скачать книгу бесплатно
Susan hugged her. ‘I can love you to bits at the same time as telling you that you’re making a massive mistake with your life, you know.’
‘Because mums are good at multi-tasking?’
‘You got it, kiddo.’ Susan hugged her again. ‘And I’m with you on this. Anything you need, from scrubbing floors to working a shift in the ticket office to making popcorn, I’m there—and, as I said, I have savings and I’m happy to invest them in this place.’
‘You worked hard for that money.’
‘And interest rates are so pathetic that my savings are earning me nothing. I’d rather that money was put to good use. Making my daughter’s life better—and that would make me very happy indeed. You can’t put a price on that.’
Nicole hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum. I love you. And you are so getting the best pudding in the world.’
‘You mean, we have to stop by the supermarket on the way back to your flat because there’s nothing in your fridge,’ Susan said dryly.
Nicole grinned. ‘You know me so well.’
* * *
Later that evening, when Susan had gone home, Nicole checked her phone. As she’d half expected, there was a message from Clarence. Did you talk to your mum?
Yes. Did you talk to your dad?
To her pleasure, he replied almost instantly.
No. There wasn’t time.
Nicole was pretty sure that meant Clarence hadn’t been able to face a row.
What did your mum say? he asked.
Even though she had a feeling that he was asking her partly to distract her from quizzing him about his own situation, it was still nice that he was interested.
We went to see the building.
And?
It’s gorgeous but it needs work.
Then I’d recommend getting a full surveyor’s report, so you can make sure any renovation quotes you get from builders are fair, accurate and complete.
Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that.
I can recommend some people, if you want.
That’d be great. I’ll take you up on that, if the figures stack up and I decide to go ahead with getting the business back up and running.
Although Nicole had told herself she’d only do it if the figures worked out, she knew it was a fib. She’d fallen in love with the building and for the first time in years she was excited at the idea of starting work on something. Clarence obviously lived in Surrey Quays, or he wouldn’t be part of the forum; so he’d see the boards come down from the front of the Electric Palace or hear about the renovations from some other eagle-eyed person on the Surrey Quays website. She really ought to tell him before it started happening. After all, he was her friend. And he’d said that he had experience in the entertainment and service industry, so he might have some great ideas for getting the cinema up and running again. He’d already made her think about having a survey done, which wouldn’t have occurred to her—she’d just intended to find three builders with good reputations and would pick the middle quote of the three.
But, even as she started to type her news, something held her back.
And she knew what it was. Jeff’s betrayal had broken her trust. Although she felt she knew Clarence well, and he was the only person she’d even consider talking to about this apart from her mum and best friend, she found herself halting instead of typing a flurry of excited words about her plans.
Maybe it was better to wait to tell him about it until she’d got all her ducks in a row and knew exactly what she was doing.
What’s stopping you going ahead? he asked.
I need to work out the figures first. See if it’s viable.
So your mum said the same as I did—that it’ll get you out of the job you hate?
Yes, she admitted.
Good—and you’re listening to both of us?
I’m listening, she said. But it’s still early days, Clarence. I don’t want to talk about it too much right now—
She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t trust him. That would mean explaining about Jeff, and she still cringed when she thought about it. How she’d been blithely unaware of the real reason Jeff had asked her to live with him, until she’d overheard that conversation in the toilets. One of the women touching up her make-up by the mirror had said how her boyfriend was actually living with someone else right then but didn’t love her—he was only living with the other woman because his boss wasn’t prepared to give the promotion to someone who wasn’t settled down, and he was going to leave her as soon as he got the promotion.
Nicole had winced in sympathy with the poor, deluded woman who thought everything was fine, and also wanted to point out to the woman bragging about her fickle lover that, if he was prepared to cheat on his live-in girlfriend with her, there was a very strong chance he’d do exactly the same thing to her with someone else at some point in the future.
The woman had continued, ‘She’s a right cold fish, Jeff says. A boring banker. But Jeff says he really, really loves me. He’s even bought me an engagement ring—look.’
There were encouraging coos from her friends; but Nicole had found herself going cold. Jeff wasn’t exactly a common name. Even if it were how many men called Jeff were living with a girlfriend who was a banker? Surely it couldn’t be...? But when the woman had gone on to describe cheating, lying Jeff, Nicole had realised with devastating clarity that the poor, deluded woman she’d felt sorry for was none other than herself.
She shook herself. That was all baggage that she needed to jettison. And right now Clarence was waiting for her reply.
She continued typing.
In case I jinx it. The building’s going to need a lot of work doing to it. I don’t mean to be offensive and shut you out.
It is what it is, he said. No offence taken. And when you do want to talk about it, Georgy, I’m here.
I know, Clarence. And I appreciate it.
She appreciated the fact he kept things light in the rest of their conversation, too.
Goodnight, Georgy. Sweet dreams.
You, too, Clarence.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ad3c70fa-2185-5222-b01c-44cdb1762718)
‘IT’S A PIPE DREAM, Gabriel. You can’t create something out of nothing. We’re not going to be able to offer our guests exclusive parking.’ Evan Hunter stared at his son. ‘We should’ve got the land on the other side of the hotel.’
‘It was a sealed bid auction, Dad. And we agreed what would be reasonable. Paying over the odds for the land would’ve wrecked our budget and the hotel might not have been viable any more.’
‘And in the meantime there’s an apartment block planned for where our car park should be,’ Evan grumbled.
‘Unless the new owner of the Electric Palace sells to us.’
Evan sighed. ‘Nicole Thomas has already turned down every offer. She says she’s going to restore the place.’
‘It might not be worth her while,’ Gabriel pointed out. ‘She’s a banker. She’ll understand about gearing—and if the restoration costs are too high, she’ll see the sense in selling.’ He paused. ‘To us.’
