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‘Office work.’ She got up. ‘Right. I’ll take those things. Try to sleep if you can. I’ll stay for a while to see how you get on, then I must get back.’
‘No laptop today?’
‘Certainly not. Friday was a one-off, Mr Tennent.’ She picked up the tray. ‘Try to sleep.’
‘Thanks, I will,’ he murmured drowsily. ‘What can I do for you in return?’
‘Get better, please.’
Back in the kitchen Emily emptied the carton of soup she’d bought into a mug and put it in the microwave. She left the loaf in a prominent place on a board, placed the breadknife beside it and a dish of butter close at hand, then made herself some tea and sat on one of the smart stools at the bar, yawning. The late night was catching up on her. From now on, definitely no more writing after midnight.
She wrote instructions on the memo pad about the food she’d left ready, and after a moment’s hesitation added her new, unlisted phone number. She tiptoed in with her note to find that Lucas Tennent, obviously feeling the effect of his disturbed nights, was out for the count. But he looked a lot better than the wild-eyed apparition of earlier on.
The house in Spitalfields was ablaze with lights in Nat’s ground-floor section when Emily got back. Not brave enough to ask how things had gone with the trip to Chastlecombe, she let herself in and toiled up the two flights of steep stairs to her room, then put on speed when she heard her phone ringing. She unlocked her door and made a dash across the room, worried it was Lucas feeling worse. Then she stopped dead, every hackle erect, when a different, all too familiar voice began leaving a message.
‘Pick up, Emily. I know you’re there. We need to talk. Pick up.’ There was a pause, then a soft chuckle. ‘Don’t be childish. Ring me.’
CHAPTER TWO
EMILY glared at the machine. The mere sound of Miles Denny’s voice still tied her stomach in knots. But with cold animosity now. Once upon a time she’d been attracted to the sexy drawl he cultivated. Just as, according to Miles, her own husky voice had been an instant turn-on for him. But that had been in the beginning when he’d been moving heaven and earth to get her to live with him. Emily clenched her fists. With hindsight she found it hard to believe she could have been such a fool.
She had been working in a firm of commercial property consultants when Miles joined the company, and almost from the day they met he’d pursued her relentlessly. Firmly against inter-office relationships, Emily had held him off at first. But his persistence had been flattering, she’d been lonely without Ginny, and eventually, after wearing her down with months of persuasion, he’d won. But, once they were actually sharing a home, Miles’ contribution to the running of it was minimal. In the evenings, while Emily cooked their meal and dealt with housework and laundry, he spent his time on the sofa, recharging his batteries in front of the television. Her only break had been on Friday nights, when Miles took her out for a meal.
How could she have been so stupid? she thought in disgust. Living together had soon shown her how little they had in common, and when Miles had taken to spending regular time with male friends after work Emily had thoroughly enjoyed the evenings with no dinner to cook and the television firmly turned off. Early to bed with a book had meant she was always asleep, or pretending to be, by the time Miles came home.
When it had become obvious that a good night’s sleep was infinitely preferable to the lovemaking she’d found so disappointing with Miles, Emily had known it was time to move on. Deciding to tell him straight away, she’d waited up until he got home from one of his men-only evenings. And discovered why Miles had always been so meticulous about showering before sharing their bed. He’d reeked of musky, alien perfume and other scents Emily had identified with furious distaste.
The phone rang, bringing her back to the present with a bump. She tensed, eyeing the phone belligerently, but this time the message was from Lucas Tennent.
Emily seized the receiver. ‘I’m here,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Is something wrong? How do you feel?’
‘Not marvellous, but thanks to you, Miss Warner, there’s an outside chance I’ll live. Now I can string two words together without barking like a hound, I’m ringing to thank you.’
‘Only too happy to help,’ she assured him, eyebrows raised at the change in his attitude.
‘I heated the soup, as per your instructions,’ he went on. ‘And even cut some bread, but I was too damn feeble to wrestle with the coffee machine so I made some tea. I didn’t know I had any tea—’
‘I bought it for you.’
‘Then I owe you, Miss Warner.’
‘You can pay me tomorrow, Mr Tennent. Is there anything else you need?’
‘Just a morning paper as you come in, if you would. How do you get here?’
‘I walk.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Spitalfields. Would you like me to make lunch for you?’
‘Don’t bother about that. Just the sound of a human voice will do. Wallowing alone with my bug soon lost its appeal.’
Emily frowned. ‘The Donaldsons are away, of course, but surely you have other friends who could call round?’
‘The two most likely succumbed to the bug before I did—’ He broke off to cough, and Emily waited until he was quiet before asking if there was anything else he needed.
‘I can get it on my way in, Mr Tennent.’
‘Call me Lucas.’
‘Not suitable,’ she said firmly.
‘Why the hell not?’
‘For obvious reasons.’
‘If you mean because you work for me, that’s rubbish,’ he said with scorn. ‘According to the great and good we live in a classless society these days.’
‘It’s nothing to do with class,’ she said indignantly.
‘You said choice of name was up to me,’ he reminded her.
‘I meant my name—’ She stopped, wondering why she was making a fuss. ‘Oh, all right, whatever you say.’
‘Bravo. Now I can go happy to bed.’
‘You should be in bed right now.’
‘I was speaking figuratively. Apart from staggering out to the kitchen to make my supper, I haven’t left my bed all day.’ He coughed again. ‘I trust you feel suitably sympathetic?’
