The Charmer

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘I don’t think you were followed, as such,’ Nigel bleated lamely. ‘I believe it was more of a yearly update sort of thing – exam results, and leisure activities, and what have you.’

  ‘Private things!’ Maria spat. ‘Christ, this is unbelievable! How dare she stick her nose into my life like that!’

  Nigel was at a loss as to what to say next. He’d had it so clear in his head before she’d arrived: he would fill her in on the details; she would be ecstatically happy. Hallelujah! Ring the bells, send in the clowns . . .

  What he hadn’t anticipated was anger and awkward questions. He hadn’t prepared for that at all. But it was no wonder she had questioned his professional status. If he was listening to this, he’d be wondering what he was playing at, too. Any idiot could read a file and relay the facts. But Maria wanted reasons, and as he had never actually met Elsie Davidson he was sadly lacking in that department.

  ‘Look, I’m truly sorry I can’t tell you what you want to know,’ he said apologetically. ‘But apart from the little I picked up from my uncle, I only know the bare facts. And I’d rather not waste any more of your time until I’ve looked them over in more detail. And maybe I could speak to the detective.’

  ‘And you’d feel better about wasting my time then, would you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean . . . I just . . .’ Trailing off, Nigel flapped his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘If you’d just give me tonight, Miss Price?’

  Seeing the distress in his nut-brown eyes, Maria felt a twinge of regret for snapping at him. He had the look of the underdog about him – and that was something she recognised all too well from her time in care. None of this was his fault, and it was unfair of her to take her frustrations out on him. If anyone was to blame, it was the crazy old bitch who had popped up from the grave with this mad tale of long-lost fathers and rich spinster aunts.

  Sighing heavily, she ran a hand over her tired eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Nigel asked hesitantly, wary of having his head bitten off again. She’d taken this so much harder than he’d expected, and she didn’t look at all well. She was pale, and her hands were shaking.

  Looking up, Maria forced herself to give him a weary smile. ‘I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. And I’ve got a headache.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Nigel immediately felt guilty. ‘I should have thought . . . Can I get you a coffee? Or a sandwich, perhaps? There’s an excellent deli a few doors down if you’d like me to send out for something.’

  Shaking her head, Maria reached for her handbag. ‘No. I’d best just go back to the hotel and lie down before it turns into a migraine. I’ll take you up on that offer of some copies of the paperwork, though – if that’s still all right?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Nigel assured her. ‘You’ll have to bear with me, though. I, er, think the secretaries might have already left for the day, and I’m not very good with machinery.’

  ‘No rush,’ Maria told him politely – hoping that he didn’t take her too literally. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she’d throw up.

  Scooping up the folder, Nigel rushed out, glad of a chance to escape and compose himself: he’d been acting like an idiotic tongue-tied schoolboy since she’d arrived.

  Selecting several pieces, he slotted them into the copier and keyed in the settings – keeping his fingers crossed that it didn’t eat the originals or spew everything back out.

  Going back to his office a few minutes later, he was smiling as he handed the still-warm copies to Maria.

  ‘That should be enough to be going on with,’ he said, making his way around the desk. ‘There was a letter addressed to you, so I’ve slipped that in there, too.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Smiling tiredly, Maria folded everything and put it in her bag.

  ‘If you’d like to go and see the house while you’re here, just let me know,’ Nigel said, joining his hands together on the desk. ‘I can’t release the keys to you until everything’s legally transferred into your name, I’m afraid, but I’d be more than happy to show you around in the meantime.’

  Maria rubbed at her temples as the ache turned into a sickening throb.

  This was crazy.

  Miss Elsie Leonora Davidson was crazy.

  She must have been some kind of nutter, to hear about a poor little orphan girl and delude herself into believing that they were related.

  And she must have believed it to leave her house to a girl she had never met, but whose life she had apparently followed so closely. And not just any old house, but the one she had spent the entire sixty-five years of her life in, it seemed.

  ‘Do you know the Didsbury area?’ Nigel was asking.

