On the flight to Nice, Tasha found herself squashed between an overweight middle-aged Frenchman who appeared to have been gargling with garlic, and an underweight younger one who reeked of stale cigarettes, fell asleep on her shoulder and snored like a backfiring moped.
As far as fantasy Frenchmen sandwiches went, this one was singularly lacking in glamour.
OK, reasons to stop thinking about the man from the café.
For a start, she hadn’t even found out his name. Mad as it now seemed, she’d kind of hoped he’d volunteer this information so she wouldn’t need to ask him. But he hadn’t, so that was that.
He hadn’t asked her name either.
He had a nagging, high-maintenance girlfriend. Well, not absolutely definitely, but from the gist of what she’d overheard on the phone, it was certainly on the cards that she was.
For heaven’s sake, how could she be obsessing over someone she’d only known for ten minutes? She knew nothing whatsoever about him. He could have a million irritating habits she hadn’t had time to experience during their brief encounter.
Tasha exhaled. She was never going to see him again anyway, which was kind of the main overriding reason. She didn’t know who he was, and in return he knew nothing about her.
Never mind that he’d seemed really nice and hadn’t had freakishly hairy ears. They’d shared a spark of attraction, that was all. He’d had the opportunity to ask for her phone number and hadn’t taken it.
His loss.
Dammit.
Chapter 4
Well, this was awkward.
The last of the mourners had left, and Flo was in the kitchen with her high heels kicked off, doing the washing-up. In the living room, the executor of Elsa’s will had just broken the bad news to Elsa’s grandchildren, and from the sound of things, they weren’t taking it too well.
‘What?’ Lena’s voice through the closed doors was shrill with disbelief. ‘Oh please, tell me this is some kind of joke!’
Flo rinsed a long-stemmed glass and placed it on the rack to drain. Hell hath no fury, it seemed, like a woman not being given an airy first-floor flat in the upmarket area of Clifton, in Bristol.
Not yet, at least.
‘But that’s not FAIR,’ Lena bellowed. ‘She can’t DO that.’
Flo exchanged a look with Jeremy, who was stretched out in his usual spot in front of the radiator. ‘Oh dear, brace yourself. Sounds like someone isn’t too happy with you.’
Jeremy blinked and lazily swished his tail back and forth. He was the laid-back type who took pretty much everything in his stride.
The kitchen door burst open and Lena Travis appeared, tall and angular in her tailored black suit and resembling a furious preying mantis.
‘So you’ve known about this all along.’ Her ice-blue eyes narrowed in disdain. ‘It was probably your idea in the first place. My God, people like you make me want to be sick.’
Flo dried her hands and said, ‘It wasn’t my idea.’
Luckily she was used to being shouted at by people who thought they knew better than she did, so Lena’s outburst didn’t scare her.
Well, not much.
‘You’d better come through.’ Lena gestured to the living room. ‘And just so you know, I’m going to be fighting this all the way.’
In the high-ceilinged living room, Elsa’s friend Mary was helping herself to more coffee from the silver pot on the sideboard. Elegant and precise, she was in her late sixties and had known Elsa for over thirty years. Standing beside the sash window overlooking Caledonia Place was Elsa’s grandson Zander, two years younger than his sister but eerily similar in looks. With their dark hair, pronounced cheekbones, narrow blue eyes and striking dark brows, they had the air of a couple of vampires about them. Since they lived just across the square, it seemed weird that Flo had never met them in person before, but their paths simply hadn’t crossed.
At least the brother seemed calmer and less overwrought, although you couldn’t say he was looking exactly thrilled.
‘Right,’ said Mary, who had been Elsa’s solicitor and was sole executor of her will. ‘Let me just stress here that Elsa made her own decisions about this property. In no way was she coerced or persuaded by anyone. Flo, how long ago did you first meet Elsa?’
‘It was two years ago. Just over two years,’ said Flo. ‘In the October.’
‘And Elsa told me five years ago that this was what she wanted to happen. Her mind was made up, even then.’
‘But she’s only known my grandmother for two years! And now she’s got this place! How can that be fair?’
‘Sshh.’ Zander shook his head irritably. ‘Stop screeching.’