Seduction Never Lies by Sara Craven

think of anything to say that wouldn’t make her sound needy.
    Yet wasn’t talking over problems what people in love were supposed to do? Especially when they might affect the future. Their future, which now seemed to be a major part of the general uncertainty.
    And there were other aspects of the immediate future to trouble her too, with the village grapevine humming with news.
    Ted Jackson and his crew had started work on the Ladysmere grounds, as June Jackson importantly informed everyone.
    ‘Even that old greenhouse place at the back is being rebuilt, and special lighting installed,’ she’d announced in the Post Office, pursing her lips before adding with heavy significance, ‘No need to ask what for.’
    Tavy was halfway home before she realised that Mrs Jackson was hinting it would be used to produce cannabis, and wondered if that was what Jago had meant by ‘other ideas’.
    Wait till Mrs Wilding hears that, she thought groaning inwardly. She’ll be on the phone to the Drugs Squad in minutes.
    Jago Marsh himself had not been seen in the village all week, but the constant gossip about his plans for Ladysmere possibly explained why, when she did sleep, Tavy’s fleeting, disturbing dreams so often seemed to feature a dark-haired, tawny-eyed man.
    Proving, she thought bitterly, that ‘out of sight’ did not necessarily mean ‘out of mind’.
    It made her head spin to realise that only a month ago, she’d been scarcely aware of his existence, her life set in a peaceful, secure groove, untouched by any hint of sex, drugs or rock ’n’ roll.
    Now, she was being forced to acknowledge how swiftly and irrevocably things could change.
    But perhaps, she thought, her throat tightening, I’ll be the one to leave instead. Find a new life with different challenges.
    Or perhaps Patrick would take her in his arms and tell her, ‘You’re going nowhere. You’re staying here with me.’
    And wished she found that more of a comfort.
    She was thankful, however, when Saturday arrived, with the prospect of half a day’s relief from the increasingly heavy atmosphere of the school.
    As she cycled to work, it occurred to her that when she’d gone to university, her ultimate plan had been to become a teacher. But that, of course, was before Fate had sent her schemes crashing round her.
    But it was something she might well reconsider now circumstances had changed.
    When she sat down at her desk, she was surprised to see there was no pile of correspondence with attendant Post-it instructions waiting beside the computer.
    The door to Mrs Wilding’s office was closed, but Tavy could hear the faint murmur of her voice, interspersed with silences, indicating that she was on the telephone.
    In which case, Tavy decided, maybe I’ll pop to the staff room. Ask a few pertinent questions about getting back into higher education.
    She was on her way down the corridor when she heard a door open behind her and Mrs Wilding saying, ‘Octavia—a word, please.’ Her tone showed that the big chill was still on, and Tavy bit her lip as she turned back.
    In her office, Mrs Wilding motioned Tavy to a chair. ‘I won’t beat about the bush,’ she said. ‘I have to tell you that I no longer find our arrangement satisfactory.’
    ‘Arrangement,’ Tavy repeated, bewildered.
    ‘Your employment here as my assistant.’ The other woman spoke impatiently. ‘I have therefore decided to terminate it.’
    Tavy stared at her across the wide expanse of polished desk. She said slowly, ‘You mean—you’re firing me? But why?’
    ‘Because the nature of the job will be changing.’ Mrs Wilding examined her manicured nails. ‘The school will be expanding and I require someone who shares my vision and can work closely beside me—even represent me on occasion.’
    Expanding? Tavy felt her jaw dropping. Only a matter of days ago, Mrs Wilding had been prophesying doom and ruin.
    With an effort, she kept her voice steady. ‘And I don’t