Harper's Fate

by F. C. Clark

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know her, but that’s very sad.’ I look down at my paper cup. ‘You know I’ll always cook for you; I would never let you down… Or let you starve.’

  ‘Of course you’ll want to leave at some point. You have dreams and aspirations. Also, you took the position knowing it was temporary. Do I miss Margaret’s cooking? No. Will I miss yours when you decide to leave? Yes.’

  Shit. Does he really fear losing me, or is he just telling me what I want to hear? Bloody hell. I feel lost – lost in Sutton World.

  We sit and chat for an hour, until the dregs of the coffee is all that remains. Luke takes my hand and takes me to the sexy black DBS to begin our return journey.

  ‘I’ve got another interview on Monday. To be honest, I’m nervous. I really like this company.’ I look at my fingers, anxious.

  ‘Kate, having nerves is never a bad thing; it keeps you on your toes. However, I’m not sure I want you to get the job.’ Luke turns to me. ‘I’m a selfish man. In time you will come to realise that.’ He raises his brow and gives me a sexy smile.

  ‘I told you I would ever let you go hungry. Even if I had to work three jobs I would always be there for you.’ My response hangs in the air, as my honesty is not lost on him.

  We pull up outside my house.

  ‘Thank you for this evening.’ I laugh. ‘Thanks for sharing your private view of London; it was stunning.’

  ‘You’re welcome, and as ever you’ve been extremely entertaining. Nonetheless, Kate, I think you need to brush up on your undercover work.’

  ‘Very funny.’ I smile. He does have a point. ‘Goodnight, Luke. Drive carefully.’

  I race out of the car before he can open the door for me.

  11

  The interview went well – I hope. How does anyone really know how an interview plays out? You go over the questions and your answers, or the answers you should have given. I’m in the hands of the gods – let the waiting game begin.

  I walk towards the bus stop. I hear the humming of a car slowing beside me.

  ‘How was it?’

  I recognise the baritone voice – and the impact it has on my body. I stop.

  ‘OK, I hope.’

  The car comes to a complete standstill and Luke jumps out, looking dashing as ever in his signature black suit. He holds the door open for me.

  ‘Allow me to take you home – or, should I say, to my house.’

  For once I don’t feel the need to argue with him, and slide in to the rear of the Bentley.

  ‘You look lovely, and appropriately dressed.’ He looks from my outfit to my eyes. ‘I would hire you.’

  ‘You already have.’ I smirk, playfully.

  ‘Fair point.’

  ‘Are you going home for the day? It’s only lunchtime.’ Why am I questioning him? Just because I want him to work from home.

  ‘No, Kate. I knew you would need a lift, rather than get a taxi.’

  ‘I was going to get the bus.’

  His chest expands and frown lines appear on his forehead. I have said something to irritate him.

  ‘Kate, if you need to be somewhere at any time, please ask. I would rather know you’re safe.’ His need for my safety continues to confuse me, and quite frankly is bloody odd.

  ‘That’s really sweet of you.’ Of course, I’ll never ask.

  ‘How do you think it went?’

  I shrug. ‘Who knows?’

  His hand touches the cuff of my blue personalised shirt. ‘Interesting shirt.’

  ‘A Mr Jones special – maybe it’s in case I forget my name!’

  Luke’s head falls back as he laughs.

  We arrive at the palace. I quickly walk round to Luke’s opened window.

  ‘Thanks for the lift – see you both soon.’ I turn and walk towards the large black door as Luke watches me, I can only assume to make sure I am in safe and sound.

  The end of the day arrives – and I write a note for my personal chauffeur.

  Dear Luke,

  Thank you for the lift this afternoon; my feet were extremely grateful.

  Tonight’s meal consists of roast chicken, stuffing balls, roast potatoes and vegetables.

  You may notice the EAT ME sign resting on top of a coffee cake… I do apologise as this may make you want to run this evening.

  Take care.

  Kate x

  I’m exhausted tonight. I get home from Pete’s, and Harry is not back from her date with Monsieur Raymond. I crawl upstairs to bed, and my eyes close before I even have time to think about my day.

