Rival Attractions & Innocent Secretary(18)

Immediately Charlotte realised the real purpose of Vanessa's visit.  Smiling evenly, she said sweetly, 'You never give up, do you, Vanessa?  But I'm afraid it's too late. You see, Oliver and I have already signed a  tenancy agreement. I can't change my mind. However, I do appreciate  your concern. Not that it was necessary,' she added carelessly. 'I'm not  as gullible as you seem to think.'

She was still seething with bitterness and resentment long after she had  got rid of Vanessa. Her poisoned words had done their work well,  dripping venom into Charlotte's thoughts, making her question just what  had motivated Oliver to be so nice to her … to kiss her.

If only Vanessa had known how Charlotte really felt about accepting  Oliver as her lodger, and that it was her interference and advice that  had made it impossible for Charlotte to draw back from the agreement  with him!

That knowledge brought Charlotte a small measure of comfort as she  reflected grimly on the less pleasant aspects of Vanessa's visit. Even  knowing that Vanessa had deliberately been trying to wound her didn't  lessen her own feeling of inner disquiet.

She was already far too vulnerable to Oliver, far too aware of him. That  kiss …  But no, she had told herself she wasn't going to think about it,  to dwell on it … that she was sensibly going to put it out of her mind and  forget about it completely.

* * *

However, that was easier said than done. In the morning she was still  brooding over Vanessa's nastiness, and Sheila, watching her frown, asked  her quietly, 'Is something wrong?'

'No,' Charlotte lied automatically, and then admitted, 'Yes … there is.  Vanessa called round yesterday and had another go at trying to persuade  me not to take on Oliver as a lodger.' She pulled a face. 'Oh, she  pretended it was concern for me that prompted her visit. She was full of  "Adam says" and "Adam agrees with me". She went on and on about the  danger of people gossiping. You can imagine the sort of thing.'                       
       
           



       

'Yes, I can,' Sheila agreed, and then said disparagingly, 'That woman is such a bitch. She's jealous of you, of course.'

Charlotte stared at her. 'Vanessa, jealous of me? Oh, come on. She  despises me. And, let's be honest, what do I have that she could  possibly envy? Her own sex may realise what she's really like, but men  are always taken in by that sugary appearance.' Charlotte made another  face. 'She's attractive, she's got a wonderful husband, two healthy  children, a lovely home.'

'Yes, and we all know which of those is the most important to her,'  Sheila said shrewdly. 'Vanessa is an avaricious woman. Wealth, social  position, possessions-those are what matter to her. Those and having her  vanity constantly stroked by some admiring male. But she's not getting  any younger, and women like her have only one asset to use as a  trade-off for what they want from life. I dare say Adam is devoted to  her, but without him she'd have nothing. She's like a bloodsucker  sinking her claws into a man stupid enough to love her and wealthy  enough to provide her with all the things she wants, but if she ever  loses that man …  That's why she envies you, Charlotte-because you're not  vulnerable the way she is. You're independent, you have your own career,  your own home.'

'But I'm alone,' Charlotte said fiercely, not realising what she was giving away. 'Vanessa has a husband … children.'

'Whom she'd dump in a second if a wealthier man than Adam ever came  along and offered her marriage and access to his bank account. She  resents you and tries to put you down because inwardly she knows you're  worth ten of her. And as for people gossiping about you and  Oliver-that's a ludicrous suggestion.'

'Yes, I know,' Charlotte agreed a little hollowly. 'I don't know why I let her get to me really.'

The phone rang and Sheila picked it up.

While she was speaking, Charlotte busied herself with her own work. Once  she had replaced the receiver, Sheila came over to her desk and  announced, 'That was old Mrs Birtles. You know-she owns Hadley Court.'

'Yes, of course. It's a beautiful place.'

'Mmm. Well, it seems she's thinking of putting it up for sale. She  wondered if you'd care to go round and see her. Oh, and by the way, she  said to tell you that she'd approached Mr Tennant as well, and that in  fairness to both of you she thought she ought to see you both at the  same time. This afternoon at two o'clock, to be precise. Perhaps she'll  invite you to challenge one another to a duel,' Sheila suggested,  grinning at Charlotte's expression. 'She is supposed to be rather  eccentric.'

