around her and tucked the end between her breasts.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said, his voice struggling through a throat stuffed with hot rocks.
Andie fought against the urge to grab him, keep him with her. Working in such a male environment, she’d had to put on the anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better façade. The slightest sign of weakness would have been ruthlessly exploited.
That didn’t matter here and she didn’t take her eyes off Cleve until he disappeared into the bathroom, backing as far away from the door as physically possible.
He left a few moments later with the spider caught in a towel and, released from her terror, she scrambled into the first clothes that came to hand: a pair of cropped trousers and a vest top.
She combed through her hair, tied it back with a hairband and went to the kitchen. The kitchen was old-fashioned, with a dresser that would have to be stripped down, the china washed, and a large wooden table that they’d sat around for supper.
A search of the cupboard under the sink revealed an inch of liquid soap in a plastic container and she filled a bowl with hot water. By the time Cleve returned she’d stripped one shelf of china and piled it in and was giving the draining board and plate rack a thorough going-over.
‘Can I help?’
‘You already have.’ Deeply embarrassed by the exhibition she’d made of herself, she cleared her throat. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’
‘Any time.’ He picked up the kettle and leaned in close to fill it at the tap. She was still shaky and the brief touch of his shoulder made her feel safe all over again. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked, moving away to put the kettle on the hotplate. ‘Miranda?’
‘I’ve tried the talking cure. It didn’t help.’
‘Talk to me.’
She glanced up. He’d turned his back on the stove and was looking at her so intently that she forgot what she was going to say. The only thing in her mind was how it had felt to be held, trembling, in his arms. The beat of his pulse against her ear, his hands spread across her naked back, keeping her safe.
‘It can’t hurt.’ He moved away from the stove, was one step, two steps closer and all she could see was his mouth... ‘I don’t want to scare you but this house has been empty for a while. That spider is not going to be the only creature crawling out of the cracks in the walls.’
‘The lizards don’t bother me.’ She forced herself to look away, look up at the little gecko sitting high on the wall near the ceiling. ‘They eat mosquitoes and flies.’
‘So do spiders.’
‘They also have a million legs and eyes.’
‘A million?’
She heard the teasing note in his voice, knew that a tiny crease would have appeared at the corner of his mouth and, unable to help herself, she responded with a smile.
‘Okay, eight,’ she said as, suddenly self-conscious, she began rubbing at a stubborn spot of dirt, ‘which is at least four too many and when they move it looks like a lot more. Plus they’re hairy. And they have fangs.’
‘That’s all you’ve got?’
Still teasing.
How long had it been? Not since a party in the mess, when one of the engineers had had a crush on her and she’d had to hide in the ladies’. Rachel hadn’t been there that night and Cleve had smuggled her out the back way.
Unable to help herself, she gave him a sideways look. His face was thinner, the crease deeper than she remembered.
‘In my head I can rationalise it. I know that they’re more frightened of me than I am of them. But then I see one and all that goes out of the window.’
He leaned back against the drainer and folded his arms. She’d seen him do that a dozen or more times when someone was rambling on, full of excuses. He never said anything, just waited until it all came out.
‘When I was eight a boy at school put a huge spider down my back. I could feel it wriggling inside my blouse and I was hysterical, tearing at my clothes, screaming.’ Even now, thinking about it made her skin goose. ‘There were buttons flying everywhere and he and his beastly little gang were laughing so much that they were rolling on the floor when one of the teachers came running out to find out what was happening.’ She swallowed. ‘It wasn’t even a real spider but one of those horrible rubber things you can get from a joke shop.’
‘Why did he pick on you?’
‘Apparently his father had called him a fool for letting a girl beat him in a maths test.’
‘What a pity you can’t suspend parents for bad behaviour.’
She shook her head. ‘The poor kid was to be pitied but it doesn’t alter the fact that every time I see a spider I’m eight years old again and I can feel all those legs wriggling against my skin.’
‘That’s classic PTSD.’
‘Not the kind anyone takes seriously.’ She rinsed the cloth under the tap. ‘I’ve learned to deal calmly with the occasional spider in the bath and believe me I checked before I got into the tub. I was washing my hair and I’d closed my eyes when I rinsed off the shampoo. When I opened them it was right there on the wall, thirty centimetres from my face.’
‘It would have given anyone a bad moment.’ He turned away, looked at a damp patch in the corner of the ceiling. ‘I hate to say this but, looking at the state of this place, I’m afraid you’re likely to meet a few of that chap’s relations if you stay here. Why don’t you move into a hotel?’
‘I’m not here for a holiday...’ Before he could ask why she was here, she said, ‘Probate is moving at the speed of a glacier, Posy is tied up until later this summer and meantime this place is going to rack and ruin.’
He frowned. ‘Should you be here if the estate isn’t settled? Where did you get the key?’
‘Sofia gave a set to Grandma the last time she was here. She must have known she was dying.’
‘Posy’s godmother? Why was she living here?’
‘Sofia Romana? I don’t suppose you’ve heard of her but she was one of the early supermodels. There’s a photograph of her in the hall. She knew everyone, mixed in high society and when she had an affair with King Ludano, he set her up in this villa.’
‘An interesting choice as godmother.’
‘She and my grandmother were best friends. They started kindergarten on the same day. Mum and Dad were totally tied up trying to keep Marlowe Aviation afloat after Granddad died so suddenly and Grandma used to bring us here for the holidays. It was enormous fun. Film stars used to come to her parties.’
‘What happened?’
‘We grew up and life got serious.’ She looked up, gazed out of the window. ‘We sent cards for Sofia’s birthday and Christmas. Little gifts, but I wish...’ She shook her head. ‘Have you had breakfast?’
‘No, but your kindly neighbour brought you cornetti as a peace offering.’ He tore open the bag that he’d retrieved on his way back inside, releasing the scent of the warm, cream-filled pastries. ‘I hope you’re going to share.’
Her stomach gave a warning lurch and she looked quickly away. Not now... Please, not now...
‘Help yourself.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ She plunged her hands back into the water, produced a plate and put it on the rack. The soap had a faint lemony scent and she concentrated hard on that. Cleve picked up a cloth and reached for the plate. ‘It’s more hygienic to let them drain,’ she said.
‘Is it? What can I do to help?’