An Ordinary Girl

by Barabara Elsborg

  “Sunday Times. They do a linked photo section in the magazine but I think they’d play this as an article. Or maybe The Observer. It would work for Channel 4 too. I’ll give James Morgan a call. How soon can you have the photos?”

  “Pretty soon.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Next week.”

  “Hang on, Noah. I need to take this call.”

  While Noah waited, he poured out two glasses of orange juice and made coffee. Finally, Wolfe came back to him.

  “Bloody wanker. Christophe DeTours has got pneumonia, the inconsiderate bastard. Don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow?”

  Noah thought of Ash naked in his bed. “No.”

  “You can’t make yourself free? Christ, you’re asking me for a favor and then decline to help me out of a hole? Maybe I should reconsider calling James Morgan.”

  Noah sighed. “To do what?”

  “Sandra McKinnock is in Paris with the baby she’s adopted in Vietnam. Exclusive interview for Hello scheduled for tomorrow, but now I have no photographer. I know it’s not your sort of thing. Shit, not much is your sort of thing. I’ll have to ask Dan Jones, though he’s been pretty busy since you’ve been off the scene.”

  To say Noah detested Dan Jones would be an understatement. They had history and— “I’ll go.” Christ, did I say that?

  “Great,” Wolfe said. “You’ll need to catch the Eurostar tonight. The interview is at the Four Seasons George V. Ten in the morning.”

  Of course it was, Noah thought. One of the most expensive hotels in Paris. Plus the chances of the petulant American movie star actually being ready at ten were nil. He’d be hanging around all day and probably the next.

  “Buy me two tickets, leaving after seven tonight, returning Sunday evening and take it out of my fee. Usual rates.”

  There was a pause before Wolfe agreed. “I’ll have them couriered over.”

  His hesitation perturbed Noah, but in view of the problem he now had to face, he let it go. How could he persuade Ash to come with him?

  Dalton sat staring at him.

  “What?” Noah snapped.

  “Tell me I’m wrong, but didn’t you just accept a job? What are you going to photograph?”

  “Everything I detest, but I’m taking Ash with me as a reward. I just need to talk her into it.”

  * * * * *

  Dalton had a problem.

  Ash was more than a fling.

  He’d sensed it from the very beginning, and the fact that she’d lasted the night more than confirmed this waitress wasn’t a simple fuck. He should never have gone along with it, but at least Noah had begun to respond to something, and Dalton was too greedy to say no. The irony was that Noah would most likely have funded him while he wrote this book, though Dalton was too proud to ask.

  At first, his role had been to keep Noah company, persuade him to eat and make sure he stayed safe. It hadn’t been a bad idea to encourage Noah to find a woman, but Ash wasn’t the quick fling he’d made her out to be. He’d let Ilya believe he’d paid her when he hadn’t. And Dalton suspected the reason Wolfe was sending Noah to Paris was because after Dalton’s phone call, Ilya had contacted Wolfe and asked him to give his brother work.

  Now what am I supposed to do? Dalton rested his elbows on the table, pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and rubbed. Was there any point not telling Ilya that Noah was taking Ash when Wolfe had probably already called him? Dalton picked up his phone and slunk to his bedroom. If only he’d said no when Ilya offered to pay him. He could have done this out of kindness, out of friendship, though he’d have been forced to work a day job, and that meant he couldn’t always be there for Noah. On the upside, the novel was now going well, but Dalton had a sneaky suspicion he was putting too much realism in it, too much connected with conniving brothers and ruined friendships.

  Dalton called Ilya and the number was engaged. It didn’t have to be Wolfe but Dalton assumed it was. He kept trying until he got through and then related what he’d heard of the conversation and that Noah planned to take Ash to Paris.

  “No,” Ilya said. “That’s not going to happen. Don’t let it happen.”

  Right, I’ll wave my fucking magic wand. “Why not, if it makes Noah happy?”

  “I don’t want him latching on to this woman now that he’s finally getting himself out of his pit.”

  “But if she leaves him, he might sink back again.”

