A Second Chance For The Millionaire. Nicola Marsh

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      ‘Mmm,’ she cooed, and he responded with a throaty growl that sounded much the same.

      ‘No problems?’ she asked Mrs Bates, the neighbour who’d kept watch in her home.

      ‘No sign of anyone.’

      ‘Let me make you a cup of tea,’ Harriet offered gratefully.

      But Mrs Bates refused and departed. She was a kindly soul and she knew Harriet wanted to be alone with Phantom, although how she could bear the loneliness of the apartment Mrs Bates couldn’t imagine.

      But to Harriet it would never be lonely while Phantom was there. She hugged him fiercely before saying, ‘Come on, let’s take a walk. You need space to go mad in.’

      They slipped out together into the darkness and walked down through the streets of the town, heading for the shore.

      ‘But not “the ogre’s” private beach,’ she said. ‘From now on, that’s out of bounds.’

      They found a place on the public sands where they could chase each other up and down in the moonlight.

      ‘That’s enough,’ she gasped at last. ‘Yes, I know you could go on till morning, but I’m out of puff.’

      She threw herself down on the sand and stretched out on her back. Phantom immediately put a heavy paw on her chest, looking down into her face while she ruffled his fur.

      ‘That’s better,’ she sighed. ‘How could he not like you when you were trying so hard to be friendly? Being hurled to the ground by you is a real privilege. You don’t do it for everyone.’ She gave a soft grunt of laughter. ‘Just people with expensive clothes. If he really does send me the bill you’ll be on plain rations for a long time. So will I, come to think of it.’

      He woofed.

      ‘The funny thing is, when I first saw him…he seemed decent, as if he really loved the sun and the fresh air; like someone who’d found himself in heaven. But when I discovered who he was he looked different. And then he was so rotten to you—’

      Suddenly she sat up and threw her arms around the dog.

      ‘You must be careful,’ she said fiercely. ‘You must, you must! If anything happened to you I couldn’t bear it.’

      Harriet buried her face against him. Phantom made a gentle sound, but he didn’t try to move. This often happened, and he knew what he must do: keep still, stay warm and gentle, just be there for her. Instinct told him what she needed, and his heart told him how to give it.

      ‘They think I’m crazy,’ she whispered, ‘getting paranoid over your safety. Well, perhaps I really am crazy, but you’re all I’ve got—without you, there’s no love or happiness in the world…only you…’

      She kissed him and gave a shaky laugh.

      ‘I expect you think I’m crazy too. Poor old boy. Come on, let’s get home and you can have something special to eat.’

      They left the beach, climbing the gently sloping road that led to the town. Suddenly she stopped. Far away, she could just make out the house where Rancing had lived before he fled, and where ‘the ogre’ would soon appear. It went by the grandiose name of Giant’s Beacon, which might have been justified in its great days, but seemed rather over-the-top now that it was in a state of disrepair. At this distance it was tiny, but it stood out against the moonlit sky, and she could just make out that lights were coming on.

      ‘He’s here,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, heavens, let’s get home, fast.’

      They ran all the way, and as soon as they were safely inside Harriet locked the door.

      Within hours of Darius’s arrival the news had spread throughout the island. Kate, who’d kept house for Rancing, had a ready audience in the pub that evening.

      ‘You should see the computers he’s brought,’ she said. ‘Dozens of ’em. One for this and one for that, and something he calls “video links” so he can talk to people on the other side of the world, and there they are on the screen, large as life. It’s like magic.’

      The others grinned. Kate had never quite come to terms with the dot-com revolution, and most modern communications struck her as magic. She had little idea that behind its sweet, traditional image Herringdean was a more modern place than it looked.

      Darius was also making the discovery, and was delighted with it. For a while he would be able to run his main business and his many subsidiary businesses, controlling everything from the centre of the web. It would be enough until he was ready to turn this place to his financial advantage.

      Checking through the figures, he discovered that it was larger than he’d thought, about a hundred square miles with a population of a hundred and twenty thousand. Sheep and dairy farming flourished, so did fishing, and there were several industries, notably boat building and brewing. Ellarick was not only a flourishing town, but a port with its own annual regatta.

      One source of prosperity was tourism. Now summer was coming, the hotels were filling up as visitors began to flood the island, seeking tranquillity in the country lanes or excitement in the boats.

      Ellarick also contained an elderly accountant called James Henly, who had dealt with Rancing’s business. An early visit from him pleased Darius with the news that the rent paid to him by the other inhabitants was considerable, but also displeased him with the discovery that he was the victim of yet another piece of sharp practice.

      ‘Mr Rancing persuaded several of his larger tenants, like the breweries, to pay him several months’ rent in advance,’ Henly explained in his dry voice. ‘Apparently, he convinced them that there would be tax advantages. I need hardly say that I knew nothing about this. I was away and he took advantage of my absence to act on his own account. When I returned and found out, it was too late. He’d pocketed the money, and within a few days he’d vanished.’

      ‘Meaning that it will be some time before I can collect rent from these establishments again,’ Darius said in a mild manner that revealed nothing.

      ‘I’m afraid so. Of course, what he’s done is legally open to question since he made over everything to you, so technically it was your money he took. You could always try to get it back.’

      His tone made it clear that he didn’t attach much hope to that idea. Darius, who attached none at all, controlled his temper. It wasn’t his way to display emotion to employees.

      ‘How much are we talking about?’ he said with a shrug.

      He felt less like shrugging when he saw the figures. Rancing had staged a spectacular theft and there was nothing he could do about it. But at all costs Henly mustn’t be allowed to suspect his dismay.

      ‘No problem,’ Darius said as indifferently as he could manage. ‘The tourism season is just starting. I shan’t let a detail get me down.’

      Henly’s eyes widened at the idea of such a financial blow being a mere detail. He began to think the stories of Mr Falcon’s impending ruin were untrue after all.

      Darius, who’d intended him to think exactly that, asked casually, ‘Did he leave owing you any money?’

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