Despite the tension of having a self-appointed conscience spying on her every move, Tatiana enjoyed talking to Jason. She particularly enjoyed watching his shyness gradually fall away as they spent more time together in the dining room where Tati had eaten countless meals in the first twenty years of her life. Jason was clearly lonely, a state of mind Tati understood only too well. When he spoke about his mother and sister being away in France, it was clear that he missed them, even though their return would also mean the unwelcome return of his father and an end to his moonlighting as a pianist, at least for now.
Tati let him talk for a good hour before excusing herself to go to the loo. Mrs Worsley finally seemed to have made herself scarce, and Tati was able quickly and quietly to slip up the kitchen stairs to the first floor. Brett had turned the old servants’ rooms into a set of adjoining offices. It was as good a place to start as any. Darting inside, Tati pulled open a filing cabinet at random and began riffling through papers. She didn’t know what she was looking for specifically. Just anything that might help Raymond Baines to strengthen her claim on the estate. It didn’t help that her heart was pounding against her ribs like a jackhammer and her palms were so sweaty she could barely separate one document from the next. I’d make a useless cat burglar, she thought, glancing anxiously at her watch. She couldn’t be too long or that old dragon Worsley would smell a rat and come looking for her.
But it was no use. There was nothing here except old tax returns, at least six years’ worth, together with carefully photocopied receipts and correspondence with the Australian tax office. Replacing the last of the documents, Tati was just about to close the drawer when she froze.
Footsteps.
They were faint at first. Tati hovered and listened, hoping to hear them recede. But instead they came closer. Was it Mrs Worsley, snooping around looking for her? No. The tread was a man’s, heavy and purposeful. It must be Jason.
Glancing round the room, she searched in vain for somewhere to hide. The office was little more than an eight-foot-square box. It didn’t even have curtains. There was a desk she could crawl under, but anyone who stepped more than a couple of feet into the room would see her there, crouching like a naughty child. She was still standing helplessly, like a deer in the headlights, when the footsteps stopped outside the door. The handle began to turn. Tati felt her stomach slide into her shoes. What excuse could she possibly give Jason? She could hardly say she was lost, in her own house. That she wandered into the office by mistake. Oh God.
Mrs Worsley’s voice rang out like a siren.
‘Mr Cranley! My goodness, whatever are you doing here? When I heard noises I thought it was an intruder.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Brett’s growling, Australian baritone rumbled through the door. Tati would not have been surprised to see her heart leap out of her chest and start jumping up and down on the desk. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I had to come home on business for a few days. It was a last-minute thing or I would have called.’
‘No need to apologize to me,’ said the housekeeper. ‘It’s your house. But do let me make you something to eat and unpack your things. Jason’s downstairs. With a … visitor.’
Tati waited for Mrs Worsley to elaborate, or for Brett to quiz her, but neither of them did. Instead, miraculously, Brett let go of the door handle and agreed to go down to join his son. Tati waited until she heard both sets of footsteps disappear down the kitchen stairs. Then she slammed closed the filing cabinet, bolted out into the corridor and ran as fast as she could to the front of the house, flying down the main staircase and into the loo off the entrance hall. Sixty seconds later, having washed her hands and face and regained her composure, she walked as casually as she could back into the dining room.
Brett and Jason were both standing, glaring at one another. As soon as Tati walked in, it was clear what their confrontation had been about.
‘Speak of the devil,’ said Brett, without humour. ‘Thought you’d sniff around the place did you, while I was gone?’
‘Exactly,’ Tati replied mockingly. ‘It was all part of some dastardly plan.’
‘Dad, please,’ Jason blushed. ‘Tatiana was just—’
‘I know what she was just doing,’ said Brett. ‘And now she’s just leaving. Aren’t you?’
Tati turned to Jason, bestowing him with her warmest smile. ‘Thank you for a lovely lunch. We must do it again some time.’
‘You stay away from my son!’ thundered Brett as she walked away.
‘Or what?’ Tati called defiantly over her shoulder as she left the room. ‘You’ll put me over your knee?’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ growled Brett, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Tati met his gaze for a split second, then turned and hurried away.
That had been far too close for comfort.