  ‘Not really, no.’ Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Maria sat up straighter. ‘It was too posh for us lot. We tended to stick to Moss Side or town if we fancied a wander. Not that we ever went too far – we were a bit young for roaming back then. And our parents liked to know where we were, in case we were getting into mischief. But there you go . . .’ Trailing off, aware that she was waffling, she gave a tight smile.

  Gazing at her, Nigel sighed wistfully. She was so beautiful, and not nearly as brittle as she’d seemed at first. And when she smiled, there was a softness about her that reached right inside you and stroked your heart.

  Maria stood up. ‘Right, well, I’ll get going. Thanks for your help. And I’m sorry if I was rude, but this has all been a bit weird.’

  ‘It must have been quite a shock,’ Nigel agreed, rushing to open the door for her. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t handle it with more sensitivity, but I just assumed you’d be thrilled.’

  ‘Hardly!’ Maria snorted. ‘Try completely pissed off.’ Giving him a wry smile, she walked past him into the reception area. ‘What a crazy day,’ she said wearily, slipping her jacket on. ‘I can’t get my head around this woman thinking she was my aunt for all that time without telling anyone. It’s weird.’

  ‘She probably thought she was doing the right thing,’ Nigel suggested. ‘People of that generation tend not to view things in quite the same way as the rest of us. But at least she tried to put it right in the end. That must be some comfort.’

  ‘Not really.’ Maria shrugged dismissively. ‘Anyway, I’ll give you a ring when I’ve looked this stuff over and we can set up another meeting before I go home.’

  ‘When are you going?’ Nigel asked, casually, as if it were just a matter of business interest.

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon – and I can’t wait.’ Maria peered out through the street door. It was dusky outside, and people were walking faster – wearing their coats now instead of carrying them. Maria zipped her jacket up in readiness for the cold.

  Nigel struggled to mask his disappointment. He’d hoped there would be time for a few more meetings while she was in town – lunch, or dinner, maybe. But who was he kidding?

  Making an effort to pull himself together, he said, ‘I’ll be here from eight-thirty in the morning, so just come in whenever you’re ready. I’ve nothing on that can’t be rejigged.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Smiling, Maria hooked her bag over her shoulder and held out her hand.

  Nigel felt the heat rise to his cheeks when he shook it. Her skin was so soft, but her grip was firm. It was a heady combination and he was overwhelmed by a desire to kiss her hand.

  Dropping it before he did something stupid and really embarrassed himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.

  ‘Why don’t you take this?’ he babbled, thrusting it into her hand. ‘It’s got my mobile number on it, so if you get a sudden urge to go and see the house before tomorrow, you can give me a call. I don’t live too far out of town. I could be back within the hour.’

  ‘I sincerely doubt I’ll get the urge,’ Maria assured him, slipping the card into her bag.

  Watching from the window when Maria had gone, Nigel sighed. His shoulders slumped. He’d been so excited about meeting her, anticipating it as if he were reuniting with a long-lost fr
iend. But in reality, she was not a friend, she was a client. A beautiful, sexy client, but a client nonetheless. And not even that for too much longer, he shouldn’t wonder, for he had no doubt that she’d transfer her affairs to another solicitor as soon as she got home.

  ‘Who’s the honey?’

  ‘Christ!’ Jumping when Adam Miller crept up behind him and clapped a hand down on his shoulder, Nigel’s forehead bounced off the glass. ‘You bloody idiot!’ he complained. ‘You frightened the life out of me. I could have gone right through!’

  ‘Never mind your big head,’ Adam said dismissively. ‘Who was she?’

  ‘Cinderella,’ Nigel murmured, gazing wistfully out again.

  Maria had disappeared from view.

  ‘You what ?’ Drawing his head back, Adam gave a bemused smile. ‘As in glass slippers and wicked stepmothers?’

  Realising how ridiculous he must sound, Nigel grinned to cover his embarrassment. ‘As in rags to riches, you plonker. Even you must know that one.’

  ‘Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ Adam teased. ‘Must say, though, I never had you down as the fairy-tale type. Just goes to show, eh?’

