Читать книгу Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 15

Chapter Six

I sat on the train and gazed out of the window, watching the lights of the city grow closer. We pulled into the terminus and I stepped back out into the noise of the London station. I’d changed before leaving the rescue centre and now headed towards the Underground, bound for Covent Garden. I’d already got presents for Bernice, Mark and Janey and her family. They were really the only people I had to buy for, but I’d decided that perhaps a few little bits from Neal’s Yard might be nice to go with the experience vouchers I’d already got for the girls. And maybe something else, if it caught my eye.

Having spent over half an hour perusing all the goodies on offer, sniffing various pots and potions and making up two baskets worth of organic treats, I left the shop and wandered out into the alley that the company took its name from. I loved the colourfully painted walls and the bare brick facades with their bright window frames. Decorated for the season, it looked even more enticing and cosy than ever. White fairy lights entwined around a pair of doorway olive trees and a softly twinkling Christmas tree cast a soft glow in a shopfront window. I smiled at a couple apparently exploring the area for the first time, and the delight on their faces as they shared the experience, taking selfies galore. Moving on, I headed to the main part of the old marketplace, now decked out in all its Christmas finery. The huge tree shone bright and a street entertainer was making the crowd laugh with corny jokes as he proceeded with some sleight of hand. I watched for a few moments before heading inside to the old Apple Market, now filled with little boutiques. This year’s decoration theme was gold and silver and the decorations spanned the width of the roof. Giant bell-shaped lights ran down the centre with smaller versions fanning out to the edge.

Window shopping passed another half an hour until I found a little café and ensconced myself at a table. Nearby a string quartet were busking, the live music adding to the atmosphere as people stopped to watch and listen. My gaze drifted to the passing crowds and the others at the tables surrounding me; couples opening bags and pulling presents from them to show the other their purchase, families laughing and, occasionally, squabbling after a long day as everyone became tired. I loved this time of year – the lights, the decorations, the music. It made me happy. For the most part. Although my formative Christmas experiences might have put me off for life, I’d held on determinedly to the joy that the season was supposed to bring, and hoped that, one day, I’d find it.

I had to admit that it wasn’t always the easiest of tasks and just occasionally I floundered. A couple of years had seen me grab a last-minute break abroad to some sun-soaked spot instead, where I’d do nothing but read and sip drinks from glasses decorated with so much fruit I could get my five a day from one cocktail. The peace of the places I chose for those holidays helped shift the focus of the past, helped me not to think about the possibility that I might never actually get that perfect Christmas. That it was all just a mirage I’d created in my head. Perhaps nobody really got it. But that didn’t stop me wanting it. Deep down in my soul, away from the rational, organised me, the dreamer that I kept locked away still wanted it.

And this year there was a glimmer of hope. My normal levels of enthusiasm for the season had been heightened by Calum almost promising that we would definitely spend a few days together over the break. It would be the first time since we’d started dating that we’d be together for more than a few hours or one night. For once, it would actually feel like we were a couple.

I pulled out my phone and selected him from my contacts. It rang a couple of times before he picked up.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi babe. How are you?’ he asked.

‘OK thanks. I’m just at Covent Garden, having a mooch around. I was just wondering if you might want to come and join me? We could – ’

‘Babe I’d love to.’

My smile widened. I told myself off for prejudging him, having expected him to almost certainly say no.

‘But I’m kind of tied up with something at the moment. Maybe later?’

My hopes deflated. I’d discovered a while ago that when Calum said ‘maybe later’ it was generally code for ‘not a chance’.

‘OK,’ I said, unwilling to get into an argument about it right now. And who knew? Maybe this time he would surprise me.

‘How long will you be there?’

‘I’m not sure. I hadn’t really decided.’

‘Well, tell you what. I’ll send you a text when I’m on my way. In the meantime, you just get on and do what you need to.’

‘Sure. Sounds like a plan.’

In all likelihood a plan for him not to turn up, but a plan all the same.

