He swore silently to himself. They had to talk about it, and soon.
Frowning, he looked up as his father entered his office and closed the door firmly behind him.
‘Dad? What can I do for you?’
‘It’s that girl,’ said George. ‘Your new secretary. Hazel. I want to talk about her.’
‘What’s she done now? I mean, apart from peeping through your windows.’
‘Nothing.’ George crossed his arms.
‘Then what’s the problem?’
Through the glass partition, Jonathan glanced across the office to the far end where Hazel was sitting. She was tapping a pencil against her chin – something he’d come to view as her thinking pose – then she quickly scribbled something on a yellow Post-it note and stuck it to the front of a folder. She seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing.
‘I don’t trust her,’ George continued.
Jonathan’s eyes flew back to his father. ‘Because of last night?’
‘That’s only part of it. For starters, she wasn’t the one we expected, was she?’
‘The other secretary had an accident, and the agency sent a replacement,’ Jonathan pointed out.
‘Yes, but don’t you think that was a little convenient? One girl happens to break her leg, and the agency happens to have another suitable applicant on their books?’
Jonathan smiled wearily. Ever since his father had been swindled out of his share of the research company by his unscrupulous partner, he’d been paranoid. But whenever he broached the subject, as gently as he could, George’s temper would flare up and they wouldn’t speak for days.
‘I’m sure it wasn’t so convenient for the girl who broke her leg,’ he said, with only a hint of sarcasm.
George wasn’t listening. ‘What if she’s in cahoots with that other woman, that catty blonde?’
‘Tabitha,’ Jonathan corrected him automatically. He felt uncomfortable when his father criticised anyone in his employ, even if there was a good reason. He looked at Tabitha, saw her flicking her golden hair, and pouting and posing as if she knew she was being watched. Then he looked across to pixie-haired Hazel again, whose loyalty to him had made her want to tackle, single-handedly, what she thought was a burglar. He remembered the wounded look in her soft brown eyes last night; it had shaken him to see her like that, and even more so that he’d been the cause of her anguish. She was the polar opposite to Tabitha.
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Like chalk and cheese, those two. Besides, Tabitha has never made any secret of her old job with the oil company.’
‘Uh-huh.’ George raised his eyebrows. ‘Ever asked her why she left them?’
‘She didn’t approve of the way they were doing business. In her shoes, neither would I.’
‘And you believed her? What if she’s an industrial spy? What if this Hazel person is one too? Apart from the fact that I don’t want people around when I conduct dangerous experiments in that building, I’m not having anyone steal my invention. These new bio-friendly fuels are meant to benefit the whole world, not just some unscrupulous company.’
‘You haven’t succeeded yet, Dad.’
‘That’s beside the point. And I don’t want anyone in there, trampling all my plants either. Then how will I be able to extract any oils from them? You mark my words, someone will be after my invention. How can you be sure it’s not either of them?’
‘I can’t,’ Jonathan admitted, ‘but if I go around suspecting my employees of lawlessness, imagine the kind of working environment that would create. I’m not sure about Tabitha, but I think Hazel is exactly who she says she is, and she’s a genuinely nice and trustworthy person.’ He couldn’t be wrong about that, could he?
‘How do you know?’ George insisted.
‘Dad,’ he sighed. ‘I just know.’
‘Like you ‘just knew’ last time?’
Jonathan’s face flushed, but before he could reply, George held up his hands.
‘Sorry, son, that was below the belt.’
Shaking his head, Jonathan said in a thick voice, ‘No, you were right about Arabella. I wasn’t enough for her, couldn’t live up to her lofty ideals, and that caused her to look elsewhere. Sad, but true.’
‘She was a scheming and manipulative ...’ George began, but stopped when Jonathan glared at him.
‘She was the mother of my children, and I want them to have an unsullied image of her, even if they don’t remember her.’
George glared back. ‘Fair enough. If they were my boys, I’d want to protect them too. The thing is, as you’ve noticed, they’ve taken rather a shine to young Hazel there, and if she isn’t who she says she is ...’ He trailed off.
‘Fine, I’ll keep an eye on her if that makes you feel better, but I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.’
‘You’d best let me be the judge of that,’ George replied gruffly, and left the office looking far from reassured.
Jonathan returned to his work, but couldn’t concentrate. He considered himself to be a good judge of character and a tolerant man, but his father’s suspicions of Hazel and her possible motives had struck home. What if she really was here under false pretences? In the short time she’d been at Combury Manor, she’d managed to get under his skin, mainly because he’d let her and because she was so easy to like. When she’d been lying sprawled on the ground with her foot in a crate, all he’d wanted to do was to laugh and scoop her up in his arms; she’d looked so funny and cute. Only years of self-control had held him back.
But what if there was a darker purpose? Had she guessed that he was ready to get close to a woman again, and was exploiting it?
He shook himself mentally, recalling her expression last night when he’d caught her snooping. He couldn’t help feeling that if she truly had been up to no good, she’d have acted differently, less guiltily and more inclined to explain herself. Instead, she’d been mortified – he could tell – and shame-faced. She’d make a terrible spy, he thought with a wry smile.
