Angeline was so busy job and home hunting that the
idea almost left her mind, but not completely. It came to
the forefront again when she caught sight of Sebastian
Tremaine on the front page of the local paper, The
Bridgeford News, one evening as she purchased a copy at
the local shop to look out for the latest jobs.
There, standing proudly, holding up a large prize fish
with a big grin on his face was the man responsible for
turfing her out of her home. She’d never seen him before,
but could make out how handsome he was even though
the picture was slightly blurred and in black and white.
The headline read:
Business man, Sebastian Tremaine, Takes over
Tarrington Manor House.
Angeline gasped in astonishment as she read the
article which made it sound as if Mr Tremaine would be
an asset to the local community. Fiddlesticks, he was no
more an asset than one of those large out-of-town
hyperstores was to Bridgeford’s retail community. He’d
probably turn the Manor into some sort of a holiday park,
encouraging bus loads of undesirables to flood the village.
What poppycock!
She knew immediately upon reading the article, she
wasn’t going to like the man. Wasn’t going to, never
would. She clenched her fists at her side, feeling as
though she were about to explode into tiny pieces all over
the shop floor.
Count to ten, keep calm. Buy the newspaper and leave
the shop.
She did as her inner voice suggested, intending to
walk back to her cousin’s flat, but instead, found her feet
leading her in the direction of a taxi rank. One of the cabs
displayed an illuminated ‘For Hire’ sign in its window.
She lowered her head to ask the driver to take her
immediately to Tarrington Manor. If the driver was
surprised by her choice of destination, he didn’t show it.
She settled herself down in the back seat of the cab,
wondering why she was returning to her ancestral home
and what she would find when she got there.
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