by Tara Bond
“That’s more like it,” he said. “I knew there was a smile in there somewhere.”
It was only now that I’d calmed down that I finally realised he just had on boxer shorts and a T-shirt. It was the first time I’d been so close to a half-clothed member of the opposite sex. In my thin white cotton nightdress, I wasn’t much more covered up. I felt my cheeks heating up.
“Well . . . I should be going back upstairs,” I said, to cover my embarrassment.
“Let me just get some water, and then I’ll help you—”
“Oh, no,” I started protesting, as he poured himself a glass. “I’ll be fine on my own. If I could get down all right, then I can get back up again, too . . .”
While I was still rambling on, he’d finished drinking the water down, and was over by my side. He didn’t bother to argue back with me—instead, before I knew what he was doing, he scooped me up in his arms, as though I weighed nothing.
“Put me down!” I squealed. “I’m too heavy.”
“You’re fine,” he said. “As long as you stop squirming.”
He gave me no more chance to argue, and instead started up the stairs. My arms instinctively snaked around his neck, and I rested my head against his chest, secretly thrilled to be treated in such a romantic way.
Outside my bedroom door, he lowered me gently to the ground.
“Thank you for that,” I managed to whisper, still feeling overwhelmed.
He tweaked my nose. “That’s quite all right . . . Mouse. See you tomorrow.”
I watched as he sauntered down the hall, and disappeared into his room. Once I was back in bed, I hugged the event to myself. As much as I told myself that Toby was my sister’s boyfriend, I couldn’t deny that there was something between us. And I was sure he felt it, too.
* * *
The next morning, the whole family gathered in the dining room for breakfast. My mother was back to her usual self, totally composed. I kept sneaking glances at Toby, unable to forget the previous night.
“We ran into Sebastian yesterday, Kate,” my mother was saying. “You know—the Mortimers’ boy. He was asking after you. We had to break his heart, and tell him you were bringing someone out with you this year.
“And not just him, Jean-Luc, too.” My mum turned to Toby. “His family live in Paris, but they have a place down here. We’re here at the same time as them every year. The children all played together when they were young, but once they got into their teens, the boys were more interested in running after Kate. I think Seb and Jean actually came to blows one year, didn’t they?”
“Oh, Mummy.” Kate blushed modestly. “Don’t be so ridiculous.”
In fact, what my mother was saying was perfectly true. Once adolescence had set in, and my sister had discovered bikinis, all the boys had gone crazy for her.
Toby turned to me, smiling. “And what about you, Charlotte? Have you been out at any wild parties this year, chatting up the local French boys?” He winked at me, and I blushed. My dad gave a snort of disapproval—however liberal he was, what father ever likes to think of his daughter with the opposite sex?—while I saw my sister bite back a smile, no doubt at the sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion. I knew she didn’t mean anything by it. Kate wouldn’t ever be deliberately cruel—but still . . . it didn’t do much for my ego.
“Charlotte isn’t one for parties, are you, darling?” my mother said. My body tensed. “She’s never been much of a mixer. You prefer your own company, don’t you?”
She graced me with a warm, indulgent smile, sending my blood pressure sky high. I could feel the vein in my forehead begin to beat like a pulse.
I was trying to conjure up an appropriate answer, when Toby jumped in. “I’m sure she’s just too good for them,” he said smoothly.
I flashed him a grateful smile.
Thankfully the talk turned from me, and towards how everyone planned to spend the day. My family always liked active holidays, and they’d arranged to go white-water rafting. I’d been looking forward to it, but there was no way I could go with my ankle like this.
“So what’s the plan?” my sister asked. “Are we still going rafting?”
“It’s booked, but Charlotte won’t be able to come. Not with her foot like that.” My dad looked at me sympathetically. “I tried to change the date, but they’re all booked up for the next ten days. It’s today or wait until next year, I’m afraid.”
I felt a pang of disappointment. “You lot go without me. I’ll be fine here on my own. I wasn’t that bothered about going anyway,” I lied.
My parents looked between each other. “It feels a bit miserable leaving you here alone,” my father said. “One of us should stay to entertain you.”
“But who?” my mother said, looking between my father and sister.
“I’ll stay,” Toby said suddenly.
We all turned to him.
Kate covered his hand with her own. “You don’t have to miss out because of Charlotte.”
“I’m really not bothered. I’ve been loads of times before. And anyway, I won’t be missing out.” He looked over at me and grinned. “Charlotte and I will have a great time, won’t we?”
And just like that, the decision was made. Within half an hour, my parents and sister had gone for the day, and I was left alone with Toby.
I looked at him shyly. “What do you feel like doing?”
“Well, what were you planning on doing if you’d been left here alone?” I hesitated, reluctant to tell him. “Go on. Just tell me. It can’t be that bad.”
“I bought the box set of Dexter. I was planning to work my way through the entire first season.”
After I said it, I could have kicked myself. My sister and Toby weren’t the kind of people to sit round watching TV. They were active people, who believed in socialising and sport, not sitting in front of a television screen. I’d just confirmed myself as the biggest geek. I don’t know what kind of reaction I’d expected from him. He was nothing if not polite, so I knew he wouldn’t ridicule me—but I’d expected him to perhaps look a little surprised, and then maybe make some polite excuse to go off on his own. But instead his eyes widened a little.