All the same, he intended to keep an eye on her.
How did the saying go? he thought. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. Yes, that was it.
Resolutely, he reached for his mobile phone and sent a text to Irene’s daughter, Alison. If he paid her extra on top of what he paid her for the cleaning, he could ask her to follow Hazel.
Hazel managed to get through the week without incident, developing a mechanism for deflecting Tabitha’s barbs. She concentrated on her work and spent her spare time with Irene, and occasionally Ellie, who suggested they went to the cinema one evening to see the latest Julia Roberts film. She played in the park with Seth and Ben, although she was careful to stay away from the outbuilding.
She tried to avoid Jonathan outside work, which wasn’t always possible. He and the boys would sometimes eat in the kitchen instead of in their private apartment, and although the presence of Seth and Ben made it a noisy affair, the atmosphere at dinner seemed more strained than it had been before. Jonathan’s expression was guarded whenever she met his eyes, and there was something else in them which made her feel as if she was under scrutiny.
George had returned to his usual taciturn self, although several times she had caught him studying her intently across the kitchen table when he thought she wasn’t looking. Hazel had to acknowledge that she’d failed miserably in her attempt at getting to know him better, and the realisation depressed her.
It was with relief that she took the bus into town to see Aunt Rose again the following Sunday.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Aunt Rose was asleep when Hazel got there, and the carer explained that the old lady had had a disturbed night.
‘You’re welcome to drop back later,’ said the woman, ‘although she might be too tired for visitors altogether today. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans.’
‘It’s fine. I can wander around town for a bit, then come back.’
She went back to the high
street, which was busy with Sunday shoppers and those just out for a stroll on a glorious autumn day. Spying a small park in the town centre, she decided that she’d sit on a bench with a take-away coffee and soak up some sun.
When she left the coffee shop with a scorching polystyrene cup in her hands, concentrating hard on not burning herself, she wasn’t looking where she was going and tripped over a wonky paving stone.
With an exclamation, she stumbled forward, colliding with a man coming towards her, and the contents of the cup spilled down the front of his grey tailored suit.
At first neither of them spoke, then Hazel brought a hand to her face in horror. ‘Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! Your jacket ... it’s ruined.’
The stranger looked down with some dismay, then back at Hazel. ‘I saw the sign for paint-balling, but I didn’t think it was happening in the high street.’
‘Look, I’m really, really sorry,’ Hazel said. ‘If there’s anything I can do, perhaps pay for your dry cleaning bill or something, I’d be happy to.’
The stranger tugged at his jacket. ‘Believe me, the stain is nothing compared to the scorching heat which is working its way down my trousers as we speak.’
‘But coffee ...’ Hazel began, then she laughed suddenly at the toe-curling image of hot coffee running down his trousers. ‘I apologise for burning your, eh, innards.’
‘No problem.’ The stranger grinned and stuck out his hand. ‘Lawrence.’
‘Hazel.’
His hand was soft and warm, and for the first time Hazel noticed his looks. Lawrence definitely fitted the description of tall, dark and handsome, with thick brown hair, twinkling green eyes, and broad shoulders. Her eyes widened in appreciation.
Norfolk is just teeming with good-looking men, she thought. Coming here was definitely a good idea.
‘So,’ said Lawrence, as he took the empty polystyrene cup from her and put it in a bin, ‘it seems that I’ve robbed you of your morning coffee. Please let me buy you another.’ He indicated the café Hazel had just left.
‘Oh no, there’s no need.’
‘There’s every need. Come on.’ He held up a shopping bag he was carrying. ‘Besides, I’d like to get changed.’
They returned to the café and picked a table by the window. When the waitress appeared with a menu, Lawrence ordered a cappuccino and a Danish pastry and told Hazel to get whatever she fancied, then disappeared into the Gents. He returned shortly after, looking – if possible – even more handsome in jeans and a T-shirt. Hazel found herself openly admiring him. He was drop-dead gorgeous, so who wouldn’t?
Immediately she felt disloyal to Jonathan. Attraction to another person wasn’t all about looks, was it? Jonathan had an effect on her which could make her go weak at the knees, and that wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before. At the same time, he’d never given her any indication that her feelings for him were reciprocated. And, if Tabitha really did have a claim on him, Hazel was the one who would end up getting burned.
Maintaining a distance between herself and Jonathan was the best option, however upsetting, and perhaps spending time with another handsome man would help.
‘Normally I hate going clothes shopping,’ Lawrence said, when he sat down, ‘but luckily I’d done some today.’ Then, when he noticed her embarrassment, he added, ‘But enough of that. Tell me about yourself and what you’re doing in Combury Cross.’
Lawrence was funny and charming and a good listener, and Hazel enjoyed chatting to him. He asked about her great-aunt, expressing concern over the old lady’s frailty and nodding sympathetically when she told him of her parents’ tragic accident. She told him about her job, her colleagues, and began to wax lyrical about working in such beautiful surroundings, which was a huge bonus she hadn’t reckoned with.
‘Sounds like a grand old place,’ he said. ‘I’d love to see it some time. Are parts of it open to the public?’
