I freeze under the water, my hands sitting idly in the mass of bubbles on my head. ‘Don’t be stupid.’ I try to sound shocked, but all I achieve is a quiet, thoughtful rush of breath. I’m not sure what my feelings are because they’re all over the place at the moment. And they shouldn’t be, especially with the knowledge of another woman. I’m not in love with him, though. I’m intrigued by him, that’s all. He’s fascinating to me.
I wait for Nan’s comeback as my body remains still and my mind contemplates what she might say next. It’s a long time, but I eventually hear the distant creaking of floorboards. She’s gone, and she didn’t challenge my unconvincing reply to her final question, which is extremely unusual.
Gregory is making up for Nan’s mild interrogation. He’s humoured me for a few hours, riding the open-top, hop-on-hop-off tour bus and listening to me remind him of why I love London so much, but when I’m guided to the outside seating area of a cafe off Oxford Street, I know my time evading him has passed. ‘Coffee or water?’ he asks as the waiter approaches, giving me his roving eye.
‘Water.’ I ignore the waiter and commence a nervous fiddle of the napkin, folding it neatly too many times, until it’s no longer foldable.
My friend is looking at the waiter the same way the waiter is looking at me, all bug-eyed and smiley. ‘Water and an espresso, please, kind sir.’
I grin at Gregory, making it a continuous triangle of smiles as the waiter writes down our order and backs away, missing the lady on the next table who’s waving for his attention. It’s overcast but muggy, and my tight jeans are sticking to my thighs.
‘So,’ Gregory begins, taking the napkin from my hand, leaving me fiddling with my ring instead. ‘He promised twenty-four hours and you only got eight.’ He dives right in, no holding back.
I pout, and I hate myself for it. ‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’ I sigh. A few hours being distracted by the grandness of my beloved London did a wonderful job of temporarily washing him from my mind. That’s the problem, though; it’s just temporary.
‘What cut it short?’
‘He had to nip out.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’ I refuse to look at Gregory, like a lack of eye contact might make telling him the truth easier. It must be working because I go on, keen to get his thoughts. ‘I woke up at three this morning and he was gone. He left a pillow note telling me he’d be back, then he called but wouldn’t say where he was, only that it was business. I got a little annoyed and so did he.’
‘What was he annoyed about?’
‘Because I said I was leaving and it’s ill-mannered to break a deal.’ I chance a look at Gregory, finding his brown eyes wide. ‘We didn’t actually shake on it,’ I finish, not adding the fact that according to Miller we f**ked on it.
‘He sounds like a knob,’ he declares spitefully. ‘An arrogant knob!’
‘He’s not,’ I argue quickly. ‘Well, he can come across a little like that, but not when he had me in his arms. He really did worship me. He said he was going to f**k me, but he . . .
‘What?’ Gregory screeches, leaning forward. ‘He actually said that to you?’
I sink back in my chair, thinking I should’ve kept that part to myself. I don’t want my friend to hate Miller, even if I do a little myself. ‘Yes, but he didn’t follow through on it. He showed me nothing but respect and . . .’ I pause, stopping myself from saying such a stupid word in these circumstances.
‘What?’
I shake my head. ‘He was a gentleman.’
Our drinks arrive and I immediately pour my water into my glass and take a long swig while I’m ogled by the smiling waiter and Gregory ogles him. ‘Thank you.’ My friend beams at the waiter, making his interest known, despite the waiter’s obvious sexual preference.
‘You’re welcome. Enjoy,’ the waiter says, keeping his eyes on me before he finally takes care of the woman who is again waving for his attention.
Gregory’s smiling face soon alters to a scowl when his eyes land back on me. ‘Livy, you’ve already said that you saw him with a woman. I know just as well as you do that she’s probably no business associate. He sounds nothing like a gentleman.’
‘I know,’ I mumble sullenly, the reminder stabbing at my falling heart. That woman is beautiful, elegant and undoubtedly as cultured and wealthy as Miller. That’s his world – posh women, posh hotels, posh events, posh clothes, posh food and drink. Mine is serving that posh food and drink to those posh people. I need to forget about him. I need to remind myself how aggravated he makes me. I need to remind myself that it was meaningless sex. ‘I won’t be seeing him again.’ I sigh. It wasn’t meaningless sex to me.
‘I’m glad.’ Gregory smiles and takes a sip of his espresso. ‘You deserve the whole package, not just the scraps a man’s prepared to throw when he feels like it.’ He reaches over and gives my hand a comforting squeeze. ‘I think you know he’s no good for you.’
I smile, knowing my best friend is talking complete sense. ‘I do.’
Gregory nods and winks, sitting back in his chair, just as my phone starts ringing from my bag. I grab my satchel from the chair next to me and start rummaging through.
‘That’ll be Nan,’ I moan. ‘She’s driving me loopy.’
Gregory laughs, prompting a snigger from me, too, but I soon halt my happy tittering when I note the caller’s not Nan. My wide eyes fly to Gregory’s.
He soon stops laughing, too. ‘Is it him?’
I nod, glancing back down to the screen, my thumb hovering over the button that’ll connect me to Miller. ‘I’ve not returned his call.’
‘Be wise, baby girl.’
Be wise. Be wise. Be wise. I take a deep breath and answer. ‘Hello.’
