Stefan’s voice was rougher than usual when he answered. ‘Yeah, it was a close call.’
Mason cast a sympathetic glance towards him, but didn’t make any comment. All the time Stefan kept an eye on Darren Morse who had crept closer to Cassie’s grandfather and appeared to be listening to the lively discussion he was having with his two friends.
Mason pointed to the elderly men and laughed. ‘They must be bickering about Comedy Night again.’ Seeing Stefan’s quizzical look, he explained, ‘It’s an amateur stand-up contest organised by the pub in aid of the Mountain Rescue Service. Joseph has won it for the past fifteen years.’
Sadie came over to collect their empty glasses. ‘Can I tempt you into another beer, gentlemen?’ Her husky voice implied that she would like to tempt them into something infinitely naughtier than a drink.
Stefan shook his head. ‘Not for me, thanks.’
He bought Mason another pint, and the conversation rolled over other charity events planned in aid of the Mountain Rescue Service over the Christmas period. When Stefan next glanced towards the bar and the television screen, Morse had left.
He couldn’t explain the feeling of dread suddenly tugging at the pit of his stomach. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he told Mason before walking up to Joseph Bell.
‘Where did you say Cassie was tonight?’ he asked.
Chapter Eleven
If Nadine asked her one more time if she had vacuumed the living room carpet, wiped the kitchen worktops, and washed, dried and put away the crystal flutes, and put all the leftovers in the bin, she was going to explode and say something she would definitely regret!
It was almost eleven. Her feet ached from standing, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and the cramps tightening her stomach were a sore reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything, not even one of the fancy canapés she had served all evening. The last guests had left an hour before and Nadine’s husband had retreated into his study with a cognac and a sour face.
‘I am exhausted!’ Nadine strolled barefoot into the kitchen, her bright coral-painted toenails a splash of colour on the dark granite floor tiles. A champagne glass in one hand, she dangled her black slingback shoes from the fingers of the other.
‘It was a great party, wasn’t it?’ she declared in a slightly slurred voice, ‘even though I had to do practically everything on my own.’
Cassie bit back a retort. Nadine had done nothing but flutter between her guests, nibble at the finger food, drink champagne and boss her around, which, of course, was her prerogative as the party’s hostess.
‘Isn’t Piers Hardy a dream?’ Nadine sat on a breakfast bar stool and drank a sip of champagne. ‘The man has such charm and charisma, it’s no wonder women are queuing up to fall into his arms.’
Not this woman, Cassie thought. Piers’s attentions left her cold, even if he didn’t seem to notice.
Nadine put her flute down. ‘Let’s put it this way. I wouldn’t push him away if he tried it on. John only ever thinks about work. He never looks at me, never pays me any compliments, and always looks miserable.’
Complaining about her husband was one of Nadine’s favourite pastimes, along with shopping and treatments at expensive spas, but Cassie knew she wasn’t expected to comment, so she carried on scrubbing the worktops.
‘Now, Piers is different,’ Nadine continued. ‘He noticed I’d had my hair and nails done. He told me I looked nice in my new dress, and he could hardly keep his eyes off me all evening – or his hands, for that matter.’
Cassie scrubbed harder. Nadine wasn’t the only woman Piers had pursued all evening. He had brushed against her every time he walked past, touching her arm or shoulder to ask for another drink, watching her constantly as she poured more champagne into flutes or walked to the kitchen and back to replenish the trays with nibbles.
Her breath caught in her throat as she recalled how he had blocked her way in the corridor. ‘You should dress like that more often,’ he had said, his gaze fixed on her chest, and trailing down to the white frilly pinny Nadine had insisted she wear.
Embarrassed by his hot stare, Cassie had stepped back, but he had come closer. ‘What are you doing tomorrow night? We could go out – not to the Eagle and Child, somewhere more private.’
Nadine calling her had saved her from having to reply, and she had made her escape.
‘John said that Piers’s estate management business is doing really well,’ Nadine remarked. ‘So not only is he a hunk but he’s making loads of money too. You’re lucky to be working for him.’
Not that lucky, Cassie thought. It was exhausting trying to put him off. It was only a question of time before he asked her out again, and the prospect tightened her stomach into a knot and made her want to be sick.
She opened the cupboard under the sink to store the cleaning products, peeled off her rubber gloves and stacked the sponges by the side of the huge granite sink. ‘I’ve finished now, Nadine. I’m going home.’
Nadine’s eyes were slightly unfocussed as she glanced around. ‘Already? Are you sure you tidied everything away? I don’t want to find crumbs all over the carpet or a messy loo tomorrow morning. I need to pay you, I suppose. Now, where’s my purse? I hope I have enough change.’
Cassie tightened her lips. Nadine owed her more than just a few coins since she had promised her double her cleaning rate for her waitressing that evening.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said calmly, even though the woman was starting to annoy her very much. ‘I’ll bring you an invoice next week, together with my monthly cleaning bill.’ She changed into her boots, put her coat on and slipped out before the woman could ask her to do anything else.
The drive had been full of cars when she’d arrived, so she had parked on the road a short distance away. It was never a busy road, but at this time it was dark and deserted, and so quiet sounds of her breathing and her boots crushing the frozen snow echoed in the night.
Her van’s dark shape loomed ahead, and she clicked her key fob to unlock the door. Something wasn’t right. The van stood lopsided, with the driver side much lower than the passenger side. She opened the door, grabbed the torch in the glove compartment, and shone the light on the tyres.
Both tyres on the driver’s side were flat. Great… Just great, she groaned. Now what? It wasn’t worth phoning a taxi. On Saturday night, the few taxis serving the area would be busy, and she would be home by the time it took a cab to pick her up. There was nothing else to do but to walk.
With a weary sigh, she looped her handbag around her shoulder, locked the van again and set off in the direction of Red Moss.
She had been walking for less than five minutes when the sound of an engine hummed behind her and headlights swept the road. Even though the car drove slowly, she stepped aside and left plenty of space for it to go past, but instead of overtaking, the car stopped. Nervous, she gripped the torch more tightly. The window slid down, and Darren Morse smiled at her.
Cassie’s heart sank. Of all the people who could drive by, why did it have to be him?
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you in the dark. What’s up?’
She forced a smile. ‘I’m walking home. My van has two flat tyres.’