Shadow Over Edmund Street by Suzanne Frankham (read a book .TXT) 📕

However, today wasn’t about money. Today was about pleasing her often disapproving grandfather. She’d been thrilled when he asked her for such an unusual favour; anything to show him she was capable of more than deciding what dress to wear or which colour lipstick was fashionable. Appearances were important for the job he had asked her to do and today she had chosen her clothes and accessories with care. A flash of diamonds for her ears and throat, conservative three-quarter length linen pants, matching knit top and short cardigan. She’d teamed her outfit with the ultimate accessory; the car she parked outside the judge’s house was a rose-pink, soft-top Mercedes perfectly matched to her sandals, nails and handbag.

‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘Is anyone there?’

The man who emerged, with a little Westie trotting beside him, was not what she had expected. Her grandfather had been firm. Very firm. This man was as dangerous as a man can get, and Jessica had expected it to show in his appearance. Instead, she was looking at a tall, distinguished man who radiated respectability. Nevertheless, Jessica never doubted her wily grandfather.

She was thankful her initial surprise was hidden behind her Chanel sunglasses. She pulled herself upright and let the man’s conventional appearance slide over her.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ she said smiling, taking off her sunglasses to reveal her deep brown eyes sparkling with health and vitality. ‘I was wondering if the owner was about. Is that you, by any chance?’

The judge took off the glasses he was wearing to reveal a pair of intense blue eyes, and for a fleeting moment Jessica thought she glimpsed a hidden persona. His glance was casual, but she had no doubt he took in everything about her in an instant. She held her breath and hoped she’d got the look right. She’d gone for casual elegance, money displayed with discretion, the private schoolgirl manner. She saw his eyes linger on the tennis bracelet on her left wrist, a delicate string of blue, green and pink sapphires. Was sure he recognised it for what it was, a Versace original.

She smiled again, channelled charm.

‘I’m the owner,’ he said, watching as she bent down and petted the dog. It smiled and wagged its tail.

‘I know this is cheeky, and I do apologise,’ said Jessica, ‘but I’m house hunting. Are you by any chance doing this place up to put it on the market?’

‘I was thinking about it,’ the judge replied.

‘Oh, really?’ Jessica clasped her hands together. ‘Oh, how wonderful! I just love the position. These old villas require a lot of maintenance I know, but they are worth it.’ She smiled again, saw his face soften and knew she had almost won. ‘May I introduce myself? I’m Jessica Chan, and I’d like you to meet my friend, Timothy St John,’ she said, taking her boyfriend’s hand and drawing him forward.

She watched, fascinated, as the judge took in the one thousand years of privilege Timothy, merchant banker from London, exuded from every pore of his toned body. Timothy straightened up and offered his hand to the older man, putting on a winning smile.

Soon Jessica knew they would be looking over the house, and she thought, noting the narrow, tree-covered lane leading to a small patch of beach a stone’s throw from the front door, she might actually buy it. Why not? The location was brilliant. Especially on a day like today, with the summer sun beginning to show itself. Such a shame Timothy was so boring, or else she might put together a package deal and instal him in the house— but she was sick of listening to him drone on about money deals and cricket.

* Alex had been sitting with Mr Chan most of the morning, trying to concentrate on a game of chess. It was a relief to push the chess board away when Jessica waltzed into the apartment, a huge smile on her face.

‘Granddad,’ Jessica said, giving the old man a hug. ‘And Dog,’ she bent to pat him ‘I’ve just been talking to the most darling little West Highland Terrier, much prettier than you, I have to say.’ The dog rolled over, allowing her to pat his stomach. ‘Alex,’ she said, turning to him, ‘good to see you again.’

Alex found himself grinning despite the dose of nerves he’d had all morning. It was hard to resist Jessica. ‘I’m not happy about this,’ he said, sounding like one of his old schoolteachers. Mr Chan and Jessica exchanged a look.

‘Why don’t you two sit down? I’ll make tea. Granddad, where’s the oolong I bought for you?’

‘Second drawer on the left,’ said Mr Chan, but neither of the men sat. Both hovered near the bench as Jessica worked in the kitchen.

‘Where’s Timothy?’ asked Mr Chan. ‘I thought he was with you?’

‘Oh, he was, but I sent him home. Couldn’t talk about you know who with him here. And,’ she added, ‘there’s only so much drivel I can listen to. Sorry Granddad, I know he ticks most of the boxes. But he is one of the most boring men I’ve ever met. He was trying to explain the difference between silly mid-on and silly mid-off. Some things are worth learning and some things are not! And,’ she continued, ‘he didn’t think much of the house, whereas I think I might buy it.’

‘What?’ asked Mr Chan.

‘The house. I think I might buy it. It’s in a great location and you know what you always say Granddad—location is everything.’ She busied herself with setting out tea cups.

‘It’s for sale?’ asked Alex.

‘Yes. According to your man, he’s doing it up to sell. Not a huge renovation, which suits me, since I’m not here very much. It will be more of a tidy up. New bathrooms, new kitchen, French doors opening out towards the water, a new upstairs balcony. He said he’s hoping to put it on the market early next year, but he needs council approval for the