And now look. Desperate to set off before the weather deteriorated, she'd packed in such a hurry she'd probably forgotten half of what she needed, and she'd been driving for two hours through conditions that only got worse by the minute. She wasn't sure her ageing car could take much more. The wipers were clogged with the thick snowflakes that swirled across the windscreen, reducing visibility to virtually nothing. She had no idea what she would do if something came in the opposite direction — although she was so far out in the middle of nowhere she doubted there was another soul around. That is, apart from Jack Blane — her new boss for the next few weeks — who in his wisdom had chosen to write his latest novel miles from civilisation on the bleak Yorkshire moors in the worst winter weather for years. Abby had heard writers liked solitude, but this was ridiculous!
Just as she was beginning to think this whole thing must be a bad dream, her satnav archly informed her she was nearly there. Abby slowed her car to a crawl, peering over the steering wheel like an old lady who'd forgotten her glasses.
"Nearly where?" she asked the machine's know-it-all voice.
A dark shape loomed at the side of the road, and she screeched to a halt. Not a bright move. The car skidded nearly full circle, and Abby had to fight both the wheel and her own panic to regain control. Her heart thudding, she opened the driver's window and stuck her head out. A house of forbidding dark stone, dusted liberally with snow, stood silhouetted against the grey sky. Abby glared at her satnav and back at the house. Well, this must be it. There was certainly nowhere else in sight.
"Great. Out of the frying pan and straight onto the set of Wuthering Heights," she muttered.
Squinting through the dark, she could see that Mr Blane had tried to clear a parking spot for her — considerate of him, since Casey had given her the impression he was getting on in years.
Abby manoeuvred her car into the space next to an old SUV, then allowed her head to fall back against the headrest. Bone-tired from the drive and the stress, she closed her eyes for a minute, and when she opened them again to glance at the clock, she could hardly believe it was only eight-thirty. She was so tired, it felt more like midnight.
Pushing away the doubts which had been gnawing at her ever since she'd accepted Casey's hare-brained offer, Abby grabbed the car door handle and took a deep breath. It was no use regretting it now — she had accepted the job offer and she would have to make the best of it.
"Anyway, I had good reasons!" she reminded herself as she shoved the car door. "Like a living wage and food."
The snow banked so high at the sides of the small clearing beside the house she could only get her door halfway open. How she was going to reverse back out again and drive to the accommodation her new employer had arranged for her, she had no idea. Frowning, she realised she hadn't passed anywhere obvious on the way — then again, she hadn't been able to see much through the blizzard. She would have to introduce herself as briefly as possible, find out where she needed to go, and be on her way.
Abby pulled her hat down lower and her scarf tighter. As she hurried for the door, she hit a smooth patch and her feet went flying, landing her flat on her back with a resounding thump. She would have stayed where she was for a while to get her breath back, but the icy cold was seeping rapidly through her coat, so she got clumsily to her feet.
The steps to the door were steep but appeared to have been gritted, thank goodness. Wondering how an old man had negotiated them to clear her a parking space without killing himself, she clutched tightly to the iron railing as she made her way up and rapped sharply on the door. No answer. Fighting an insane desire to turn on her heel and give up on the whole thing, she huddled under the tiny porch roof, waited a moment and knocked again. Perhaps he was a little deaf. If he didn't hear her soon, she might be able to add pneumonia to her bruises!
Footsteps sounded from inside, a jiggling of keys, and finally the door wrenched open. A shaft of light lit the doorway, outlining a tall frame there.
Blinking against the sudden light, Abby held out her gloved hand.
"Mr Blane, I presume?" She tried for the most professional manner she could manage. It wasn't as successful as she would have liked due to the snowflakes catching in her mouth and her teeth chattering.
When she gave an involuntary shiver, a hand shot out to quickly shake hers in response.
"Yes. You must be Miss Davis. For goodness' sake, come on in out of the cold. This is no time to be standing on ceremony." He stood aside for her to clump over the doorstep, showering snow as she came. "I've been caught up in my work. I had no idea the weather had got