‘OK babe. Gotta go. I’ll see you later, hopefully.’

‘See you later.’

I placed the phone on the table so that I would hear it if and when Calum texted. As I did so the waiter approached, holding a menu. I’d originally only planned to have a hot chocolate and maybe a slice of cake, but suddenly I wanted to extend the warm feeling of being wrapped up in Christmas. I took the menu and chose a meal and a glass of wine. Eating alone had never bothered me - It certainly wasn’t a new experience. The waiter returned a few minutes later with my drink. I sat watching the Christmas world go by and sipped my wine.

Over an hour later, having soaked up the atmosphere, eaten and paid, I gathered my bags and shopping and picked up my phone from the table. There was no text from Calum.

***

‘Oh she was so happy!’ Bernice enthused as I put the drink down on her desk. ‘She couldn’t believe that just organising her home would make such an impact on her life. It’s incredible the difference in her. She’s so much more pulled together now and we rediscovered all these beautiful clothes that she hadn’t worn for years and she’s started wearing them again. There’s just this air of confidence and happiness about her now. It’s wonderful! So different from the woman I met on the first consultation. Aren’t these just gorgeous?’ Bernice finished arranging the blooms that her client had sent her back with and looked around for a suitable place to put the vase. Not the easiest of tasks. The office wasn’t large and I had to admit I may have gone a tad overboard with the Christmas decorations, so that it now had the distinct appearance of an elves’ grotto rather than an office. But hey, it was only once a year and it was my office, and Bernice was all for it. On top of that, it made us happy, which trumped everything. Bernice shuffled a stuffed snowman to the side to make room for the flowers and stood back to admire them.

‘They’re lovely Bernice. I’m so glad she was happy. And you obviously did a stellar job, as usual. Well done.’

Bernice smiled. ‘Thanks.’

The week had been pretty crammed for both of us and we were exhausted from running about, trying to make sure all of our clients were happy and on top of things. One had rung in a panic, advising they had had a ‘relapse’ so we’d juggled diaries and I fitted them in to mine, scooting over early this morning to see what calamity had occurred. In the end, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I’d feared. The client had just had a bit of a wobble with the thought of various visitors coming to descend on her over the holidays, and had suddenly felt a little overwhelmed. But within a few hours, we’d tackled the problem and the client was back in control and ready for her seasonal visitors.

Michael O’Farrell was next on my list and I was a little surprised that I was almost looking forward to the appointment. I was pretty sure that this feeling was down to the fact that, as we cleared out the space, the real character and beauty of the house was becoming easier to see and appreciate. It really was the most beautiful house. I only hoped that he appreciated it as much I did. Indeed, more so, since he lived there. However, as he kept his thoughts about anything remotely personal to himself, he could be either completely oblivious or entirely ecstatic and I’d still be none the wiser. I finished my drink and hooked my bag over my shoulder.

‘Off to see the delectable Mr O’Farrell?’ Bernice asked, grinning.

‘Does your fiancé know you’re referring to clients as “delectable”?’

She laughed. ‘I said he was delectable. But he’s still not as delectable as my Rufus.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ I smiled. ‘Have a good day and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Have fun!’ Bernice waved and I pulled the office door closed behind me.

***

Michael was on the phone when he answered the door to me. He gave a brief smile and gestured me inside as he continued the conversation. Work stuff, by the sound of it.

‘Can you hang on a minute Bob?’ Michael pulled the phone away and pressed mute. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how long I’m going to be on here.’

‘It’s fine. We’d planned on tackling your books today. That’s a favourite bit of mine anyway so I can just get going on that if you don’t mind me starting without you.’

‘Not at all. But I know the deal was for me to take part in the process. A fact that you were insistent on making crystal clear on your first visit.’ His mouth was serious but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes.

‘It was and you are. But there’s got to be flexibility built in to the process. Carry on with your call. It sounds important. I’ll see you when you’re ready.’

