Free Last Resort by Susan Lewis Page A

scattered across the terracottatiled floor and ran her hands along the backs of voluminous-cushioned sofas and chairs, she couldn't help wondering why the rental was so low for such a magnificent house.
    "Because,"
    the agent told her,
    "the owners will only accept a five-year commitment and they realize that often people want only two years, maybe less."
    "And what if I want to leave before the five years are up?"
    Penny asked, wandering out into the oak-beamed and stone-flagged entrance hall and making for the stairs.
    They will require a minimum of six months"
    notice."
    Penny didn't think that would pose much of a problem.
    "Where are the owners?"
    she asked.
    They live in South Africa/
    "Don't they ever come here?"
    "No, the house is an investment,"
    the agent replied.
    "As you can see, it is beautifully furnished and cared for."
    "Mmm/ Penny commented, thinking how surprisingly homely it felt despite its rambling spaciousness and air of grandeur.
    "And this,"
    the agent said, pushing open a solid oak door on the first landing and standing aside,
    "is the master bedroom."
    As Penny went past her, the agent flicked on the lights, then went to the double french windows to push open the shutters. Beyond was a cosy little veranda with its own view of the sea and a white, wrought-iron table and 59
    chairs set slightly back from the jasmine-covered balustrades.
    When the agent turned round, she was bewildered to see Penny shaking her head and laughing.
    "I'm sorry/ Penny said,
    "but it's so fantastic I can hardly believe it,"
    and bouncing on to the king-sized antique brass bed, which was covered in the same white satin and lace of the drapes that fanned down over the wall behind it, she sat surveying the expensive fitted wardrobes, chests and dressing table that lined the walls.
    "And through here is the principal bathroom/ the agent said, going inside and switching on the lights.
    Penny was already prepared, but, even so, its luxury made her gasp.
    Everything, from the long, doublebasined vanity unit with its recessed lights, to the bidet and toilet, to the multi-head shower and deep corner bath, was in a soft, ivory-coloured marble with a hint of green vein running through. The palms and ferns were fake, but it was hard to tell even when she touched them, and the plush, cushiony carpet was deep enough to lose her feet in.
    "Well,"
    Penny said, as they walked out of the front door and she gazed up at the quaint, sixteenth-century hilltop village of Mougins,
    "I think you can start drawing up the contract. I'm going back to England tomorrow, but anything that needs my signature can always be sent Chronopost.
    By the way, you did say that the maid and gardeners are paid from the rental, didn't you?"
    "That is correct/ the agent confirmed.
    "And the pool maintenance. And the security system."
    "Incredible,"
    Penny murmured. All this for a mere thirty thousand francs a month, which at today's exchange rate was round about three and a half thousand pounds. That was five hundred more than her allowance ... Still, if she didn't manage to beat the price
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    down she'd make up the shortfall from her own pocket, because this was probably the only chance she'd ever get to live in a place like this. And with one last, disbelieving glance around, she got back into the agent's car, feeling so good about the extraordinary success of these past two weeks that she was almost looking forward to seeing David, if for no other reason than to gloat at what she'd managed to achieve without him. Childish, she knew, but there was already little doubt in her mind that this forced partnership of theirs was, at best, going to be spiked with feisty little battles of one-upmanship. At worst . . . well, that was something she wouldn't dwell upon for now, since she was still pretty convinced that she had yet to get a full picture of his real involvement here.
    She'd spent many hours trying to imagine what kind of subterfuge or chicanery might be afoot