“Are you kidding me?” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve been dying to watch Dexter for ages.”
“You have? Then why haven’t you?” For me, it was impossible at boarding school, especially with A levels to study for. But I imagined he’d have a lot more freedom to do whatever he wanted.
He pulled a face. “Put it this way—it’s not really your sister’s thing. I think her exact words were, ‘Why would I want to watch something involving a serial killer?’ ”
I laughed at this. My family were far more focused on fact than fiction. “That sounds like Kate.”
He grinned. “Just don’t tell her I said so, all right?”
“I promise.”
We grinned at each other, bonded by our conspiracy.
I went to sit on the couch.
Toby pulled the blinds against the already blazing sun. “That makes it feel more like night time, doesn’t it?”
Although it was warm outside, my mother always kept the air conditioning in the villa at a very cool sixty-four degrees. That meant we were always freezing. A blanket lay on the nearby couch. Toby picked it up and brought it over with him. Before I knew what he was doing, he’d sat down next to me, and shaken the blanket out, spreading it, so that it was covering both of us.
I stiffened, feeling somewhat odd about the idea of us both being under the same blanket. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like we shouldn’t be doing it. Toby must have sensed my concerns, because he glanced over at me.
“Is that all right? I can move if you want.”
I hesitated for a second, and then felt stupid for making such a big deal about nothing. “No. It’s fine.”
We’d just started on the second episode, when behind us, the door opened. We jumped and looked round. It was our housekeeper, Sophia.
“Oh, nothing. We’re just watching a programme.”
She gave us a disapproving look and then disappeared into the hallway, grumbling beneath her breath.
“What’s her problem?” I said.
“No idea.”
Toby put his arm around me, and I snuggled up into him. But even though I was enjoying myself, something was niggling at me—a sense that this wasn’t quite right. For some reason it felt like a betrayal of my sister. But then that was stupid. Nothing was going on between us. Maybe I had a little crush on Toby, but that’s all it was. There was no way he was ever going to feel anything for me. I should just enjoy the novelty of having a good-looking guy spend time around me. There was no harm in that, right?
* * *
“So you developed a crush on Toby that summer?” Dr. Milton said, once I’d finished.
“I suppose,” I admitted reluctantly. Then she fixed me with that penetrating stare of hers, and I had to give in. “Well, all right, then, yes. I did have a crush on Toby.”
“And how did you feel about that?”
“How do you think? Guilty, mostly. He was my sister’s boyfriend.”
“And did you believe he reciprocated your feelings?
This time, I snorted. “Why would he? My sister’s beautiful and charming, and I’m—” I shut up, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“You’re what?” Dr. Milton prompted.
This time, I just shook my head, and no amount of her penetrating gaze would make me say more than I already had.
“All right, then.” She sighed, making a quick note on her pad. “We’ll pick up the story next time.”
For some reason, hearing that, I felt a prickle of unease—something that I hadn’t experienced since we’d first started these sessions. I’d never told anyone the next part of the story—I’d always been far too ashamed. And the prospect of sharing it with Dr. Milton filled me with dread.
Chapter 19
I’d spent so much time preparing for my first encounter with Richard, imagining what I’d say and do. But unfortunately it happened when I least expected it, rendering all my plans irrelevant.
It was the following Monday morning, and I was on my way back from the art department with some finished storyboards for Helena to review. As I rounded a corner, I collided with someone. I took a step back, forming an apology, but when I looked up and saw that it was Richard, the words died.
“Charlotte!” The usually unflappable Richard looked as stunned as I felt.
I blinked a couple of times, making sure that this wasn’t some elaborate daydream, and then I gathered my wits. “I thought you weren’t back until the end of the week.”
“A meeting came up that I needed to be here for.”
We lapsed into silence, the awkwardness settling between us. A couple of colleagues brushed past, nodding greetings at us. I could see Richard frowning with frustration. It was such a public place—hardly the time for a heart-to-heart. But that suited me just fine. As far as I was concerned, we’d both said everything we needed to that night in my apartment.
I held up the prints. “I should get these back to Helena.”
I made to walk past, but Richard caught me by the arm. “Wait.” Reluctantly I turned back to face him. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, and then said, “Look, Charlotte, I think we need to talk about the other night.”
This was exactly what I’d been dreading. I forced myself to give a casual shrug. “Why? Nothing happened, so there’s nothing to talk about, is there?”
He frowned, and I could tell he was thrown by my nonchalance. That was fine with me—the last thing I wanted was for him to think that his rejection had hurt or affected me in any way.
“Come on, Charlotte.” He lowered his voice. “I know you’re upset, and I just think it would help if you gave me a chance to explain myself—”
I forced a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t care less about that night. I just had an itch that needed scratching, and you were the closest man around.”
Richard’s jaw tightened, and the vein in his neck began to throb. It was worth remembering that this was all it took to annoy him.
“All right, if that’s how you want it,” he said finally. I made to walk away again, but then I heard him say, “Are you still coming to the party on Friday night?”