  ‘Very funny. Look, you remember Miss Davidson?’

  ‘Your Uncle Ted’s girlfriend? Yeah, what about her?’

  ‘She was not his girlfriend, she was his client. And I wish you wouldn’t speak about him like that. It’s incredibly disrespectful.’

  ‘Easy, tiger, it was a joke,’ Adam said, chuckling softly. ‘Remember them? Funny words – people laugh.’

  Aware that he was overreacting, Nigel sighed. ‘Sorry. No excuse, I know, but I’ve been waiting to meet the niece for years, and today I finally get the chance, and what do I do? Totally balls it up, like the—’

  ‘Whoa there!’ Adam’s eyebrows had risen sharply. ‘Back up a step . . . The honey was Miss Davidson’s niece?’

  ‘Yep. Last living relative.’

  ‘Really? So, she inherits—’

  ‘The lot,’ Nigel finished for him. ‘Lock, stock, and three-storey house in Didsbury.’

  ‘Wow,’ Adam exclaimed enviously. ‘Lucky little honey.’

  ‘Try telling her that,’ Nigel countered mournfully.

  ‘What’s she planning to do with it all?’ Adam asked, checking his reflection in the window behind Nigel now.

  Well used to his colleague’s vanity, Nigel moved aside. ‘No idea,’ he said, shrugging as he leaned back against the ledge. ‘We didn’t get that far, but it’s my guess that she’ll sell up. She’s already said she can’t wait to go home tomorrow.’

  ‘And where’s that?’

  ‘Devon.’ Another heartfelt sigh.

  ‘That’s a long way to come for a meeting,’ Adam said, tucking his shirt in. ‘Why bother if she’s going straight back?’

  Shrugging, Nigel reached down and plucked invisible lint off his trouser leg, too ashamed to admit that he had given her the impression that she had to come.

  ‘So, what’s she doing while she’s here?’ Adam asked. ‘Has she got friends in town?’

  ‘No. She’s staying at the Britannia.’

  ‘Can’t be bad. Still, I suppose she can afford it with an inheritance like that.’

  ‘Not until the papers are signed and everything’s transferred,’ Nigel said. ‘Mind you, I doubt she’ll want to touch it even then. She doesn’t seem too keen on claiming it. But you can hardly blame her, I suppose.’

  Adam gave him a questioning look. ‘Why on Earth would anybody object to inheriting that kind of money? She’d have to be stupid to turn it down. And from the little I saw of her, I wouldn’t have thought she was that. Gorgeous, yeah. But not stupid.’

  ‘Actually, this is the first she’s heard of it,’ Nigel said tersely.

  Adam was displaying a bit too much interest for his liking and, given his track record, Nigel wouldn’t put it past him to be hanging around when Maria came in tomorrow. She’d take one look at his handsome face and perfect smile, and it would be all over bar the panting. Pathetic, he knew, but he was a man, not just a solicitor.

  ‘How could she not know her aunt was planning to leave her a fortune?’ Adam wanted to know. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘She didn’t know she had an aunt,’ Nigel explained grudgingly. ‘Her mum died when she was a kid and no one knew she had any living family, so she was shipped off to Devon. Miss Davidson managed to track her down and keep tabs on her, but she didn’t tell anybody. Consequently, the niece got the shock of her life when I brought her in and told her she’d had an aunt all along.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ Adam murmured thoughtfully. ‘I bet she’s gutted she didn’t find out earlier.’

  ‘She’s not gutted,’ Nigel corrected him. ‘She’s furious that Miss Davidson didn’t even try to contact her.’

  Pursing his lips, Adam nodded. ‘I can see her point. It’s one thing finding out by accident after the fact, but knowing it was deliberately kept from you, that would be a bit of a slap in the face. Still . . .’ He shrugged. ‘You can’t miss what you’ve never had, can you?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Nigel agreed, sighing.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, man,’ Adam said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine when she gets her head around it – you’ll see.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Nigel murmured. ‘She’s had a pretty rough time of it, and I reckon it’s going to take her a while to get used to handling this kind of money. She’ll need financial guidance.’

