Sam found himself relieved when Cassandra left to return to the United States. Her presence around the house had disrupted any building work and he had felt Annie’s silent disapproval about his girlfriend from a distance.
Not that he had tried to stay too long in either woman’s company. Cassandra was being overly amorous in public which he felt was a bit fake and merely for the photo-journalists’ sake. And he didn’t exactly want to hang around near Annie either. He tried to comprehend what had happened to him earlier the previous afternoon in the hospital corridor.
He must be tired because he had never wanted to kiss anyone more than Annie at that moment in the corridor. He decided that it was probably down to stress. Too many emotions running high. That was it. It had absolutely nothing to do with Annie.
Thankfully that morning’s visitor would be a welcome distraction.
‘I’ve been flippin’ lost for half an hour,’ shouted Alex, as he got out of his little silver sports car.
‘How can you not remember the way?’ said Sam, going up to give his childhood friend a slap on the back. ‘You’ve been here often enough.’
‘Gimme a break,’ said Alex, smiling. ‘It’s been years. Although they’ve been kinder to your face than my beloved Willow Tree Hall.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Sam, looking up at the outside of the house which was dotted with scaffolding and holes.
‘I’d forgotten how big it is,’ said Alex. ‘All this place needs is Maggie Smith.’
‘I think you’re the only dame around here,’ Sam told him with a grin.
I can’t believe you’re even here! You! Lord of the Manor at last! Should I curtsey?’
‘Only on days ending in a y,’ drawled Sam. ‘And I’m hardly a Lord.’
Yet, he thought with a nervous gulp.
But he was glad to see his friend. It had always been the same back and forth with Alex. To the interior design world he was now Alessandro but Sam had known him when he was plain old Alex Smith at school.
The chatterbox mouth was inherited from his Spanish mother. As were his dark good looks. His lack of height and roving eye came from his father. But whereas Papa Smith preferred buxom secretaries, Alex’s tastes ran to the trim and muscular men at the gym.
Alex shook his head in disbelief. ‘What the hell are you going to do out here in the countryside? Grow a vegetable patch?’
‘Bert the gardener is way ahead of me so that’s not an option. Anyway, forget about me. I still can’t believe you’ve left the fashion industry.’
Alex grimaced. ‘I had to. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead last fashion week. I kept expecting Edward Cullen to make an appearance.’
‘Talking of models, you missed Cassandra yesterday when she popped in for a visit.’
‘Then I timed my visit extremely well,’ said Alex.
Sam smiled. Alex had made his disdain of Cassandra very clear during the past few months whenever they had spoken on the phone. There would never be enough room for two divas in the same house at one time.
They stepped into the hallway and Alex whistled in a low tone at the mess. ‘Is it a renovation or a demolition?’ he asked, shaking his head.
Sam sighed. The place had certainly deteriorated in looks since Kevin and his merry band of builders had arrived. The old plaster had been chipped away at the walls but only in certain areas so it appeared like a patchwork quilt. The grand staircase had lost its rotten banister and wobbly balustrades, which were in a pile of debris in the middle of the room.
The front doors were wide open and the whole place felt chilly and unloved.
But Sam was confident that the tide would change soon. He had even managed to persuade Kevin to make his team work on a Saturday so that he could start to see real progress being made. At an extra charge, of course.
‘Right, give me the tour,’ said Alex, his eyes flicking around and missing nothing.
They wandered through the downstairs rooms, all of which were in various stages of disrepair. As they carried on, Alex commented, ‘Good light in here.’ In addition to, ‘Great fireplace’ and ‘nice arse’ at various builders as they bent over in their work.
When they had been through the whole house, they finally headed into the kitchen which was heaving with workman all helping themselves to yet more cups of tea.
One of them was eyeing up Annie. ‘At least come out for a drink with me some time. Trust me.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘I know how to please a woman.’
Sam watched a blush spread across her cheeks as she silently collected their dirty mugs from the table.
But the builder wasn’t giving up that easily. ‘Men like me don’t grow on trees, you know.’
‘That’s because they normally swing beneath them,’ snapped Sam. ‘Right, you lot. Back to work. Go on, hop it.’
Alex raised his eyebrows at Sam’s reaction but turned his attention back to Annie.
‘Just ignore them, darling,’ he told her. ‘They are most definitely at the lower end of the food chain.’
‘So am I, according to some,’ she replied, flitting a brief glance at Sam.
Alex chuckled. ‘Alex Smith, interior decorator extraordinaire.’
Annie shook his hand. ‘Annie Rogers. Lowly housekeeper,’ she told him before leaving the kitchen.
‘Oh, I like her,’ said Alex, nodding his approval. ‘She’s got spirit. Do I detect a hint of disapproval?’
Sam sank down at the table. ‘God, yes.’
‘Well, I suppose she’s been taking care of your grandad all these months whilst you’ve been, er, away.’
Sam picked up the biscuit tin and found it empty. ‘They seem to be close.’
‘Closer than you’ve been to dear old Arthur for a long time, I imagine. What’s her story?’ asked Alex, shivering and edging his chair nearer to the ancient Aga.
‘I have no idea. She won’t tell me.’
‘To be fair, you haven’t known each other very long.’
‘I’m trying, aren’t I?’ said Sam in anguish. ‘I’m doing the place up, aren’t I?’
‘And then what?’ asked Alex.
Sam blew out a long breath. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, once they’re finished, I’ll make it lovely once more,’ said Ales, looking around. ‘You know, how it used to be.’
Sam felt gloomy. ‘Nothing is as it used to be.’
‘How’s your grandad?’
‘Angry. Upset. Proud.’ Sam sighed. ‘Old. Much older.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
Sam looked at him. ‘What do you think about the builders?’
Alex scrunched up his nose. ‘They’re a bit rural, mate. Are you sure they know what they’re doing?’
‘I don’t even know what I’m doing,’ said Sam.
‘Look, I’ll draw up a few design ideas and send them over to you,’ Alex told him. ‘What about our pretty housekeeper? Are you sure she can cope with all this whilst you keep flitting off out of the country?’
‘Of course she can.’
But even Sam heard the lie in his own voice.
He would make amends, he promised himself. He would make it all right when he returned in a fortnight’s time.
Willow Tree Hall would surely survive until then.