It took me a second to remember—it was the firm’s Christmas party. I’d been looking forward to it before, but now that I’d thrown myself at him, I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d less like to be going. Unfortunately if I tried to back out, he’d assume that it was because of him, and I didn’t want him to think that—even if it was true.
I looked back, forcing a bright smile. “Of course I’ll be there. You know me—can’t keep away from a good party.”
With that, I finally managed to escape. But as I made my way back to my desk, I couldn’t help wondering how I was ever going to get through the evening.
* * *
That Friday night, I sat in the back of a black cab, nervously picking at the beading on my dress. I was on my way to Vinopolis, the elegant events venue in Southbank where Davenport’s held its Christmas party. Luckily my flat was close enough to the office to allow me to go home to change for the party, and I’d decided to make use of the advantage. A lot of the other staff members weren’t so lucky, and had to get ready in the company loos, which meant that by five that evening the ladies’ room reeked of hairspray and was full of women jostling for a place in front of the mirror.
I’d picked out my gown two Saturdays ago, when I’d had my hair done. It was a strapless red velvet dress, with a full ballerina skirt, and I’d managed to find heels in the same shade. The dress had a proper bodice, which cinched in my waist and pushed up my bosom, in a flattering but not indecent way. Even though I was dressing more conservatively for work, I still hadn’t completely abandoned my unique style—I was just trying to save it for more appropriate occasions. Tonight’s dress was the kind of outfit you wore to be noticed.
Even after what had happened with Richard, I’d gone through with my plans to look as spectacular as possible this evening. If nothing else, I was determined to show him what he was missing. I’d planned out every detail. Along with wearing the stunning red dress, I’d borrowed Lindsay’s curling wand, and after burning myself a few times, I’d eventually managed to style my hair in loose curls. I’d applied my make-up carefully—losing the heavy eyeliner in favour of just a lick of mascara along with a rose lip gloss—and finished off with a dusting of silver glitter across my shoulders and on my cheeks. Richard might not want me, but I was going to make sure I still had a good time.
It wasn’t like me to splash out on a taxi, but with these heels there was no way I was going to be able to walk, so I’d gone ahead and ordered a minicab. Twenty minutes later, the driver pulled along a cobbled street, which led to the private entrance to Vinopolis’s Great Hall, where the party was being held. The venue was close to Borough Market, and the whole area had a Dickensian feel. I paid the driver and stepped out into a swirl of women in evening gowns and men in black tie. It was Friday night, two weeks before Christmas, and it seemed everyone in London was out celebrating.
Bouncers stood outside an arched doorway, checking names off a list to keep out gatecrashers. Inside, signs directed me up a huge stone staircase. I dumped my coat in the cloakroom, and then followed the stream of people and thump of the music to the Great Hall.
When I got there, the party was already in full swing. I stood at the entrance for a moment, drinking in the scene. The Great Hall continued the Victorian London theme—it was a vast room, with magnificent high vaulted ceilings, oak-wood flooring and exposed brickwork. Practically the whole of the London office must have been crammed in—all four hundred of us. But the historic setting contrasted with the modern nightclub feel. Waiters circulated with trays of champagne
and canapés, and the lights were low, the music blaring out. A DJ was up on the stage at one end of the room. There were chairs and tables around the outside, surrounding a huge dance floor. The throb of the bass shook the floor. The strobe lights flashed pink and blue, merging into purple.
My eyes searched the sea of people, trying to pick out a familiar face. I couldn’t see anyone I knew, so I decided to make my way through the crowd until I stumbled across someone to talk to.
I began to fight my way through, with no luck, until I heard, “Hello, luvie.” Rex’s camp voice rose above the music. I turned to see him elbowing his way towards me. He’d gone all out for the occasion, looking even more flamboyant than usual in an electric-blue velvet suit. The pink cocktail in his hand finished off the look. He kissed me on each cheek, and then held me away from him, his eyes sweeping over me, to take in my outfit. “Now don’t you look a treat?” He nodded approvingly. “So who are you trying to impress tonight? Come on, don’t be shy, you can tell Uncle Rexie.”
I was pleased that with this lighting he couldn’t see my cheeks flush red. “I told you before, I’m not interested in anyone.”
He folded his arms, and pouted. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. No one comes dressed like that if she’s not hoping to catch someone’s eye.”
“Oh, leave the poor girl alone.” Helena appeared. I wouldn’t have recognised her if it hadn’t been for her trademark steely voice. She’d lost the businesslike glasses, and her hair had been released from its severe bun for the first time since I’d met her, floating like silk around her shoulders. She had on a black fitted dress, which showed off her slim figure perfectly. “After all, from what I understand she’s not the only one with her eye on someone this evening.” She gave a pointed glance towards Tristan Thorne, an accounts executive whom Rex had been nursing a crush on for ages.
“And I have no problem admitting it,” he said. “In fact, on that note—” He raised his cocktail glass, swallowed down the last of his drink and headed off through the throng, cutting his way towards the unsuspecting Tristan.
Right then, the DJ began to blend into another song, something more familiar. It took me a moment to recognise the opening refrain of Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love.”