  “He’ll find someone else. In fact, I have just the woman in mind. Pay that one off. Make sure he gets on that train.”

  Dalton sighed. “You’re making a mistake. He likes Ash. More than likes her. He wants to do this project on the gardens she’s worked on. I don’t want him to be hurt.”

  “Look, I know this hasn’t been easy, but now that Noah has accepted work again, he’s obviously on the mend. You won’t have to do this for much longer. Get him on the train, make sure she’s not on it and there’s a ten-thousand-pound bonus.”

  “No.” Dalton swallowed hard, glad he was able to be defiant over the phone. Face-to-face with Ilya, he wouldn’t have been as brave.

  There was a short silence before Ilya spoke. “What?”

  “Let it run its course. She’s made him smile. Why destroy him again?”

  “Why would I want to destroy him?” Ilya spluttered with rage. “I want what’s best for him. Everything I’ve done has been to help him. This woman is not what Noah needs.”

  “How would you know what Noah needs?”

  “Because I’m his fucking brother. Now do what I’ve said or I’ll tell Noah exactly what you’ve been up to for the last seven—”

  Dalton cut him off.

  * * * * *

  Ash knew Noah wanted to tell her something. He was like a fidgety puppy as he waited for her to finish eating the croissant.

  “That was a lovely breakfast, even if it is two in the afternoon,” she said with a smile.

  “I have a surprise.”

  She groaned. “No more. I can’t.”

  “A different surprise. Though watching you eat has given me a boner the size of Florida.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to come to Paris with me.”

  Ash gasped. “Paris? When?” Oh GodGodGodGodGod.

  “This evening. We return on Sunday. I have to work tomorrow, but hopefully we’ll have all of Saturday and most of Sunday. Have you been before?”

  High to low in an instant. “No, but—”

  He beamed. “It’s a beautiful city.”

  “I can’t,” Ash whispered. “I have to work.”

  “You can have a day off, can’t you?”

  “Not at this short notice.”

  The pleasure on his face faded to a look of sulky petulance. “Free ticket, free hotel and I’ll fuck you as part of the package.”

  Ash glared, but her mind was already racing through ways of making Paris happen. She wanted to go. She could have just said yes and then found a way to make it happen.

  “Call in sick,” he pleaded. “Not sure I can make it rain again tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it rains. It’s my day at the Citizens Advice Bureau. Maybe I can find someone to swap with me.”

  Noah flung himself out of bed, scrambled for her phone and thrust it into her hand, the expression on his face now one of desperation. “I want you to come.”

  He sat at her side and bit his fingernails. The first two people she asked said no, but the next said yes, and almost before she’d finished thanking her colleague, Noah was jumping around and whooping.

  He stumbled to a halt. “You do have a passport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God for that.” He stripped off his boxers, dropped onto the bed and caressed her jaw with warm hands. Noah stared into her eyes as he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs then trailed soft lips and a stubbled chin the length of her face.

  Ash’s fingers danced across his back. “Should I go home and pack?”

  “Not yet
.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “St. Pancras Station at seven, in front of the statue.” Noah opened the door of the cab for her to climb in.

  “What statue?” Ash asked.

  He smiled. “You can’t miss it. It’s about thirty feet tall. A guy and a woman in each other’s arms.” He bent to give her a kiss on the lips. “See you soon.”

  As Noah watched the cab turn the corner, the courier arrived with the tickets. Noah signed for them and ripped open the envelope while he ran upstairs. They were booked on the Eurostar leaving at 7:15. He’d call Ash in a minute and tell her not to be late. Oh God, Paris with Ash. Excitement bubbled inside him. There was so much he wanted to do with her, to her, for her.

  Noah yanked his overnight case from his closet, tossed it on his bed and packed. His photographic equipment went in another bag—cameras, lenses and the extra gear he might need.

  “Anything else for the wash?” Dalton called from the doorway.

  “Since when did you do my washing?”

  “I just chucked your pants in with mine.”