‘Thanks Kate. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

I nodded and turned to hang up my coat as Michael resumed his conversation, then headed across the hallway before casting a sneaky glance back. I saw him run a hand through his hair, still desperately in need of a tidy up. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin had a pallor to it that didn’t exactly scream healthy. I might just mention it, in passing, to Janey the next time I saw her, just so that she could check he was OK. I knew she’d want to know.

Turning away, I walked into the dining room where Michael had decided that he’d like to keep all his books. I stood for a few moments and couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful, white painted bookcases that now lined one wall of the room. Glancing back, I noticed Michael had now followed me into the room. He raised his eyebrows at me, almost in question, as he continued his phone call. In return, I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger, signalling that I thought the new addition to the room was absolutely perfect. He gave a rare, beautiful smile and the green eyes crinkled at the edges before he turned away and took the phone call out of my hearing.

It was over forty minutes later when Michael hurried back into the dining room and found me kneeling on the floor, surrounded by piles of books.

‘I’m really sorry about that.’ He looked around, his brow creasing. ‘Maybe I should disappear more often. You seem to be even more speedy when I’m not here.’

I sat back on my heels. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Worth a try.’

‘Are you finished or do you need to get on with some work stuff? It’s OK. I can get these organised myself and we’ll just schedule another appointment when it’s more convenient to do the bits we need to do together. I think we’re making good progress, so it would be fine to do that.’

‘No, I’m done for today.’ He flopped down onto the floor beside me. ‘In more ways than one.’

I looked down at him sprawled on the carpet, his head to one side. He looked more than capable of going to sleep right there with very little encouragement. Perhaps a little break would be a good thing. In truth, I was actually a little worried about him. Just because we hadn’t exactly started out the best of friends didn’t mean that I was completely oblivious to his current state.

‘Long morning?’ I enquired.

He rolled his head onto his bicep so that he was looking at me. ‘Long afternoon, evening, night and morning.’

I frowned. ‘You worked all through the night?’

‘Last-minute crisis. And then they wanted a meeting about it at 9 a.m. I’ve had a four-hour round trip this morning.’

‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’

He gave a gentle laugh as, with some effort, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. ‘I thought about it. And then I thought how well me ringing you and saying, “Hi Kate. Do you think we could we postpone our appointment today? I’m a little tired,” would go down.’

‘You make me sound horribly unreasonable.’ I’d learned years ago not to care too much about what people thought of me. So why did it bother me what Michael O’Farrell thought now?

He gave me a look. ‘I messed about with your schedule once before and it didn’t go well.’

I sat straighter. ‘That was completely different and you know it. For one thing, you’ve apologised this time.’

‘I’m sure I apologised that first night too. Eventually.’

‘No. You didn’t.’

He shook his head. ‘I must have. In a roundabout way. Maybe you missed it.’

I gave a prod to move him off a book his legs were lounging over. ‘I didn’t miss anything, thank you very much. You didn’t apologise at all. In any form, roundabout or otherwise.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ I confirmed.

Michael raised his eyebrows in thought. ‘Right. Then I guess you were absolutely right to call me what you did.’

‘You’ve only just realised that?’

He let out a laugh that for a moment disguised the weariness of his face. ‘I guess I walked into that one.’

I smiled and continued working. Feeling Michael’s eyes on me, I spoke without turning my head.

‘Feel free to help.’

He knew by my tone I was joking. Mostly. I was acutely aware of the deadline on this job and although it had all been progressing fairly well in the last couple of weeks, I’d been caught out in the past by someone suddenly producing a hidden mountain of items from their loft/garage/Great Aunt Maude, with the casual declaration that they had ‘just a few more things’. I was desperately hoping that wasn’t going to be the case here and, when I’d enquired as to whether there was anything lurking elsewhere, Michael had confirmed that everything I’d seen was everything he owned. I didn’t think he’d be purposely hiding anything but, as he had the occasional tendency to seem distracted, I wasn’t ruling it out one hundred percent.

