With the door safely closed behind her, she thought she could now have that postponed cup of tea. She put the kettle on, and then made a quick check of where Nick had poked around. She didn’t suspect that he would have taken anything, of course – but it was just as well to check. And, in the living room, she saw that he had left the window wide open. He should have left it as he found it – shut tight.
A few minutes later, as she sat in her courtyard nursing a cup of tea, she thought back over the events of the morning.
Marjorie had asked her to meet and greet the enemy. She had aided the developer of Parakeet Bay with his ambition by somehow letting him examine every nook and cranny of her home. It was as though someone had decided that Larissa Kidd would have absolutely no control over her day.
What a morning. She scowled, and sipped more tea. Surely the day could only improve. What else could go wrong?
Chapter Two
Larissa realised she had been reading the same page of the book in her hand for the past five minutes. With a huff of discontent she tossed it aside, and sprang up out of the chair.
She felt restless. That was understandable, she thought – considering she had been cooped up in her cottage all day. It was now mid-evening, the sky was changing from light to dark and the air was warm and still. The heat of the summer day had passed – a perfect evening for a slow and leisurely stroll along the length of Thomson Bay.
But first, she should have some dinner. She didn’t feel like cooking for herself tonight, and on an impulse decided to eat at one of the island’s restaurants. She put on a black dress and a pink cardigan and slipped into some sandals. Her small gold watch and diamond studded earrings complemented her honey blond hair. She let herself out of the cottage, locking the door behind her.
As she walked along the road which led into the main area of Thomson Bay she resolved to have a pleasant evening. This morning she had stalked around her cottage after Nick had left, her mood gradually becoming blacker and grimmer. She had chastised herself for letting him weasel his way into her home – in retrospect, she was convinced she’d been a pushover. She should have shown some fibre, and flatly refused permission for him to go inside. Especially after learning what he was visiting Rottnest for. How could she? Why hadn’t she stuck to her principles? She felt rather disillusioned with herself.
It had, she reflected, been like having an intruder in her home – albeit a polite and elegantly-dressed intruder. She tossed her blond hair angrily out of her eyes as she remembered how they had nearly bumped into each other in her bedroom. Didn’t he have any notion of respect for other people’s privacy?
An hour after he had left, her phone had rung.
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