WINTER PASTIMES…

Over the following three months Ian’s numerous telephone calls were never returned by Fiona. Finally, he cornered her after everyone had left the office. Angrily, she brushed off his hand from her arm.

“For God’s sake, don’t you get it? Stop kidding yourself. I am not for you, and you most certainly are not for me. It was just a fling, so for Chris’s sake, stop bothering me. It’s bad enough to see you here every day to remind me just how stupid I was. But it won’t be for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving next week.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am going to the family chalet in Switzerland, no doubt for the last time before that goes in the destruction of the Lundy family. My brother Alistair was right about you, Ian Morris. You’re nothing but a push little upstart. No breeding, only interested in money.”

Another extract from chapter fifty-one of – ‘Go Swift and Far – a Tale of Bath’ The first book of The Westcott Chronicles of Bath