‘Right. Yes. Of course. So, what exactly are we doing here?’

Having explained how I was categorising his books by subject for non-fiction and by genre for fiction, I asked him to go through them, putting aside any that he no longer wanted. Those could then be donated to a library or charity shop, or if he preferred, he could sell them online. Michael had immediately opted for the charity shop, mentioning that he always took his stuff to one in particular.

‘What?’ he asked.

I looked up, confused. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

I sat back on my heels again. ‘What are you on about?’

‘When I said I always take my stuff to a particular charity shop you pulled a face.’

‘I most certainly did not.’

‘I hate to disagree – ’

‘I doubt that,’ I mumbled.

He shook his head. ‘Don’t you approve of charity shops?’

‘Of course I do!’

‘So what’s with the face?’

I blew out a sigh. ‘I did not pull a face – ’

‘Yeah. You did.’

I fixed him with a look. ‘If I did, then it was merely an expression of surprise.’

‘Surprise that I would donate anything? Thanks. I know I’m not exactly your favourite person but that’s a bit harsh, even from you.’

‘Of course that’s not what I meant. It’s just that…’

‘Go on.’

I really needed to look into courses that would teach me how not to show everything I was thinking. Although, oddly, Michael O’Farrell was the first person to have ever picked me up on this.

Glancing over, I saw that he was waiting for an answer, his intense green gaze unreadable. Unlike me, apparently.

‘Fine. I was just a little surprised that you donated anything.’

He opened his mouth to speak but I got there before him.

‘Not because I don’t think you would, but it’s just…well, it doesn’t look like anything has left this house in quite some time, barring you.’

He watched me for a moment or two longer before turning away and beginning to methodically go through the books in the pile in front of him.

‘I was referring to…before.’ His voice was flat and I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him. If I was honest, there was a lot about this client that I wasn’t sure about, and right now it was why I was feeling so awful about the fact that I might have hurt his feelings. ‘And you’re right. I haven’t taken anything there in ages. I really don’t know how I let things go quite so much.’ The last sentence was quieter, almost as if it were to himself. But I’d seen this so many times before. I wanted to let him know that it wasn’t unusual. That it wasn’t some sort of failure on his part.

‘It’s pretty common actually,’ I began, ‘when there’s been some sort of major event, as there has been in your life. It’s perfectly natural to – ’

‘Kate,’ he turned to me, ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I’d appreciate it even more if you didn’t do the psychobabble thing on me.’

‘I wasn’t. All I’m trying to – ’

The mobile on the floor next to Michael began to ring loudly, interrupting me.

‘Michael O’Farrell,’ he answered, looking away.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself it was just a few more weeks.

‘I’ve already sent all those details.’

Sat close to me as he was, it was hard not to overhear the conversation. And hard to not notice that it was clearly not one Michael was enjoying. His jaw was so tense I was surprised he could even speak.

‘No. That’s not what they said, and not what they asked for…’ He paused, listening. ‘I realise that but…no, it’s fine. I can do it now and email it over. OK. Yep. You’ll have it shortly.’

He hung up and looked at me, running a hand across the back of his neck.

‘It’s OK,’ I said, before he had a chance to say anything, ‘Go and do what you need to do.’

‘I’m beginning to think this client is more trouble than they’re worth,’ he said, as he stood. ‘Ever have any like that?’ He sounded shattered but I heard the attempt at truce.

‘Now and again,’ I replied, not looking up.

‘So, what do you do about them?’

‘Oh, just try and get the job done as quickly as possible, generally.’

‘Sounds like a sensible plan. Although it’s unlikely to be anything else with you.’

I looked up but he already had his hands up. ‘That came out like an insult when it was meant to be a compliment. I just meant that you have your head screwed on right.’ He ran his hand over his face, the tiredness making deep shadows under his eyes. ‘You’re right. I really do need to work on my compliments.’

‘I’m not here for compliments Michael. Don’t worry about it.’

He nodded. ‘Fair enough. I shouldn’t be long on this.’