  “My pants?” Noah scanned the bedroom floor. “Where’s my phone?”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Did you check the pockets?” Noah snapped.

  “I didn’t feel a phone.”

  Noah pushed past him and hurried to the utility room. The machine was into a wash cycle. No way of opening a front loader until the water had drained. He turned the knob and halted the program then flicked it to spin.

  Dalton fidgeted at the door. “Sure it was in your pants?”

  “Call me from your phone,” Noah said. “See if we can hear mine.”

  Noah went to stand near his bedroom door.

  Dalton walked up to him. “Straight to voicemail.”

  “Fuck.”

  Back at the washing machine, Noah paced while the machine powered down. Once he heard the click of the door release, he wrenched it open. A moment later he held a dripping phone.

  “Christ. I’m sorry,” Dalton said. “Makes a change that it’s my fault.”

  “How’s that supposed to help,” Noah snapped.

  “I’ll sort out a replacement.”

  “I need it now.”

  Dalton shook his head. “There’s no way of getting a new one tonight, but even if there was, it won’t be fully charged for twenty-four hours.”

  “Ash’s number’s in there.” Noah fumbled with the phone casing, pulled out the SIM card and wiped it on his pants. “Give me your phone.”

  “It’s not going to work. It’d need unlocking.”

  “There must be a way of getting into it.”

  “Nowhere will be open now.”

  Noah sighed. “Fuck it. Well, it will be okay so long as she’s not late.”

  * * * * *

  Ash folded the last item of clothing and put it in her rucksack. To her disappointment, Kay had greeted her news about going to Paris with a distinct lack of interest. Her sulky housemate lay on the floor in the living room, exercising while she watched rubbish on the TV and had barely looked up when Ash rushed in to tell her. Neither Mike nor Ronan were home yet, and Ash knew she’d only told Kay because they weren’t there.

  After mentally running through the things she’d packed, Ash was satisfied she had what she needed, apart from her passport. She could pick up euros at the station. She opened her wardrobe, lifted the blue cardboard box from the top shelf and put it on her bed.

  Odd that her passport wasn’t at the top. Concern but not panic trickled through her. Ash tipped the box over on the bed and spread everything out. No dark-red passport. Shit. Now she panicked.

  By the time she’d searched every drawer and even the pockets of her clothes, Ash was confounded. How could the damn thing be missing? She checked the time. 5:40. It would take forty minutes to get to St. Pancras. She went through everything again, fighting the urge to cry when she failed to find it.

  Ash flew downstairs with her bag, dropped it in the hall and ran into the living room. Kay was doing sit-ups.

  “Have you seen my passport?”

  Kay huffed. “No. Why would I have seen it?”

  Ash chewed her lip. She checked the stack of DVDs and moved the couch to look underneath. Common sense told her it couldn’t be anywhere down here, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  “What’s up?” Ronan stood at the doorway in his leathers.

  “Noah asked me to go to Paris for the weekend. I’m supposed to be at St. Pancras by seven and I can’t find my passport.”

  “Where do you usually keep it?”

  “In a box in my wardrobe. I’ve checked. I’ve checked everywhere.”

  “Want me to look?” he asked.

  “Oh please, thank you.” Ash continued to search, looking in the kitchen cupboards, the cubbyhole under the stairs and among the telephone directories. Noah was going to think she’d done this deliberately. Bloody typical now that she was desperate to go, it looked less and less likely to happen. She glanced up when she heard Ronan coming and her shoulders fell when she saw his face.

  “When did you last have it?” he asked.

  Ash exhaled. “Italy, in May. But I remember putting it back in the box. I remember being disappointed they hadn’t stamped it.” She sat on the bottom step, a lump of lead in her stomach. “Well, that’s it. I can’t go.”

  “Don’t give up yet.” Ronan squeezed her shoulder. “Kay,” he shouted.

  Kay appeared in the doorway. “What?”

  “Go and check where you keep your passport, just in case Ash’s has somehow got trawled up with it. I’ll look in Mike’s room.”

