I’m sure you’ll gradually start to remember.’
‘I feel as if I’m on the verge of it.’ He made a little growling noise in his throat, shaking his head in exasperation. He kept hold of her hand for a minute, then shot her a quick smile, before letting go.
She turned back to Oliver. ‘Does Penelope’s house have internet access? I’ll want to take my computer.’
‘I’m pretty certain it doesn’t, so we’ll have to get it connected. Penelope wasn’t one for modern technology. Even the cooker and fridge are ancient. But she did buy a lot of books, so you won’t be short of reading material. I think reading was her main form of entertainment as she grew older. She had very eclectic tastes.’
He pulled out a notebook, muttering ‘Internet connection’ as he added it to his list. ‘Now, if you’ll get something to eat, I’ll dismantle your computer. Do you want to check it before I do that?’
‘No. It can wait till later. I’ve no doubt George has already had a good look at my files, but I doubt he’s seen the important ones. I have a double system set up, with one hidden behind a security wall. A computer expert would find it, but I doubt George has that much expertise.’
‘You’re into computers?’ he asked.
‘Into using them. And into security for my private files. I’m not good enough technically to set up a system like that myself, so I paid someone I used to work with to do it for me.’
As soon as they’d eaten, Oliver ushered them out to the car and set off. ‘I’m glad George didn’t come back. Everything will go much more smoothly if we can avoid any confrontations with your nephew.’
She didn’t share his confidence. George was still a threat, as far as she was concerned.
George wasn’t enjoying himself in Brighton. He’d only come because it’d look bad to turn down a prize from his company and he’d put it off longer than was tactful.
He took an instant dislike to the room they’d been given and insisted on paying extra for a suite. They could well afford it these days, after all. It was very economical living at his aunt’s. And now, there was the prospect of more money coming in when he took over her affairs.
He scowled as he watched his wife unpack on the Friday evening.
‘Smile, dear. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself,’ Marcia teased.
‘I’d rather be at home.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t. Anyway, we don’t actually have a home now, not even a rented one.’
‘At my aunt’s house, then, if you must be pedantic. I like living there.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Time to get a meal. Let’s see what’s on the menu here. We can go out and explore tomorrow.’
She pulled a face, but went down with him to the bar.
The following day after breakfast, she said, ‘Come on. Let’s go out and explore the centre of Brighton. I don’t really know it.’
He wandered along the Lanes with her, disgusted by the high prices being asked for the antiques and trinkets. ‘Most of this is rubbish.’
‘No, it isn’t. And no one’s forcing you to buy anything. Just let me enjoy looking. You know how good I am at spotting bargains in jewellery. We’ll go to the Pavilion next.’
‘Do we have to? I’m not into stately homes.’
‘You know I’ve always wanted to see it.’
He shrugged and went with her. He had nothing else to do, after all. But he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. The place was garish and ridiculously fussy, Indian in style outside, Chinese inside. The man who designed it must have been crazy.
At least they found a good Indian restaurant near the hotel.
The next morning they went for a drive, which was marginally more interesting to him, because they were studying the area with a view to retiring there eventually.
At lunchtime they found a country house hotel where they had a superb meal. He enjoyed fine living. One day, he’d live like this all the time.
Since Marcia never drank more than one glass of wine, he
‘I feel as if I’m on the verge of it.’ He made a little growling noise in his throat, shaking his head in exasperation. He kept hold of her hand for a minute, then shot her a quick smile, before letting go.
She turned back to Oliver. ‘Does Penelope’s house have internet access? I’ll want to take my computer.’
‘I’m pretty certain it doesn’t, so we’ll have to get it connected. Penelope wasn’t one for modern technology. Even the cooker and fridge are ancient. But she did buy a lot of books, so you won’t be short of reading material. I think reading was her main form of entertainment as she grew older. She had very eclectic tastes.’
He pulled out a notebook, muttering ‘Internet connection’ as he added it to his list. ‘Now, if you’ll get something to eat, I’ll dismantle your computer. Do you want to check it before I do that?’
‘No. It can wait till later. I’ve no doubt George has already had a good look at my files, but I doubt he’s seen the important ones. I have a double system set up, with one hidden behind a security wall. A computer expert would find it, but I doubt George has that much expertise.’
‘You’re into computers?’ he asked.
‘Into using them. And into security for my private files. I’m not good enough technically to set up a system like that myself, so I paid someone I used to work with to do it for me.’
As soon as they’d eaten, Oliver ushered them out to the car and set off. ‘I’m glad George didn’t come back. Everything will go much more smoothly if we can avoid any confrontations with your nephew.’
She didn’t share his confidence. George was still a threat, as far as she was concerned.
George wasn’t enjoying himself in Brighton. He’d only come because it’d look bad to turn down a prize from his company and he’d put it off longer than was tactful.
He took an instant dislike to the room they’d been given and insisted on paying extra for a suite. They could well afford it these days, after all. It was very economical living at his aunt’s. And now, there was the prospect of more money coming in when he took over her affairs.
He scowled as he watched his wife unpack on the Friday evening.
‘Smile, dear. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself,’ Marcia teased.
‘I’d rather be at home.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t. Anyway, we don’t actually have a home now, not even a rented one.’
‘At my aunt’s house, then, if you must be pedantic. I like living there.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Time to get a meal. Let’s see what’s on the menu here. We can go out and explore tomorrow.’
She pulled a face, but went down with him to the bar.
The following day after breakfast, she said, ‘Come on. Let’s go out and explore the centre of Brighton. I don’t really know it.’
He wandered along the Lanes with her, disgusted by the high prices being asked for the antiques and trinkets. ‘Most of this is rubbish.’
‘No, it isn’t. And no one’s forcing you to buy anything. Just let me enjoy looking. You know how good I am at spotting bargains in jewellery. We’ll go to the Pavilion next.’
‘Do we have to? I’m not into stately homes.’
‘You know I’ve always wanted to see it.’
He shrugged and went with her. He had nothing else to do, after all. But he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. The place was garish and ridiculously fussy, Indian in style outside, Chinese inside. The man who designed it must have been crazy.
At least they found a good Indian restaurant near the hotel.
The next morning they went for a drive, which was marginally more interesting to him, because they were studying the area with a view to retiring there eventually.
At lunchtime they found a country house hotel where they had a superb meal. He enjoyed fine living. One day, he’d live like this all the time.
Since Marcia never drank more than one glass of wine, he
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