‘OK.’

He turned and left the room. Moments later I heard the slight squeak from the hinge of his office door as he pushed it to.

Two hours later and Michael still hadn’t reappeared. I’d long since finished sorting his books and had given up waiting. Fetching the cleaning supplies, I’d made sure all the new shelving was free of dust, done the same with the books, then begun putting them on the shelves. The top shelf was higher than I could reach and I’d cast a glance at a dining room chair before remembering the promise I’d made to my client about not climbing on such items. It’d be just my luck that if I was going to fall for the first time ever, it would be here, immediately giving him the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’, which frankly, would be unbearable. I recalled seeing a small stepladder in the utility room so, grabbing that, I began filling the shelves.

It was long since dark when I finished and the house was oddly silent. I packed the books Michael had pulled out for donation into a box and put it by the door. Glancing back, I smiled as I looked at the room. There was still a little bit of work to do in here but its transformation so far was amazing. From a bland, empty room, it was now showing its owner’s personality, which is what a home should do. Although, admittedly, that was usually easier when you understood that personality in the first place.

And now what to do? Did I just leave? Did I call out to him? What if he was in the middle of something? I didn’t want to interrupt. But if I did just leave, then would he feel that I was being rude? Ugh. I put a hand on the banister, enjoying the smooth feel of the oak under my hand as I pondered my decision. If I just peeked my head in to his office and waved on the way out I felt that covered me for not just leaving but wasn’t a big disturbance either - a good compromise.

I reached the door to Michael’s office, which was ajar, and tapped lightly on it. When no answer came, I tried again, but there was still nothing. I glanced around but no light filtered from any of the other rooms so I could only assume he was still in this one, especially as he’d said he’d return to help me once he finished.

Pushing the door open a little more, I peered around it. I was happy to see that the room was still as tidy as we had made it during the first session. I looked over to the desk. The lamp stood on it cast a pool of illumination and within that pool was Michael. His head rested on one arm with the other out to the side, his hand splayed across a laptop, his breathing steady.

I hesitated where I was for a moment. I should probably just leave now. He couldn’t get snarky at me for leaving without saying goodbye if he was asleep. Perhaps I could leave a note? I looked around. A sticky notepad sat on the side of his easel so I scribbled a note and stuck it on the door.

Right. I should go then. Now, probably.

My gaze drifted back to the sleeping form. The lamplight cast long shadows from his eyelashes onto his cheek and the overlong designer stubble. His breathing was even and deep, the sleep obviously much needed after working thirty-six hours straight. I really should just leave. Why was I even still here? I made to turn and froze as Michael stirred. Cautiously I turned my head but he’d barely moved, clearly exhausted.

Oh for goodness’ sake, Kate. Just do what you need to do so that you can get out of here.

I kicked myself into gear and moved quietly to the sofa in the corner. Lifting the cashmere blanket off of it, I popped it over my shoulder for a moment. I returned to the desk and, as gently as possible, lifted Michael’s arm from where it was resting on his laptop. He didn’t stir at all as I laid it back down and pushed his computer back on the desk so that he wouldn’t knock it off if he woke suddenly. Draping the blanket over him, I then leaned across and switched off his lamp. Moonlight mixed with the streetlight filtering in allowed me to see my way.

Pulling the door closed quietly to keep the warmth in, I read the note I’d stuck on it over once more, just to check: Have put the items you wanted donated in the box by the door. All others are currently on the shelves. They are in fairly obvious categories at the moment but these can always be changed, if required – Kate.

Crossing the hall, I picked up my coat and accompanying items, bundling myself up, ready for the onslaught of bitter wind that had been hurtling around the city all day. Before leaving I switched on the table lamp that balanced amongst the junk on the hall table and turned off the main one, giving a little light to the area and making it seem less like the house was empty. Plus, even amongst the mess that we were yet to tackle, it made things seem a little more homely. With one last glance at the closed study door, I opened the front door and stepped out.