  Ash had given up. They weren’t going to find it. Why would it be anywhere but in that box? Maybe they’d been the victims of a very selective burglar. Shit. She slumped on the stairs, pulled out her phone and called Noah. It went straight to voicemail. Double shit. Ash took a deep breath and left a message. “I can’t find my passport. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Call me.”

  Kay came past her. “It’s not with mine.”

  “Thanks for looking.” Not a burglar then.

  6:25. Ash had no chance of getting to St. Pancras for seven. She blinked tears from her eyes and called Noah again.

  Why does he have his phone switched off? Or is he talking to someone? Ash left another message. “Still can’t find it. I’m really sorry. Call me.”

  Ronan dropped down at her side.

  “I can’t make it anyway now. Thanks for trying.” Ash tried to smile. “There’ll be another time.”

  * * * * *

  Dalton stared at his phone. He knew who was calling. Noah, using a pay phone at St. Pancras, in a panic because Ash hadn’t turned up. He took a deep breath and picked up his mobile.

  “Have you heard from Ash?” Noah asked. “There’s no sign of her and we need to get on the train in the next couple of minutes.”

  “Don’t miss the damn thing.”

  “If she doesn’t turn up, I’m not going.”

  Dalton tensed. “You have to go. You can’t let Wolfe down. He’ll never give you any more work.” And Ilya will kill me if you don’t kill me first.

  “Christ, Dalton, she could be lying dead in a ditch or something.”

  “Maybe she changed her mind. Get on the fucking train.”

  He could almost hear Noah glowering.

  “I’m not waltzing off without at least knowing she’s okay,” Noah snapped.

  “She’s probably just late.” Dalton moderated his tone. “Look, I’ll go to Ash’s house and find out what’s wrong. I’ll send a message to the hotel. Where are you staying?”

  “Hotel Regencia. Get her on another train.”

  “I’ll sort it out.”

  “You should have let me have your phone,” Noah muttered, and ended the call.

  Noah had begged and he’d refused. Dalton kept waiting for Noah to work out he could go online and get the numbers from the provider, but since Dalton had sorted out all the other lost or destro
yed phones, maybe Noah hadn’t realized. Dalton had Kay’s number in his contacts, though he’d called her Blondie, but it was the call log he didn’t want Noah to see. How was he supposed to explain all those calls from Ilya?

  Dalton dropped onto the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes only to flash them open again. What the fuck did I say? I’ll go to her house? How could he do that? He wasn’t supposed to know where she lived.

  This had seemed a lot more straightforward when he’d planned it. Pay Kay two hundred and fifty quid to hide Ash’s passport and then he’d ruin Noah’s phone. Dalton switched off his phone while he decided what to do. He didn’t want to handle a call from Noah asking how the fuck he knew where Ash lived—not until he’d thought of the right answer.

  No matter what lies Dalton managed to concoct—and he could think a few—the bottom line was if Noah found out what he’d done over the last seven months, he’d never forgive him. Dalton grimaced. He’d wanted to help Noah, he really had, but he’d gone too far. He’d risked wrecking their friendship because he wanted time to write a fucking book. More to the point, he’d risked Noah’s health. No book was worth it. Why the hell shouldn’t Noah go to Paris with Ash if he wanted to? Why the hell shouldn’t he want her for more than a fling? Yeah, well, Dalton thought he knew the answer to the last one. Ash was no way good enough for Noah’s aristocratic family, but it was time for an asshole of a friend to make amends.

  He sent Kay a text. Let Ash find her passport. You can keep the money. Then he grabbed Noah’s car keys.

  * * * * *

  By the time Dalton pulled up outside the house in Greenwich, he’d gone through multiple ways this could pan out. In order not to land Kay in the shit too, Dalton had to be the one to let Ash know where Noah was staying.

  One knock and the door was opened by a guy he recognized. Dalton’s mind went blank before it sprinted out of control. Noah’s doctor. Except it isn’t. So who is he? Obviously he’s Ash’s friend. Why had he come to see Noah? How did he know about the Friday appointments?