  On Tuesday morning, I arrive at work and notice the study doors are open. My heart skips a beat as I peer in to the office, only to see an empty desk with no sign of him. Yet again I feel disappointed and extremely annoyed with myself to assume that he would be here… here for me.

  I enter the kitchen and look into the best place in the world – the fridge.

  Dear Kate,

  You are most welcome for the lift. It was a pleasure to ensure you and your feet arrived home safely.

  Dinner was superb: are you partial to a ball or two?

  Yes, I did run a few extra miles just so I could eat more cake.

  I didn’t know that employees should come with a health warning… You seem to be a danger not only to my body but also my mind.

  I will try to take care… Back at you, Kate.

  Luke x

  Lost in a trance, I hold the note tightly to my chest and close the fridge door.

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  Luke’s voice hits me, making me jump. Crap! I can feel myself blushing, knowing I offered him a bird’s-eye view of the effect his daily notes have on me.

  ‘You made me jump. I wasn’t expecting you to be lurking by the fridge.’

  ‘Lurking? I’m simply watching you.’

  ‘Then maybe you shouldn’t watch people. Why are you home?’ Why does he make me retaliate? How rude of me – after all, this is his home.

  ‘Did you get out of the wrong side of bed this morning?’ He saunters into the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should rethink your sleeping position, Kate.’ He looks super-sexy, while giving me another ambiguous comment to deal with.

  I try to divert my thoughts. Scanning him, I notice he’s wearing a navy suit.

  ‘You look nice.’ My initial assessment is that black suits are more dashing on him, but let’s be honest – he could wear anything and still look fuckable.

  ‘Thank you. And you wear your denim shorts well.’ He smiles, trying to lighten my mood. ‘Actually, I’m here to ask if you could cook a meal tomorrow evening for me and three guests – also, I would like you to join us.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, that’s fine. Any food preferences?’ The dinner party is a breeze; the bombshell is that he wants me there.

  ‘I trust your culinary hands.’ He laughs at his own cheeky statement.

  ‘Luke, I never had you down for a comedian… I wouldn’t give up your day job.’

  He places his hand on his heart. ‘You bruise my ego.’

  ‘Rubbish – you have the biggest ego I know. An entire army couldn’t bloody wound you, let alone poor defenceless me.’

  ‘Kate Harper and defenceless? I’m afraid those two words don’t mix. I could think of some other descriptive words for you.’

  ‘No thank you, you should cut your losses before your tongue runs away with you, Mr S, or you’ll be cooking your own dinner tonight. I hear greasy burgers are easy to get hold of.’

  He takes a white tea towel from the island and waves it, admitting defeat. Have I won one Sutton battle?

  ‘You’re right; I would like to eat tonight.’

  He turns to leave, but stops in his tracks. ‘Kate, I should warn you I’m extremely particular about what I put in my mouth.’

&nb
sp; What the fuck?

  He exits the kitchen; I hear the black door close.

  I slump onto the stool and rest my head on the worktop. How much longer can I continue? Why have I fallen for the most unbearable, narcissistic, handsome, fuckable man?

  Considering my despondent state of mind the remainder of the day passes without any further problems, except various scratches I receive from the rose bushes while weeding the garden. I lay the island ready for dinner.

  Dear Luke,

  I didn’t know that employers should come with a health warning, as well as a good knowledge of CPR – as lurking can cause mental and physical harm.

  For this evening’s meal I have prepared shepherd’s pie, as I know you enjoyed this dinner the last time I cooked it for you.

  In the fridge is a mixed fruit flan. I did promise Jerry a slice, so be nice and share.

  I have also made chocolate cookies. You don’t have to share these, as Jerry has his own.

  I will see you tomorrow evening. Any requests, please let me know. Also, what time would you like dinner to be served?

  Kate x

  I arrive home from Pete’s, and Harry is still up and in the kitchen.

  ‘Hi, you’re up late.’ I walk towards her and give her a hug, as we seem to pass like ships in the night at the moment.

