behind the door of the bedroom on the second landing, and she looked at
Nicholas enquiringly.
'Sapper Webb,' he told her. 'Latest addition to the team. Our own
engineer. You will meet him tomorrow, and I think you will like him. He
is a fisherman.'
'What's that got to do with me liking him?'
'All the best people are fishermen.'
'Present company excluded,' she laughed. 'Are you staying at Quenton
Park?'
'Giving the house a wide berth, for the time being.' He shook his head.
'Don't want it bruited about that I amback in England. There are some
fellows from Lloyd's that I would rather not speak to at the moment. I
will be in the small bedroom on the top floor. Call if you need me.'
When she was alone she looked around the tiny chintzy room with its own
doll's house bathroom, and the double bed that took up most of the floor
area. She remembered his remark about calling if she needed him, and she
looked up at the ceiling just as she heard him drop one of his shoes on
the floor.
'Don't tempt me,' she whispered. The smell of him lingered in her
nostrils, and she remembered the feel of his lean hard body, moist with
sweat, pressed against hers as he had carried her up out of the Abbay
gorge. Hunger and eed were two words she had not thought of for many
years. They were starting to loom too large in her existence.
'Enough of that, my girl,' she chided herself, and went to run a bath.
Nicholas pounded on her door the next morning on his way downstairs.
'Come along, Royan. Life is real. Life is urgent.'
It was still pitch dark outside, and she groaned softly and asked, 'What
time is it?' But he was gone, and faintly she could hear him whistling
'The Big Rock Candy Mountain'somewhere downstairs.
She checked her watch and groaned again. 'Whistling at six-thirty, after
what he and Mummy did to the Laphroaig last night. I don't believe it.
The man is truly a monster.'
Twenty minutes later she found him in a dark blue fisherman's sweater
and jeans and a butcher's apron, working in the kitchen.
'Slice toast for three, there's a love.' He gestured towards the brown
loaf that lay beside the electric toaster.
'Omelettes coming up'in five minutes.'
She looked at the other man in the room. He was middle-aged, with wide
shoulders and sleeves rolled up high around muscular biceps, and he was
as bald as a cannonball.
'Hello,' she said, 'I am Royan Al Sirnma.'
'Sorry.' Nicholas waved the egg-whisk. 'This is Danny Daniel Webb, known
as Sapper to his friends.'
Danny stood up with a cup of coffee in his big competent-looking fist.
'Pleased to meet you, Miss Al Simma. May I pour you a cup of coffee?'
The top of his head was'freckled, and she noticed how blue his eyes
were.
'Dr Al Simma,'Nicholas corrected him.
'But please call me Royan,' she cut in quickly, 'and yes, I' love a
cup.'
