Free The Lost Soldier by Costeloe Diney Page A

Potter out of the corner of her eye to judge his reaction.
    He looked at her quizzically and then laughed, “No, no I don’t think so. Not my scene.”
    “What is your scene?” asked Rachel.
    “Something a bit older, with character.”
    “You mean with mullioned windows and roses round the door?”
    “More like needing a new roof, re-wiring and re-plumbing,” he replied.
    “Have you found somewhere?”
    “All these questions,” Nick said lightly. “Anyone could tell you’re a journalist.”
    “So, have you?” Rachel persisted.
    “Nothing definite,” he answered, “I’m still looking round. I can take my time till the right thing comes up. How are you getting on with your piece about the trees?”
    Now it was Rachel’s turn to be evasive.
    “Oh, I’ve just been chatting to people, you know. Testing village opinion.”
    “And?”
    “And, you’ll have to read my article in next week’s Chronicle .” She picked up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder got to her feet. “I must make tracks,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”
    “Are you busy this evening?” Nick asked suddenly, and when she paused and looked surprised he went on, “It’s just that I’ve heard there’s a rather good night-club opened up recently in Belcaster.”
    “The Grasshopper?”
    “Yes that’s the one. Have you been there? Is it good?”
    “No,” Rachel replied, “I haven’t. It is supposed to be good.”
    “I wondered if you’d like to go this evening.” Nick watched her face as she considered the invitation, and he wondered what had actually made him issue it. He had had no thought of going to the Grasshopper when he’d come into the pub, but there was something about this girl opposite him. He had only met her three times, two of them very briefly, but each time she lingered in his mind, and he wanted to get to know her better. He liked the way her dark curls framed her face and the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, and the laugh when it came, delighted him. Nick thought as he watched her that he enjoyed making her laugh.
    “No, I don’t think so, thank you very much.” Rachel sounded apologetic. “It’s kind of you to ask, but I think not.”
    “Me, or the club or both?” enquired Nick cheerfully.
    That made Rachel laugh. “Neither,” she said. “It’s just I’ve got stuff to do before Monday and I’m spending tomorrow with my grandmother. Thank you all the same.”
    “I won’t be discouraged then,” Nick grinned, finding he meant what he was saying. “I’ll ask you again. Shall I ring you at the office?”
    “If you like,” Rachel agreed. “But I must warn you that I often work anti-social hours.”
    “Fine,” Nick nodded. “I can be anti-social too, no trouble. Give my love to your grandmother.”
    “I will,” promised Rachel still smiling. “She’ll be delighted. Goodbye, now,” and turning away she left the pub without looking back.
    She spent the rest of the afternoon in the village, and her first stop was the Post Office Stores. The post office part was shut, but the shop was open.
    “Excuse me, are you Mrs Gail Milton?” she asked the woman sitting reading her book behind the counter. The woman who was about the same age as Rachel, looked at her a little suspiciously and said that she was.
    Rachel handed over her card. “I was at the meeting in the village hall on Wednesday,” she explained, “and I wondered how you felt about the proposed housing development.”
    “All in favour of it,” replied Gail. “We need more people to keep the village alive, specially the younger ones. This place is fast becoming a dormitory for Belcaster.”
    “Don’t you think the executive houses proposed for most of the site would only make that worse?” suggested Rachel. “I understand that there aren’t many starter homes planned.”
    “No,” agreed Gail, “but any are better than none. I’d welcome anything that would boost our trade.” She indicated the book