  ‘Raymond came over; he’s just left.’

  ‘Oh. How is he?’

  ‘Adorable.’ Harry wears her lovesick puppy face. ‘Valerie dropped off a dress; she said it was for tomorrow night, and to wear the black court shoes with it.’

  ‘What? I’m cooking a meal tomorrow night for Luke and three business colleagues. I’m sure I could have managed to dress myself. That man is… is like no one I’ve ever met.’

  ‘He does seem a bit…’ Harry looks to me with a smirk on her face, knowing full well what Luke is.

  ‘Control freak.’ I laugh; however, behind the giggle is an element of truth.

  ‘Kate, he wouldn’t have got where he is today if he didn’t like being in control. I guess it makes for good business.’

  ‘Really? Maybe you’re right after all: he’s loaded and I’m not. Says it all, really.’

  I arrive at the palace next day with my mac almost glued to my skin, drenched from a midsummer monsoon. The cleaners are busy in the house – it’s Wednesday. I head to the fridge in case Luke has requested anything special for this evening. Who am I kidding? I need a note, the notes that see me through the day.

  Dear Kate,

  I apologise for lurking in MY KITCHEN – however, now I know this has a profound effect on you, lurking might become an addiction…

  The shepherd’s pie was delicious.

  Do you think that I have control issues and can’t share with others? (Are you nodding in agreement?)

  Once again, there seems to be a cookie thief in this kitchen… I can feel a long run ahead.

  Could you serve dinner for seven o’clock?

  Luke x

  By five o’clock, I’m beginning to complete the food for this evening. I have carefully made mini bruschetta and chorizo pastry parcels for the appetiser, homemade ravioli with sundried tomatoes, smoky pancetta and chilli for the starter, and rib beef and all that goes with it for the main course. For dessert, I opted for crêpes that I’ll cook in brandy and freshly squeezed orange juice, and add mango sorbet, fresh raspberries and warm raspberry syrup.

  By six o’clock everything appears to be ready. The dining room looks beautiful, with candles flickering along the mantelpiece, and fresh flowers from the garden. The table is laid with white linen and crockery, allowing the room to remain simple and elegant.

  The smell from the various dishes is captivating. I know this is true, thanks to numerous visits from Jerry, who has been looking for leftovers or samples throughout the day.

  With twenty minutes to spare, I change for dinner. First, into a black lace underwear set, and sheer black hold-ups, which complement the tightly fitting knee-length dress. I allow my hair to remain down and straight, and after retouching my make-up I’m ready.

  At six forty-five, I hear the black door open. The hall echoes with the sound of unfamiliar voices, mixed with Luke’s sexy baritone. I feel extremely nervous, like a dutiful wife, or in my case the hired help… Cook.

  Luke enters the kitchen alone. ‘Kate, we will be in the lounge if you would care to join us.’

  With my back facing Luke I respond. ‘OK. I’ll just finish arranging the appetisers.’ I turn to him but he’s left the room. Thanks – I love talking to the bloody wall.

  I enter the lounge and the conversation stops. I place the plates of food on the coffee table as Luke stands to introduce me to everyone.

  ‘Everyone, this is Kate Harper. Kate, this is Zhan Abdul.’

  I shake his hand. He seems friendly, and is dark-haired and extremely attractive. I guess he’s in his early forties.

  ‘Please to meet you, Kate.’ Zhan’s accent is Middle Eastern.

  ‘Richard Smithson.’

  I shake the second man’s hand. He is a lot older than the other men, tall and lean with thinning grey hair.

  ‘And finally, Jack Watson.’ The shortest of the men and slightly rounded.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you all. I’m sure you’re all hungry.’ I gesture towards the appetisers. ‘Please.’ I smile warmly at Luke’s guests, although I’m feeling apprehensive – more with the situation than the company.

  Zhan Abdul is the first to tuck into the appetisers. ‘Kate, these are superb.’

  The other men promptly follow, clearing the plates in record time – oh shit, I should have made more.

  ‘Kate – drink?’ Luke asks me, with a real shitty tone in his voice.

