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as the quiver of awareness that accompanied it. Enough! she told herself firmly as a puff of plaster dust landed on her shoulder. Heath had gone back to London, and there was work to be done here. ‘There should be life at Hebers Ghyll,’ she announced to the girls. ‘We can’t let it crumble to dust and do nothing about it.’
    ‘Aye aye, Captain.’
    The girls delivered a mock-salute as Bronte warmed to her theme. ‘There should be life and warmth and music—and there will be again.’
    The girls whooped and cheered. ‘How about we help you after work and at weekends?’ Colleen suggested when they’d all calmed down.
    Bronte was moved by the offer. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’
    ‘Why not?’ Maisie demanded. ‘It could be fun.’
    ‘Spiders are fun?’ Bronte seemed doubtful.
    ‘Well, we can’t leave you here on your own, can we?’ Colleen pointed out. ‘If you’re going to be battling ghosts and spiders, we want to be part of it, don’t we, Maisie?’
    ‘I’ll trade you my most excellent work with a broom and a ghost-busters kit, for a drink at the pub,’ Maisie suggested. ‘How about that?’
    ‘Deal,’ Bronte agreed. ‘Let’s get to it,’ she announced, leading the way to the storeroom where the cleaning equipment was kept.
    ‘Working party present and correct,’ Colleen confirmed once they were armed with brushes and bin liners. ‘Where would you like us to start?’
    ‘Not with mouse droppings or spiders’ webs,’ Maisie protested, wielding her dustpan. ‘The only thing I’m prepared to scream for is a man.’
    I wish, Bronte thought, imagining she was in a clinch with Heath. ‘The best I can offer you is a good scrumping in the apple orchard.’
    ‘I think Maisie had something more hands on in mind than that,’ Colleen suggested dryly.
    ‘You do surprise me. Why don’t we clearup as much as we can in here and then reward ourselves with a swim in the lake?’
    ‘Skinny-dipping?’ Her friends shrieked, hugging themselves in anticipation.
    ‘Well, as we haven’t moved in with our fourteen wardrobes of clothes yet—seems skinny-dipping is our only option.’
    ‘Could you arrange for the lake to be heated before we dive in?’ Colleen demanded.
    ‘You’ll soon get warm,’ Bronte promised as visions of childhood’s endless summer days spent swimming or rowing on the lake filled her head with slightly rose-tinted images—swiftly followed by red-hot thoughts of Heath rising like a wet-shirted Mr Darcy dripping water from his muscular frame—
    ‘Bronte?’ the girls prompted.
    ‘Sorry.’ Tearing her thoughts away from Heath, Bronte focused on the here and now. It would be lonely at the hall without the girls and working together promised to be fun.
    And if Heath never came back?
    They’d get by somehow. But because she was stubborn she was going to make that call to London to check if he would be holding interviews for jobs at the hall.
    ‘Daydreaming about Heath
again?’
Colleen teased her.
    ‘I’ve got bigger things on my mind than Heath,’ Bronte replied, trying to look serious.
    ‘Bigger than Heath?’ Colleen exclaimed, exchanging a knowing look with Maisie.
    ‘You’re disgusting.’ Bronte smothered a smile.
    The business trip he had left Hebers Ghyll to make had been a resounding success. He was back in town within the week, brooding in his office with Bronte on his mind. She was too inquisitive to quietly settle back into life at the cottage, which worried him. She wouldn’t be able to resist taking another look round Hebers Ghyll, which was dangerous. She could be down there now with a bundle of energy and good intentions. He’d made sure everything was locked up securely before he left, but he didn’t trust her—and good intentions wouldn’t stop those walls falling on her head. He had no option. He had to go back.
    He called Quentin from the car to make arrangements to cover his absence at the board meeting, and then he made a few more