  ‘Which is where you come in, I take it?’ Adam gave a knowing grin. He could read Nigel’s face like the back of his hand – every expression, from mad to sad to horny; and this latest client had got his juices flowing. Not that Adam blamed him. He’d only caught a glimpse of her from his office when Nigel had led her through reception, but it was enough to know that she was an absolute babe.

  ‘Actually, I doubt I’ll still be involved after tomorrow,’ Nigel told him glumly. ‘I’ve given her some paperwork to go over, but I’ve got a feeling that our next meeting will be the last I see of her.’

  ‘Oh, well, it obviously wasn’t meant to be.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Nigel agreed. ‘Still, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t even be thinking like this.’

  ‘Because she’s a client, and it’s against the rules?’ Adam teased.

  ‘Exactly!’

  Easing his cuff back, Nigel checked the time, surprised to see that it was past seven already. He’d spent far longer with Maria Price than he’d realised. No wonder she’d been so desperate to escape. It was high time he got out of here himself.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Best not,’ Adam said, grinning as he added, ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone, and I’m already late.’

  ‘Go on, then.’ Nigel sighed good-naturedly. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Winking, Adam went to his office and snatched his jacket off the back of the chair. Slipping it on, he strolled out again. ‘See you tomorrow. Try not to have too much fun.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Nigel muttered morosely.

  Watching through the window as Adam sauntered out, Nigel winced when he collided with a pretty young woman who was walking past. Reaching out to steady her, Adam said something that she obviously found amusing, eliciting a coy smile from her. Giving one of his own cocky beauties in return, he went on his way. The woman did, too, but she couldn’t resist sneaking a quick look back.

  ‘Smooth bugger,’ Nigel muttered when Adam gave a casual wave over his shoulder as if he’d been expecting it.

  He couldn’t imagine how fantastic it must be to have women falling all over themselves to go out with him, like they did with Adam – and he doubted that he’d ever find out. Adam exuded a self-confidence Nigel could only dream of, and he was so damn handsome it was criminal. If his morning-after-the-night-before stories were true – and Nigel had no reason to doubt them – women couldn’t keep their hands off him. Eve
ry time he turned around there was another one thrusting her breasts at him, smiling, flirting, teasing, giggling . . . Nigel would die for a piece of that, but you either had it or you didn’t. And while Adam did, Nigel most definitely didn’t.

  The phone on his desk began to ring. Hoping wildly that it was Maria Price calling to say she had changed her mind and would like him to take her to see the house, he locked the street door and rushed back to his office to answer it.

  He was disappointed to hear his mother’s voice.

  ‘Oh, I am glad I caught you, Nigel. I was afraid you’d already left.’

  ‘No, I’m still here,’ he replied wearily. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Aunt Beryl’s coming to stay,’ she informed him, her tone its usual blend of complaint and resignation as she added, ‘As if I didn’t have enough to contend with. Anyway, I’m going to need you to pick up a few things on your way home, so get a pen and make a list, would you? And do hurry, Nigel. I’ve a lot to do before I can call the night my own.’

  Closing his eyes, Nigel dropped his head into his hand. How he longed to be able to say ‘Sorry, Mother, but I’m afraid you’ll have to do it yourself, because I’m busy tonight – with my girlfriend.’ But there was no point even thinking it, never mind saying it. She’d never believe it.

  Sighing heavily, he flipped his desk pad open.

  ‘Go on, then . . . What do you need?’

  4

  Maria called Beth when she got back to the hotel and gave her a quick rundown of what had happened. Keeping it brief because she was too exhausted to answer any of Beth’s questions, she promised she would call back when she had gone over everything and was able to think straight.

  Switching the phone off, she climbed fully clothed into bed, burying her head in the comforting coolness of the pillow.

  Waking a couple of hours later, she felt much better. There was still a faint shadow of an ache behind her eyes, but her head was a lot clearer.