  ‘No thank you.’ I smile at him, but he doesn’t react. My happiness ricochets back at me.

  ‘Kate.’ He passes me a glass anyway. Why bother to bloody ask me, then?

  I take the glass and make polite small talk, before excusing myself to attend to dinner. Really, I want some time away from Mr Happy Sutton.

  At dinner, I sit next to Luke and to my right is Zhan Abdul, which pleases me, as he’s the man I am most comfortable with. Unlike a certain Mr Luke Sutton – what’s got up his arse tonight?

  The starter is a big hit, which is no surprise. I clear the table and begin to serve the main course, which looks and smells divine. The men have healthy appetites; I, on the other hand, have lost my appetite, and judging by Luke’s face this has not gone unnoticed, yet he’s still unable to hold a conversation with me. I clear the table and return with the crêpes. It would seem that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Still, that does not seem to be the case with contemptible Mr Luke Sutton – or, as I’ve renamed him, the fucking miserable bastard. His behaviour tonight is making my blood boil.

  Luke remains deep in conversation with Jack Watson and Richard Smithson. Business talk, irrigation and foundation are all that I pick up on. It feels really awkward, and makes me wonder why Luke invited me.

  ‘Kate, you cook very well.’ Clearly, Zhan can sense the tension between Luke and me. It is obvious.

  ‘Thank you, Zhan. I find it relaxes me.’ Maybe Mr Happy Sutton should become a bloody chef.

  ‘My wife cooks very well too.’ He retrieves his wallet from his jacket, and shows me some family snapshots of his sons and one of his wife. I recognise her: she’s the woman I saw with Luke at Vista!

  ‘Your wife is beautiful, Zhan. How long have you been married?’ I try to show some interest in Luke’s guest.

  ‘Eleven years… I had to think for a moment there.’ He begins to laugh. ‘Do you want to get married, Kate?’

  ‘I guess – one day. When I meet the right person.’ I look down towards my plate, feeling my emotions surfacing. I also sense that Luke and Zhan are watching me, aware of h
ow I’m feeling. ‘Coffee, gentlemen?’

  I exit the room and return with coffees.

  I’ve had enough. Making my excuses, I clear the kitchen. My pissed-off mood does have one side-effect: the kitchen looks spotless.

  Lost in my thoughts, I don’t hear Luke walk into the kitchen. I turn and come face to face with him.

  ‘Is there something you need?’ I can’t even be civil to him.

  ‘No, Kate. Why are you cleaning?’ he asks, scowling at me.

  ‘I thought that was obvious. We’ve just eaten.’ What a prick.

  ‘You can leave that. I asked you to attend dinner. Rosie will deal with any cleaning tomorrow.’

  Attend dinner? Is he fucking joking? Oh no. The time has arrived for a Harper eruption.

  ‘Are you for real?’ He looks puzzled. ‘You’ve said two words to me all night, and that is stretching the facts. Why ask me to dinner and then bloody ignore me? Luke, you drive me crazy.’ I glare at him.

  He moves further into the kitchen, closing the distance between us. His stance becomes hostile and his eyes darken with rage.

  ‘Please keep your voice down, and watch your tone.’

  Watch my tone? Who the fuck does he think he is? My hands fist on my hips, matching his aggressive stance.

  ‘Kate, I think you’re being a little dramatic.’

  ‘Dramatic.’

  ‘Yes, Kate – dramatic.’

  ‘Dramatic.’ I shake my head, infuriated, and now I’ve turned into a fucking parrot repeating every word that escapes his mouth.

  ‘I’ve had a stressful day, so please don’t behave like a petulant child.’

  Oh my God, I want to scream at him.

  ‘Petulant child?’ says the parrot.

  ‘Yes, Kate, a petulant child. Is there something wrong with your hearing?’

  I can’t, and will not, stand here any longer.

  ‘That’s it! You want dramatic, Luke Sutton, then you’ve got it – and just for you I will behave like a fucking petulant child.’

  I storm into the hallway. He follows me. I grab my bag and coat from the cloakroom.