‘It’s a fact of life. Beezer wanted out. So he did it.’

Belle didn’t know what else to say. She kept silent all through the drive home and Harlan didn’t seem inclined to make conversation either. When he pulled up in the lane outside the gatehouse, she unsnapped her seat belt and reached for the door handle, lifting it. But she couldn’t open the door.

‘Handy that, isn’t it. Central locking,’ said Harlan.

Belle glared at him. Shit. This was why he’d stopped in the lane and not pulled onto the drive. There was a large privet hedge shielding them from the gatehouse. Very few cars passed by in the lane. No one could see them.

‘Open the damned door, Harlan,’ said Belle tiredly.

He was smiling.

‘You’re such an arsehole,’ she said, crossing her arms in fury.

‘Just trying to comfort you, Belle,’ he said smoothly, leaning in. ‘I know how fond you were of Beezer. It’s a terrible shock, losing him like we did.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Belle, turning her head away. Harlan’s hand landed on her thigh and she was so glad to have thick tights on. If he’d actually touched her skin, she might have screamed.

‘Oh come on, Belle,’ he was saying. ‘Now kiss me. You know you want to.’

‘I don’t want to,’ said Belle, wishing she’d never got into the car with him. She was sick of him, always trying to feel her up. Sick of the way his eyes were always crawling over her.

Harlan’s face loomed in close to hers. It was tragic that he was such a total turn-off, because he had regular grey eyes, a straight nose, thick light brown hair. He dressed well. But . . . Harlan Stone exuded some sort of toxic poison from his pores, it always seemed to her. She always felt that he had to work hard at projecting the right emotion at the right time, because in reality he felt nothing. Well, maybe not totally nothing. Now, she was pretty sure he felt genuine lust. She’d had a lot of years putting up with this, him always trying to corner her, trying to paw at her, when it was the last thing she wanted.

Angry, she drew back her hand and slapped his face, hard.

‘I said, open the fucking door, you creep!’ she burst out.

Harlan drew back. His cheek, where she had slapped him, was turning pink. His eyes, still staring into hers, were icy cold. His hand raised slowly and he rubbed his cheek.

‘You’ll be sorry you did that,’ he said. ‘That’s a promise.’

Then he reached back and there was a loud click.

‘Fuck you,’ said Belle. She opened the door, stumbled out, and nearly ran into the gatehouse, her heart beating hard.

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