'Thanks very much. Did she give you directions? I've a vague idea where it is.'

'She did and here they are,' Sheila told her, giving her a piece of paper.

'Mm. Should be easy enough to find,' Charlotte agreed, reading through  them. 'Two o'clock. Let's just hope the Volvo doesn't let me down  again.'

'Have you made any decision on a new car yet?' Sheila asked her.

'Mm, I think so-only it isn't one car, it's two. I've decided that  there's no point in being unduly pessimistic about the effect Oliver  Tennant is going to have on our business, and so as well as buying a new  car for myself I've bought one for the office as well. You and Sophy  will be able to use it.'

She laughed when she saw Sheila's face and added warningly, 'You'll have  to come to some arrangement between you about who has the use of it out  of business hours.' She rummaged in her open briefcase and extracted  some papers. 'Here are the colour charts. I'm opting for the dark grey.'

'Oh, look at that red!' Sheila enthused, avidly studying the brochures Charlotte had given her until the telephone rang again.

When she replaced the receiver she was frowning. 'That was Dan Pearce  from Rush Farm. He wanted to know if anyone has shown any interest in  those semis yet.'

Charlotte frowned too. 'He told me he was going to instruct Oliver-perhaps he's changed his mind.'

'Or perhaps Oliver told him the same thing you did-that he'd never get  the kind of money he's looking for unless he applies for planning  consent and sells them both together. He sounded very surly.'

'He is very surly. He hasn't lived here long himself, has he? He inherited that farm, didn't he?'

'Yes, he lives there on his own. His wife left him shortly after they  moved in. There was a bit of a scandal about it at the time. Some  suggestion that he had been violent with her.' Sheila was looking  concerned. 'Look, do you think you ought to see him on your own?'                       
       
           



       

'Oh, Sheila, for heaven's sake!' Charlotte said impatiently. 'I admit  that the man isn't very pleasant but, really, you're letting your  imagination run away with you. Have you got his number? I'll give him a  ring and arrange to go out there and see him again. After all,' she  added grimly, 'we can't afford to turn our backs on potential business,  can we?'

Charlotte had a busy morning. Bill and Anne Markham, after going round  three of the previous day's properties a second time, announced, as she  had hoped they would, that they wanted to make an offer for Cherry Tree  Cottage.

Having assured them that she would put their offer to the owner and get  back to them as quickly as she could, Charlotte ate a quick sandwich  lunch in her car, washed down by a cup of coffee from her thermos,  before checking that her hair was neat, and reapplying her lipstick  before heading for her two o'clock appointment at Hadley Court.

She was less than half a mile away from the house, and nicely on time,  when disaster struck. There was a short queue of traffic on the minor  road, waiting to pull out at a junction. She was stuck behind four other  cars, and, while she sat waiting for her turn to filter into the  mainstream of traffic, the Volvo's engine suddenly died on her.

No amount of frantic turning of the ignition key would restart the  motor, and finally, flustered and bad-tempered, she climbed out of the  car and, with the help of a fellow motorist, pushed the Volvo safely to  the side of the road.

It was now ten past two. Damn! Damn! she swore furiously. She just could  not afford to lose the kind of business Hadley Court represented.  Looking down grimly at her almost new court shoes, she acknowledged  there was only one thing for it.

It was a pleasant spring afternoon, but she was in no mood to appreciate  the warmth of the sunshine or the beauty of her surroundings when she  finally reached the gates to Hadley Court.

Ahead of her, parked on the gravel forecourt, was Oliver's Jaguar, and  gritting her teeth, she set off to walk down the drive, wincing as her  shoes continually filled with the small chippings and had to be emptied.

When she finally reached the imposing front door it was half-past two. A  light breeze had tousled her hair, and whipped colour into her cheeks,  she felt untidy and hot, and not at all in the right frame of mind to  present the kind of professional appearance she wanted to present.