Circles of Fate by Anne Saunders Page A

that, so she put it into words he would understand.
    â€œI was left a piece of property. I came out to inspect it before deciding whether to hang on to it, with a view to turning it into a commercial enterprise, or sell.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI have decided to sell.”
    â€œIt didn’t live up to expectations, commercially?”
    â€œOn the contrary. It exceeded them.”
    â€œI don’t see –?”
    â€œSomebody else had a prior claim,” she said.
    He looked frankly puzzled. “But I thought you said the property was yours?”
    â€œIt is, but –”
    â€œAnita hasn’t a tidy business mind,” cut in Edward. “She means an emotional claim.”
    â€œReally!” Up went the sandy eyebrows. “Do you? Let me tell you my golden rule for success. Never mix sentiment with business.”
    â€œA man after my own heart,” applauded Edward. But not after mine, thought Anita. Pilar did have a prior claim, emotional, sentimental, call it what you like. She’d lived in that house for more than thirty years and nothing, neither rising property prices, not your incredulity, Mr Claude Perryman, will make me turf her out. And something else, now I know why Monica was leaving you, and if I’d been in her shoes I would have contemplated doing exactly the same.
    Everybody seemed to be looking at her and for a moment she thought she had blurted her thoughts out aloud. Until she realized it was her fierce frown that was attracting attention.
    â€œI was wondering –” Massive gulp. She would have to say something to account for her ferocious look. Oh, inspiration! Where are you?
    â€œIs this –” Her fork poked at the meat on her plate, her eyes took on a look of pleading – “octopus?”
    Edward paled and stopped chewing. Cathy blinked and hastily set down her own knife and fork. Claude threw back his head and roared with laughter.
    â€œMy dear, delightful child. What a refreshing person you are!”
    â€œWell, is it?”
    Yes, is it? asked Cathy’s and Edward’s eyes, although Cathy’s mouth looked less grim and was a mere twitch away from a smile.
    â€œActually – I won’t tease you – no.”
    â€œOh, good! Not that it isn’t delicious, but then I’ve heard that so is octopus.”
    â€œSo it is.”
    â€œIt’s the thought, isn’t it?”
    â€œA bad thought,” said Claude, “if it stops one tasting something new. My adventurous spirit demands new tastes, new experiences.”
    Anita wriggled uncomfortably. He wasn’t looking at her in the way a newly bereaved man looks at a woman. A quick glance at Edward and Cathy told her that they saw nothing amiss. She hoped she wasn’t turning into one of those horribly vain creatures who imagines that every man she meets must fall a little in love with her.
    She wondered when he would ask her about Monica. Perhaps he was waiting for her? No, she decided, he was waiting for a suitable moment to broach an extremely delicate subject. Delicate, or sheer distasteful?
    He was a man in enforced mourning, a man who liked only nice new experiences and would be careful to avert his gaze from the less pleasant aspects of life.
    But over coffee his expression grew so pensive that Anita wondered whether she had misjudged him.
    â€œCathy,” he said, “take Edward over to the record-player and select some music. Something soothing, please.”
    â€œOf course, Mr Perryman.” Being an employee, Cathy did not use the too familiar Claude.
    Edward threw Anita a quick, reassuring look, and followed Cathy. It was getting to be a habit, thought Anita with a surge of affection, following Cathy.
    When she looked back at Claude, she saw that the cold, hard man of her earlier surmise had gone. In his place was a humbler individual with a mouth twisted in boyish anguish. He even blinked his sparse, sandy lashes once