‘You won’t succeed, Gabriel. It’s a waste of time.’
Maybe, Gabriel thought, this was his chance to prove his worth to his father once and for all. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
‘Charm her into it?’ Evan scoffed.
‘Give her a dose of healthy realism,’ Gabriel corrected. ‘The place has been boarded up for five years. The paintwork outside is in bad condition. There are articles in the Surrey Quays forum from years back calling it a flea-pit, so my guess is that it’s even worse inside. Add damp, mould and vermin damage—it’s not going to be cheap to fix that kind of damage.’
‘The Surrey Quays forum.’ Evan’s eyes narrowed. ‘If she gets them behind her and starts a pressure group...’
‘Dad. I’ll handle it,’ Gabriel said. ‘We haven’t had any objections to the hotel, have we?’
‘I suppose not.’
Gabriel didn’t bother waiting for his father to say he’d done a good job with the PR side. It wasn’t Evan’s style. ‘I’ll handle it,’ he said again. ‘Nicole Thomas is a hard-headed businesswoman. She’ll see the sensible course is to sell the site to us. She gets to cash in her inheritance, and we get the space. Everybody wins.’
‘Hmm.’ Evan didn’t look convinced.
So maybe this would be the tipping point. The thing that finally earned Gabriel his father’s respect.
And then maybe he’d get his freedom.
* * *
The figures worked. So did the admin. Nicole had checked online and there was a huge list of permissions and licences she needed to apply for, but it was all doable. She just needed to make a master list, do some critical path analysis, and tackle the tasks in the right order. Just as she would on a normal day at her desk.
Once she’d talked to her boss and he’d agreed to let her take a sabbatical, she sat at her desk, working out how to break the news to her team.
But then Neil, her second-in-command, came in to her office. ‘Are the rumours true?’
It looked as if the office grapevine had scooped her. ‘What rumours?’ she asked, playing for time.
‘That you’re taking six months off?’
‘Yes.’
He looked her up and down, frowning. ‘You don’t look pregnant.’
Oh, honestly. Was the guy still stuck in the Dark Ages? ‘That’s because I’m not.’
‘Then what? Have you got yourself a mail-order bridegroom on the internet—a rich Russian mafia guy who wants to be respectable?’ He cackled, clearly pleased with himself at the barb.
She rolled her eyes, not rising to the bait. Neil liked to think of himself as the office wise-guy and he invariably made comments for a cheap laugh at other people’s expense. She’d warned him about it before in his annual review, but he hadn’t taken a blind bit of notice. ‘You can tell everyone I’m not pregnant. I’m also not running off to Russia, thinking that I’ve bagged myself a millionaire bridegroom only to discover that it was all a big scam and I’m about to be sold into slavery.’ She steepled her fingers and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Are there any other rumours I need to clarify, or are we done?’
‘Wow—I’ve never heard you...’ He looked at her with something akin to respect. ‘Sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘Apology accepted.’
‘So why are you taking six months off?’
‘It’s a business opportunity,’ she said. ‘Keep your fingers crossed that it works, because if it doesn’t I’ll be claiming my desk back in six months’ time.’
From him, she meant, and clearly he recognised it because his face went dull red. ‘No offence meant.’
‘Good,’ she said, and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Little tip from me. For what’s probably the six millionth time I’ve told you, Neil, try to lose the wisecracks. They make you look less professional and that’ll stand in the way of you being promoted.’
‘All right. Sorry.’ He paused. ‘Are you really going today?’
‘Yes.’
‘Without even having a leaving do?’
‘I might be coming back if my plans don’t work out,’ she reminded him, ‘so it would be a bit fake to have a leaving do. But I’ll put some money behind the bar at the Mucky Duck—’ the nearby pub that most of her team seemed to frequent after work ‘—if you’re all that desperate to have a drink at my expense.’
‘Hang on. You’ll pay for your own sort-of leaving do and not turn up to it?’
That was the idea. She spread her hands. ‘What’s the problem?’
Neil shook his head. ‘If it wasn’t for the fact you’re actually leaving, I’d think you’d be slaving behind your desk. You never join in with anything.’
‘Because I don’t fit in,’ she said softly. ‘So I’m not going to be the spectre at the feast. You can all enjoy a drink without worrying what to say in front of me.’
‘None of us really knows you—all we know is that you work crazy hours,’ Neil said.
Which was why nobody ever asked her about how her weekend was: they knew she would’ve spent a big chunk of Saturday at her desk.
‘Do you even have a life outside the office?’ Neil asked.
And this time there was no barb in his voice; Nicole squirmed inwardly when she realised that the odd note in his voice was pity. ‘Ask me again in six months,’ she said, ‘because then I hope I might have.’ And that was the nearest she’d get to admitting her work-life balance was all wrong.
‘Well—good luck with your mysterious business opportunity,’ he said.
‘Thanks—and I’ll make sure I leave my desk tidy for you.’
Neil took it as the dismissal she meant it to be; but, before she could clear her desk at the end of the day, her entire team filed into her office, headed by her boss.
‘We thought you should have these,’ he said, and presented her with a bottle of expensive champagne, a massive card which had been signed by everyone on their floor, and a huge bouquet of roses and lilies.
‘We didn’t really know what to get you,’ Neil said, joining them at Nicole’s desk, ‘but the team had a whip-round.’ He presented her with an envelope filled with money. ‘Maybe this will help with your, um, business opportunity.’
Nicole was touched that they’d gone to this trouble. She hadn’t expected anything—just that she’d slip away quietly while everyone else was at the bar across the road.
‘Thanks. You’ll be pleased to know it’ll go to good use—I’ll probably spend it on paint.’
Neil gaped at her. ‘You’re leaving us to be an artist?’
