Even a Diamond can be shattered...
After the owner of a security company is murdered, his sharp-edged wife goes on the run. Forced to abandon everything she holds dear - her home, her friends, her job in special ops - she builds a new life for herse...
Armed with a map the barmaid had hastily scribbled on the back of her order pad, I found Carol's bed and breakfast within fifteen minutes. Melrose was a chocolate-box cottage on a quiet lane, white with wooden beams and a thatched roof, straight out of the pages of one of those fancy magazines dentists kept in the waiting room to remind you how inadequate your life was. Even in winter, the garden looked beautiful, all manicured lawn and neatly edged flower borders. A stone cupid peeped out from between the bare branches, his arrow aimed straight at my fucking heart.
The curtains twitched, and I'd just lifted my hand up to knock when the door swung open and a tiny lady greeted me with a wide smile and curious eyes.
"Hello, dear. Elsa from The Coach and Horses said you'd be stopping by. I've opened up a room for you, and the electric blanket's already on."
Why wasn't I surprised she knew I was coming?
"Ashlyn Hale. Or just Ash, if you like. I wasn't sure you'd have a room available at such short notice."
"Oh, I'm rarely fully booked. Most people who come to Lower Foxford are visiting family or friends, so they already have somewhere to stay. I just run this place as a hobby. I get lonely on my own." With her cheerful demeanour, she'd keep smiling through Armageddon.
"I won't be great company, I'm afraid."
"Don't you worry about that, dearie. Elsa said you'd had a tiff with your boyfriend. You just need a good night's sleep and everything'll look rosier in the morning."
Yeah, right. Unless reincarnation was a thing, we were shit out of luck on that one.
"Let's hope so, eh?"
She must have sensed my hesitation. "It was a big argument, then?"
"Er..."
"You don't have to give me the details now. We can have a nice chat about it over dinner. I'm making toad-in-the-hole to start and chocolate brownies with ice cream for after. The ice cream's from my own special recipe."
"I ate a really big lunch—I'm not sure I've got room for dinner as well." Or the interrogation that would inevitably come with it.
"You need to eat." Carol reached out and patted my stomach. "Look at you—you're already fading away, and that's not good for a girl. I'll show you up to your room. You'll have time to take a bath, and I'll knock on your door when dinner's ready."
Before I could get a word in edgeways, I found myself being marched up the stairs. What was the point in trying to argue? Instinct told me Carol could outmanoeuvre even the most hardened negotiator. Next time my company had a hostage situation, they should call her in. She'd probably win the bastards over with cookies.
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The room may have been basic and a little too pink, but it represented a definite step up from my digs in London. I tested the weight of the chest of drawers. Yes, I could drag that across the door at night. Anything to keep myself inside. By the time Carol came back, I'd checked my exit routes and fitted in a quick shower with freesia-scented shampoo.
