A Vicarage Homecoming
Page 25
Third message. “I’m trying to reach Eleanor Matthews.” The male voice and cut-glass syllables were both unrecognizable. “She was due to start work as my personal assistant today, and I’ve been trying to reach her for several hours. If this is Miss Matthews, could she please ring me, Dr. Oliver Venables, as soon as possible? Thank you.” The sudden, loud click of the phone being hung up hurt Ellie’s ear.
Her stomach plunged unpleasantly as she tried to process the message. She wasn’t due to start at the history faculty until Tuesday, and she didn’t even know who this Dr. Oliver Venables was. She was a general administrative assistant, i.e., dogsbody, to the faculty, not someone’s personal secretary. She was tempted to ignore the call, but she had a feeling that would be a bad idea. He’d sounded important and worse, irritated.
“Mum?”
Ellie looked up to see Abby standing in the kitchen area, a half-unpacked box of food around her feet. “What about tea?”
“Right.” Ellie hurried over and banged a pot of water on the stove, thankful the gas and electric were both switched on. “Pasta tonight, all right? We’ve got a packet of spaghetti somewhere, and some sauce…”
“Okay.” Abby’s hands were lost in the sleeves of her oversized black hoodie and standing amidst the boxes, her thin shoulders hunched, she looked younger than her eleven years and entirely vulnerable. Ellie couldn’t resist giving her a quick sideways hug, even though her daughter didn’t do hugs and predictably squirmed away.
“Can you keep an eye on that water, Abs? I just need to make a call.”
Ellie went upstairs to her bedroom, her heart thudding and her palms turning slick, which was stupid, because she knew she was in the right here. Wasn’t she? Quickly she scrolled through her emails, but she didn’t see anything from Dr. Ven-whatever. She checked her spam folder, and then her heart did an unpleasant somersault. There was a message from the history faculty, and the subject heading was ‘Urgent-Early Start’. Damn it.
The phone rang four times before it was picked up, and Ellie listened to the cut-glass tones she recognized from the message with a wince. “Oliver Venables, may I help?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, wincing again at how loud it sounded. “This is Eleanor Matthews…”
“Miss Matthews.” Oliver Venables’ voice was caught between relief and definite irritation. “You were due to start this morning. May I ask what has happened?”
“I’m sorry, uh, Dr. Venables, but I wasn’t expecting to start until Tuesday.” Ellie closed her eyes and crossed her fingers, half-waiting for the blast of aristocratic outrage coming her way. All she got was taut silence. “Also,” she ventured to add, “I don’t think I’m actually your personal assistant?” For some reason she made this sound like a question even though she hadn’t meant it to be one. “I’m the general administrative assistant for the history faculty…”
“Yes, and you have been lent to me for the next term,” Dr. Venables cut across her in a tone of barely-concealed impatience. “The deputy head of administration sent you an email about it several days ago.”
“Right.” She wasn’t going to mention the email in her spam folder. They should have rung, for heaven’s sake. “I’m sorry,” she added, because she didn’t want to mess this job up.
“Never mind all that,” Dr. Venables cut her off. “We’ll just have to start now as we mean to go on. Please report to my office in the history department tomorrow at nine.”
“Tomorrow? But I’ve only just…”
“Term starts Monday, and your contract starts tomorrow,” Oliver cut across her. “I looked at it this morning.”
Did it? The agreement to start on Tuesday had only been verbal, but… “If I could just…” Ellie began only to have Oliver interrupt her yet again.
“I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Matthews.” And without waiting for her to reply, Dr. Oliver Venables hung up the phone, leaving Ellie with her mouth gaping, her mind spinning, and a definite sinking sensation in her stomach.
Find out what happens next…
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More books by Kate Hewitt
The Willoughby Close series
Book 1: A Cotswold Christmas
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Book 2: Meet Me at Willoughby Close
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Book 3: Find Me at Willoughby Close
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Book 4: Kiss Me at Willoughby Close
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Book 5: Marry Me at Willoughby Close
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About the Author
After spending three years as a diehard New Yorker, Kate Hewitt now lives in the Lake District in England with her husband, their five children, and a Golden Retriever. She enjoys such novel things as long country walks and chatting with people in the street, and her children love the freedom of village life—although she often has to ring four or five people to figure out where they’ve gone off to.
She writes women’s fiction as well as contemporary romance under the name Kate Hewitt, and whatever the genre she enjoys delivering a compelling and intensely emotional story.
You can find out more about Katharine on her website at kate-hewitt.com, on Facebook and on Twitter @katehewitt1.
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