‘Of course I do. I was a fellow sufferer not so long ago, remember. Goodnight. I hope you sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Emily had barely put the phone down when it rang again.
‘At last, darling,’ said Claire Warner. ‘I’ve been trying to get you for the past ten minutes.’
‘Hi, Mother. What’s wrong?’
‘Miles rang here half an hour ago, demanding your address.’
‘No!’ Emily groaned. ‘You didn’t tell him?’
‘Of course not,’ said her mother scornfully. ‘I didn’t even speak to him. Your father answered the phone and wiped the floor with him; told him to leave you alone.’
‘Way to go, Dad,’ crowed Emily, then sobered. ‘Actually, Miles left a message here just now, too. He’s got hold of my new number somehow.’
‘Oh, Emily. Have you given it to someone he knows?’
‘Only Ginny. But she wouldn’t tell him.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t. How is she?’
‘Fine. We had our usual little jolly together yesterday. Though she spent most of it lecturing me.’ Emily explained about Lucas Tennent’s flu.
Because Claire Warner failed to see why her daughter had to do the man’s cleaning in the first place, let alone look after him now he was ill, she expressed wholehearted agreement with Ginny. ‘For heaven’s sake, child. It’s not all that long since you were down with flu yourself. Amongst other things.’
‘Temper, mainly.’
‘You’re certainly well shot of Miles Denny. I hope Nat hasn’t put your name on his door!’
‘Of course he hasn’t. Nat lets me know if my presence is required when he’s around, and Ginny rings me as she’s coming down the street and I go down and let her in.’
‘Terribly cloak and dagger—like living in a safe house.’
‘Nat’s house is safe.’
‘You know what I mean!’
‘You read too many crime novels, Mother. I just needed a place in London to get myself together for a bit. And Nat has provided it. I’m very grateful to him.’
‘Darling,’ said her mother, after a pause. ‘Nat’s a charming man, but—’
‘Oh, Mother! Nat is Andrew’s friend, not mine at all, really. And he’s married to Thea and father to the twins. What on earth do you take me for?’
‘At the moment, a very vulnerable girl,’ said Claire Warner bluntly.
‘I’ve learned my lesson, believe me.’
‘No more men, you mean?’
‘Certainly not. I’m off Miles, Mother dear, not men in general.’
But afterwards Emily felt deeply uneasy. If Miles had her phone number maybe he could track down her address, too—even have it already. Though if he was brass-faced enough to turn up in person he’d have to get past Nat, and possibly Mark as well, to get hold of her.
Emily had just got down to work on her book when the phone rang for a third time. She groaned in frustration, but at the sound of Ginny’s familiar tones she cut through the message to answer.
‘Hold it, I’m here.’
‘Emily, thank heavens. You’ve been engaged forever. You’ll never guess who came round here this evening!’
Emily sighed. ‘I bet I can—Miles.’
‘Yes. How did you work that out?’
‘He rang my parents earlier, but my father gave him a very un-Christian ticking off, according to Mother.’
‘Brilliant! That must have been before he came here, then. I was in the shower when he turned up, so Charlie left him cooling his heels in the hall until I deigned to appear.’
‘Well done. What did he want?’
‘Your phone number and address, of course.’
‘You didn’t—’
‘Of course not. Even though he kept hammering away that it was a matter of life and death that he got in touch with you.’
Emily snorted. ‘Not a hope.’
‘My words exactly. He didn’t like it one bit,’ Ginny informed her with satisfaction. ‘Took umbrage, big-time.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Charlie showed him the door.’
Emily giggled. Ginny’s large husband was by nature imperturbable, unless someone was foolish enough to upset his wife. ‘I don’t suppose he physically threw Miles out?’ she asked hopefully.
Ginny laughed. ‘Next best thing. I doubt Miles will pay us a repeat visit. Let’s hope he doesn’t try to visit you, either. Has he ever met Nat?’
‘No. Hopefully he never will, either.’
The idea of Miles tracking her down kept Emily awake for a while, but in the end she slept well enough, and woke with a feeling of anticipation she eventually identified—with alarm—as pleasure at seeing Lucas Tennent again. None of that, she warned herself, and went off to take a shower.
When Emily went downstairs later Nat was in the hall, about to leave for the day. He looked tired and pale, but not, she saw with relief, as depressed as he usually did after parting with the twins.
‘How did it go?’ she asked warily. ‘I didn’t like to barge in on you yesterday to ask.’
‘The twins flew at Thea, and before she could say a word demanded that I stay for tea.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘To my amazement, their wish was granted. And the occasion went off surprisingly well, mainly because the twins dominated the entire occasion over the tea and cakes.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Next time maybe Thea will ask me to supper.’
‘Oh, Nat, I do hope so. By the way,’ she added, ‘my ex left a message on my phone last night.’
Nat’s eyes narrowed. ‘How the hell did he get hold of the number?’
‘No idea. I just hope he doesn’t ferret out the address, too.’
‘Don’t worry, Em. I’ll deal with him if he does. Give me a photograph.’
‘No can do. I burned them all.’
‘Description, then.’
‘About your height, but heavier, dark eyes and hair, toothpaste ad smile, and so full of himself you’ll recognise him on sight.’
Nat grinned. ‘You’re still angry with him, then.’
‘Livid!’ She looked at her watch. ‘Must go.’
‘You look rather special this morning,’ he said, giving her the once-over.
