Twenty One

Her

Max was on a mission – that much was apparent. Liv hadn’t reappeared from the Ladies. She’d just texted me to say she was getting a cab home. I’d broken the news to Max, only to get a mouthful for my pains. I sat at my desk, poring over the Grewer files and wondering why Nathaniel hadn’t responded to my message. I couldn’t make it out.

What had I done, exactly, for him to ignore me? It was hardly my fault how things had ended. At no point had I envisioned him being dragged off on murder charges, immediately after sleeping with him for the first time. What had I been supposed to think? What did I think, even now? He’d been released for the time being, but the investigation was ongoing. It didn’t necessarily mean he was innocent, only that they didn’t have enough to charge him.

When I finally heard the alert go off on my phone, I took it out straight away and read it. It was from him, but it wasn’t what I was longing to hear.

You’ve a bright future ahead of you, Miss Anderton. Best you stay away from me. Take care, Grace.

I read it several times, willing it to mean something other than what it so clearly did. He was washing his hands of me. He didn’t want to see me again, and he was using my public persona as an excuse. I felt a lump growing in my throat and shoved the phone back in my bag, wanting the pain to disappear along with it. It didn’t. I carried on with the Grewer account, blinking hard as I looked at the figures on my screen and tried to check them against the data in the file. My eyes stung and the more I looked at them, the less I could take them in.

All I could think of was Nathaniel’s dismissal of the olive branch I’d thrown him. I’d been willing to trust him, to take a chance on him being the man I’d grown to believe he was, rather than the egotistical psycho described by the tabloids. But I’d been wrong. He was that man. He must be, because I was hurting so bad and he didn’t care. He could switch his feelings on and off like a light switch, clearly. Well – if he’d ever had feelings for me at all.

I carried on battling with the Grewer account for an hour or so more, the pain giving way to anger. He’d led me on. He’d put me through that whole charade at the Castle, before pretending to be in love with me, and now he was cutting all ties, simply because of who I was. It wasn’t fair. He could’ve at least explained things to my face. I deserved that. It was when I realised I was actually biting my lip in fury that I pulled out my phone again and texted him back.

Please don’t make my decisions for me. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation, at the very least? These last few days have been awful.

 

I read it back and was about to send it, when I stopped. I added three more words and then pressed Send.

I miss you.

I put the phone down on my desk and tried to get on with my work, my heart racing in my chest as I realised how desperate I must sound. He didn’t want me and I was refusing to let it go. Should I have simply accepted it and moved on? Ronnie had told me I should take a chance on him, and that was what I was trying to do, but now I wondered if it might have been safer to let it go. I still didn’t know whether I could even trust him.

When, a few minutes later, he texted back, I could barely key in my password, I was so nervous. I opened the text and my heart gave a huge thump as I read his reply:

I miss you, too, you nutter, and of course you deserve an explanation. I just don’t think you should be seen with me. I don’t want to damage your good name.

I didn’t even hesitate. I texted back immediately:

I’ll wear a hat.

I pressed Send, then thought again.

And sunglasses.

…I added, pressing Send again, mere seconds later. His reply came swiftly this time, within a minute.

See that you do. I’ll meet you outside Ffyvells at five thirty.

I couldn’t stifle an exclamation of delight and, as soon as lunchtime arrived, I headed out to the shops, in search of the necessary articles of disguise.

The weather had improved by lunchtime and, as soon as five o’clock hit, I rushed to the Ladies to get ready for our rendezvous. As well as a straw hat and ridiculously large sunglasses, I’d bought a summer dress and sandals to replace my tired work clothes. They were too hot, anyway, now the sun was out, and didn’t go with the sun hat. I stepped into the dress – it was strappy, long and cream with pale blue flowers – and slipped on the sandals. I pulled my hair up into a knot at the nape of my neck, and gingerly added the hat and the sunglasses to the ensemble. I gazed at myself in the mirror for a moment or two, wondering if anyone would recognise me. I had no idea.

I was ready by twenty past, and went downstairs and out onto the steps. I was excited, but horribly nervous, too, having no idea how the evening was likely to pan out. I found the much-abused box of cigarettes in the bottom of my bag, took one out and lit it. I inhaled deeply and waited. Almost immediately, the by-now familiar hand stretched across me to swipe it, but I neatly side-stepped and turned to face him, blowing the smoke I’d inhaled into his face.

‘Ouff!’ Nathaniel stepped back, flapping his hand in front of him to dispel it. ‘What was that for?’

‘That’s for not getting in touch sooner,’ I said. ‘I’ll throw it on the ground now, shall I? Save you the bother.’

‘Littering’s an offence,’ he parried, sounding amused as I suited my actions to my words. ‘You look…unrecognisable, Miss Anderton.’

I smiled, taking this as a compliment, before grinning wickedly; ‘You look…extraordinary.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded crestfallen. It was hard to be sure, because I couldn’t see his eyes. He was wearing sunglasses too, and a cream Panama hat. ‘I thought we looked perfectly matched.’

Since he was wearing a cream linen suit and an open-necked pale blue shirt, I couldn’t argue. If we’d tried, we couldn’t have been more colour-coordinated, and it gave me a warm feeling inside. ‘You look gorgeous,’ I whispered in his ear, as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

‘You too,’ he said, bending down to pick something up. I looked down to see what it was. I raised my eyebrows – not that he could probably tell behind my sunglasses. ‘A hamper?’ I said, feeling ridiculously relieved and light-hearted suddenly. ‘And wicker, no less.’

‘Only the best for Madam.’ He held out his other hand to me. ‘We’re going for a picnic.’

‘A picnic?’ I actually giggled with relief, as I took his hand. I’d been so worried the evening was going to turn into some kind of formal de-briefing – that I’d be assessed, somehow, and found wanting – but it appeared not.

‘And that’s not all,’ he said, sounding proud of himself. ‘We’re going by bus.’

He let go my hand and reached into his pocket, drawing out a disreputable and battered-looking pamphlet. I took it from him, and he took my other hand again.

‘This is a timetable,’ I said, holding it up in front of me.

‘I know what it is, Miss Know-It-All,’ he said, smugly. ‘I found it at home.’

‘How long have you had it?’

‘I…have no idea,’ he said, sounding less sure of himself. ‘Someone left it…I don’t know when.’

‘You don’t say.’ I couldn’t help laughing. ‘It’s out of date.’

‘Do buses go out of date?’

‘You’re a nightmare.’ I decided it was time to take charge. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I thought…Hyde Park?’

‘Come on.’ I took his hand more firmly, and steered him up Lombard Street to where we could catch a bus.

Twenty Two

Him

It was so good to see her again. It took me aback, slightly, to realise just how good it was. I felt, at the same time, almost hysterical with relief at being back in her company, and immensely vulnerable. I hadn’t realised quite how far I’d allowed my defences to drop.