Hazel shook her head. ‘It’s used mainly as company premises and as a residence, although I suppose the parts that are let out might well be open.’
‘Let out?’
‘The owner lets out the old stables and outbuildings to smaller businesses.’
‘What sort of businesses?’ Lawrence bit into his Danish with a thoughtful expression. ‘It’s just that I’m looking to rent somewhere myself, for a company start-up.’
‘Well, there’s a cabinet-maker and a potter, and there’s also a printing company, which sells business cards on the internet. What line of business are you in?’
‘I run a firm of accountants,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I could come and have a look? If there are any vacancies,’ he added.
Hazel hesitated. Jonathan had given her more or less free rein when she took over the admin role at Gough Associates, and that included being in charge of the business rentals. At the same time, she felt that he’d appreciate being informed. ‘I’d have to run this by my boss first. I wouldn’t want to go behind his back.’
‘Absolutely!’ Lawrence smiled winningly. ‘Although I can’t imagine you doing anything underhand.’
Hazel grinned over her coffee cup. ‘You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not above a bit of sneaking, I’ll have you know.’
‘Might this be a case of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?’
‘Almost. It was certainly a very embarrassed cat slinking away.’ More than embarrassed, she thought. Mortified, disgraced, crushed. You name it.
‘Will it make me laugh?’
Hazel regarded him for a moment. There was a twinkle in his eye which told her that he had a sense of humour. Perhaps sharing the story and laughing about it together would banish the feelings of shame which still made her cringe inside.
She made up her mind. What harm could it do anyway? Nothing had happened except that she’d made a fool of herself. She told him the story in a few quick sentences, and Lawrence laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach.
‘I’d have loved to see that,’ he said, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. ‘You, with your foot stuck in a crate, and your scary boss towering over you and scowling like a pirate.’
Hazel felt the need to defend Jonathan. ‘He wasn’t that scary. Just ... annoyed.’
‘Maybe not, but it is funny, you’ve got to admit that.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘If it makes you feel any better, I’d have done the same if I’d seen a mysterious light in the middle of the night.’ Lawrence’s eyes shone with mirth. ‘And did you ever manage to find out just what was going on in that shed?’
Laughter was a wonderful medicine, Hazel decided, as the tension from the last few days left her body and her smile matched his. ‘No, that remains a mystery. But there’s always tomorrow.’
Grinning, Lawrence rose. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go, but it was lovely meeting over coffee. At a table, not down my front, I mean.’
‘Oh, please don’t remind me!’ Hazel groaned. ‘By the way, my offer to pay for your dry cleaning still stands.’
‘I most respectfully decline. I couldn’t let a lady pay for my bills.’ He winked and handed her his business card. ‘When you’ve had a chance to speak to your boss about a possible rental, let me know, and if the place is already let out, call me anyway.’
‘Why?’ The inane question flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks.
‘Why? Because I had fun today and I’d like to see you again, if I may. Perhaps one day we can solve your mystery at Combury Manor.’
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then he was gone, taking his laughter and good humour with him. Hazel felt as if the sun had dulled a little.
Then she pulled herself together. She hadn’t been terribly confident in herself the last few days, and naturally she was flattered that someone as charming as Lawrence had shown her – boring old Hazel – this much interest. It didn’t make her feelings for Jonathan go away, but it had been a welcome distraction.
Perhaps
she was being inconsistent, but what could she do? Jonathan was definitely off-limits.
There was one person, however, she didn’t have any ambivalent feelings about, and that was Aunt Rose. She had to get back to see if her aunt was awake, but it made sense to collect her coat while she was still in the town centre.
It was a shock when the dry cleaner informed her that someone had already collected it.
‘But ...’ Hazel began, then stopped and realised she’d just asked for a red coat without handing over the ticket stub. ‘Wait a minute,’ she muttered. She rooted around in her handbag for a few minutes, checking every nook and cranny, but it wasn’t there. She turned to the assistant again. ‘Did the person collecting it give you the ticket?’
‘Of course,’ the girl replied, looking concerned now. ‘Is something wrong?’
Hazel was beginning to wonder that herself, but if there was, it wasn’t the dry cleaner’s fault so she just shook her head. ‘No, everything’s fine. Thank you.’
Deep in thought, she left the shop. What sort of person stole someone else’s old clothes? It made no sense.
Jonathan was in his office when Alison reported back to him on Sunday afternoon. From her expression he knew immediately that he shouldn’t have asked her to follow Hazel, but after what his father had said, he felt he had no choice. Now he hoped that Alison had nothing particular to tell him.
He was wrong.
His concern deepened when Alison mentioned that Hazel had been drinking coffee with an unknown man in town. She explained how she’d set Hazel down at the usual bus stop and then driven on to meet a colleague who would take over the route for a couple of hours, safe in the knowledge that Hazel would be with her aunt for a while. So she’d been surprised when she spied Hazel through the window of a café when she should have been at the nursing home.
‘And they seemed to be on friendly terms, you say?’ he asked her, trying very hard to quell the jealous note which crept into his voice.
Blueprint for Love (Choc Lit) Page 6