‘Olivia?’
‘Miller,’ I counter coldly and calmly, despite my speeding heart rate. The slow, rounded pronunciation of my name spikes a vivid image of his slow-moving lips.
‘We need to pick up where we left off. I have an engagement to keep this evening, but I’ll keep tomorrow free.’ He sounds formal and short, making my heart race that little bit more, but more out of irritation than desire. What am I, a business transaction?
‘No, thank you.’
‘It wasn’t a question, Livy. I’m telling you that you’ll be spending the day with me tomorrow.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid I have plans.’ I sound hesitant when I was aiming for sureness. I’m aware that Gregory is watching and listening intently, and I’m glad because I’m certain that if he wasn’t here to monitor the conversation, then I’d be agreeing. Hearing his smooth voice, even though there’s no element of friendliness to it, is bringing back all of the feelings that came before the anger of being abandoned.
‘Cancel them.’
‘I can’t.’
‘For me, you can.’
‘No, I can’t.’ I hang up before I cave and quickly turn my phone off. ‘Done,’ I declare, shoving it in my bag.
‘Good girl. You know it makes sense.’ Gregory smiles across the table at me. ‘Drink up and I’ll walk you home.’
We say goodbye on the corner, Gregory heading off to get ready for a night out, me to go and hide in my bedroom from my prying grandmother. As I’m inserting my key quietly into the lock, the door swings open and two pairs of old eyes look at me with interest – Nan trying to read me, George peering over her shoulder with a mild grin on his face. I can only imagine what’s gone down in this house since I left this morning and George arrived. He’ll do anything for Nan, including listening to her harp on about her boring, withdrawn granddaughter. Except this time I’m not boring. And George’s delight at this news is written all over his round face.
‘Your phone’s off,’ Nan fires accusingly. ‘Why?’
My arms drop to my sides on an over-the-top sigh before I push my way past them, heading toward the kitchen. ‘The battery died.’
Her scoff indicates her thoughts on that lie as she tracks me. ‘Your boss stopped by.’
I swing around, horrified, finding straight lips and George still grinning over her shoulder. ‘My boss?’ I ask tentatively, my damn heart pounding against my chest.
‘Yes, your real boss.’ She watches for my reaction and she won’t be disappointed. I’m trying my hardest not to, but I’m blushing furiously and my body has completely sagged. ‘Nice cockney man.’
‘What did he want?’ I breathe, gathering myself together.
‘He’s been trying to call you.’ She fills the kettle and signals for George to sit, which he does without delay, still grinning at me. ‘Something about a charity gala this evening.’
‘He wants me to work?’ I ask hopefully, retrieving my phone and quickly turning it on.
‘Yes.’ She continues with tea-making duties, her back to me. ‘I did point out that it might be too much after your long shift yesterday evening.’
I’m scowling hard at her back, and I know George’s grin has just widened. ‘Give it a rest, Nan,’ I warn, stabbing at the buttons of my phone. She doesn’t turn around and she doesn’t answer. She’s made her point, as have I.
Putting my phone to my ear, I take the stairs to escape to the sanctuary of my room. Del needs me to waitress this evening and I accept eagerly, before I’m told where to be and when. I’ll do anything to distract myself.
Pushing my way through the staff entrance of the hotel, I’m immediately greeted by a pacing Sylvie. She’s on me like a wolf, like I knew she would be. ‘Tell me everything!’
I walk past her, heading for the kitchen. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’ I brush her off, reluctant to confirm that she was right. I take my apron from a smiling Del and start putting it on. ‘Thank you.’
He hands one to Sylvie, too, who snatches it and doesn’t thank our boss. ‘So you told him where to go?’
‘Yes,’ I say very convincingly, probably because it’s part truth. I have, in effect, told him where to go. I start loading my round silver tray with glasses. ‘So you can quit with the nagging because there’s nothing to nag me about.’
‘Oh,’ she says placidly, starting to help me. ‘Well, I’m glad. He’s an arrogant bastard.’
I neither deny nor confirm it, instead opting to change the subject completely. I’m supposed to be busying my wandering mind, not feeding it. ‘Did you go out last night?’
‘Yes, and I still feel like crap,’ she admits, pouring the champagne. ‘My body has craved junk food all day, and I necked something close to two litres of fat Coke.’
‘That bad?’
‘Horrendous. I’m not drinking again . . . until next week.’
I laugh. ‘What makes you bad . . .’
‘Don’t! The smell of this is turning my stomach.’ She gags and holds her nose as she continues to fill the flutes. It’s only now that I take a good look at her, noticing her usually shiny black bob looks a little dull, as do her usually rosy cheeks. ‘I know. I look like shit.’
I return to the tray. ‘You really do,’ I admit.
‘And I feel worse than I look.’
Del appears, looking his usual happy self. ‘Girls, we have members of parliament in tonight and a few diplomats. I know I don’t have to tell you, but remember your manners.’ He looks at Sylvie when he speaks, frowning. ‘You really do look like crap.’
‘Yes, yes, I know. Don’t worry. I won’t breathe on them,’ she quips, breathing onto her palm and smelling. I grimace, watching her face screw up in disgust before she rootles through her pocket and shoves a Polo mint in her mouth.
