by Mandy Baggot
‘Robert.’
‘I’m sure Robert said you were at my disposal.’
‘I feel confident he meant for business tasks not … cake … as inviting as that sounds.’ She swallowed, looking at Maddie’s expectant face.
‘Say “inviting” again,’ Chase asked her.
Her British stiff demeanour suddenly turned into jelly. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘We like the British accents,’ Maddie informed. ‘Jolly holiday,’ she said in full English pronunciation.
‘I might even call you Mary,’ Chase added, his accent a perfect imitation of Dick Van Dyke.
Isla didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There was no escaping this. The sooner she took them out the sooner she could get back. As she watched his daughters ready themselves – Maddie stretching the fingers of damp gloves, Brooke checking out a pouty expression in the reflection of the full-length windows – she knew there was no way she was going to get to the bottom of her blini issue today. Christmas preparation was cancelled as suddenly as the Central line at rush hour.
Eighteen
Portobello Market, Notting Hill
As they stepped into the crowded streets that flowed through the market stalls, the snow began to fall in earnest. This was no blizzard but, with a keen wind, it was enough for Brooke – the only one without a coat – to start trying to fold her body inwards against the elements.
Isla opened her mouth to make a coat-buying suggestion but then:
‘Brooke, where’s your coat?’ Chase asked her.
‘She doesn’t have one,’ Maddie answered.
‘What?!’ Chase exclaimed.
‘I mean, she does have one,’ Maddie elaborated. ‘One from Saks that Mommy got her, it’s blue—’
‘Shut up!’ Brooke hissed at her sister.
‘She doesn’t wear it,’ Maddie carried on. ‘Like ever.’
‘Shut up, brat!’ Brooke roared.
My God! Even when Hannah had been fifteen with no parents and no working lower limbs, her sister hadn’t ever made noises like a furious, venomous cobra. And how was the CEO of Breekers going to sort out this kind of anarchy in the ranks? Isla got her answer to this question when he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and stared at it like it held all the answers. So much for being Aaron’s hot King of Industry!
‘This,’ Isla exclaimed, her voice rising above the hubbub of the market, ‘is Portobello Market.’ She cleared her throat, feeling she should have an umbrella and a clipboard like the numerous London tour guides around the city. ‘It’s one of the most iconic and well-known markets in the whole of London and was, once, just a lone winding country path known as Green Lane.’
She looked over at the ornate sign on the side of number 177 declaring ‘The World Famous Portobello Market’ decorated in pale blue with red and gold writing. Inside were trinkets – magnets depicting local sites, old-fashioned prints of famous posters including Moulin Rouge, the J Howard Miller wartime picture of the woman in a red-and-white spotted headscarf declaring ‘We Can Do It’ and a canvas of Charlie Chaplin. There were hooks holding leather bags and signs saying ‘Banksys this way’. But outside, further along the street, were the traditional market stalls, which people came from across the world to browse around.
‘The country?’ Maddie queried. ‘In the city?’
‘Well,’ Isla said, turning her attention to the younger girl as they walked side-by-side, snowflakes collecting on their hair. ‘Everywhere was countryside to begin with.’ She sighed. ‘Until people started to build.’
‘Like the company you and Daddy work for,’ Maddie added.
‘Yes, Pumpkin,’ Chase replied, the phone going back into his pocket. ‘And now people need infrastructure more than ever. Houses, businesses, industry … it’s what makes the world go round.’
Ugh. Someone had obviously been reading the company manual. Isla remembered the thick document – if PDFs could be thick – she had been emailed when she had accepted the job. Even in her most junior starting position she had been expected to be up-to-the-minute with the company’s vision and mission statement. But, if she was honest, although she knew her job inside out, construction didn’t fill her with joy the way walking around this area of London did. There was something special here. Not that she couldn’t be passionate about construction when it came to winning a client or pushing through a difficult planning situation, but the reason behind her performance was personal motivation, pure and simple. She enjoyed her job because she was good at it and it suited her. She didn’t get excited about the price of cement or the degree of curve on glass. Chase Bryan obviously did. Maybe his cute talk about breeze blocks was what made the board hire him … and get rid of Big Bill, who was starting to feel like an old friend she should have tried to reach out to a little more …
‘Well, things are a little different in this area of Notting Hill,’ Isla informed the children. She took an inward sniff, side-stepping a street artist on a unicycle who was juggling Christmas baubles. ‘Tell me. What do you smell?’ She stopped walking then, feeling the rush of air as pedestrians edged past her, eager to get on their way to their chosen destination.
‘Boredom,’ Brooke answered quickly. ‘Total freakin’ boredom. I never knew you could actually smell it before today.’
Isla opened one eye and saw the girl shiver. Her hoodie was looking pretty damp and her hair hung in two dripping sections down her chest. How had her father let her leave wherever they were staying without a coat in minus temperatures?
‘I smell …’ Maddie began, ‘sugar … and caramel … and gingerbread and … trees!’
‘Yes,’ Isla said, opening her eyes fully now. ‘Me too. And chocolate … from that little bright blue shop just over there.’ She pointed, watching her companions’ eyes follow her lead. ‘And that’s why Notting Hill is one of the most interesting places in London.’ Isla breathed in, taking in the row of quirky, multicoloured shops that ran the length of this street. ‘Because you never know quite what you’re going to find.’
‘Daddy, can we get chocolate from the little blue shop, please?’ Maddie begged, tugging at Chase’s arm.
‘Sure,’ he answered. ‘I just need to make a phone call.’ He was already reaching towards his pocket.
‘Daddy!’ Maddie exclaimed in frustration.
‘Give me some dollars and I’ll take her,’ Brooke said, huffing a sigh.
Isla sensed that her immediate show of helpfulness was just because she wanted to get out of the cold. ‘It’s pounds,’ Isla said. ‘You’re in England now.’ She offered a smile.
‘Will a fifty do?’ Chase asked, pulling the note from his wallet.
‘Gosh!’ Isla exclaimed. She couldn’t remember seeing a fifty-pound note since she’d found a stash of cash in a shoebox under their parents’ bed after their deaths. ‘Haven’t you got anything smaller?’
Brooke snatched the note from her father’s hand, took Maddie’s hand, and began making strides towards the shop before anything more could be said.
‘Kids, huh?’ Chase offered, putting the phone to his ear.
‘I’m sorry,’ Isla began. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but … what exactly is the purpose of me being here showing you around Notting Hill?’
On the Tube she had suggested the children might like to see some of the famous London landmarks – Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye – but Chase had seemed set that they come here, so close to her own home.
‘To see the quirky little stores,’ he answered, a grin on his mouth.
Was that sarcasm? God, if he wasn’t the head of the whole company she would deliver an equal measure back.
‘You don’t like them?’ she offered. ‘Because people from all over the globe flock here in their thousands to visit this area, in particular, this market.’
She loved this market. Hannah loved this market. Today, on a weekday, it was slightly less manic than the shopping frenzy of a Saturday. But there was still
so much to see, something for everyone. From fruit and vegetables – traditional parsnips and swede to pak choy and choy sum – antiques – plates, Toby jugs, gold watches and rings with diamonds so big you could almost eat snacks off them – and clothing – everything from vintage chic from the sixties to knock-offs of whatever Kylie Jenner was currently wearing. Add in the Christmas stalls – fragranced candles, warm almond and exotic spice; wooden, hand-crafted Nativity scenes – providing every sort of present you could wish for: silk scarves, woollen hats, stuffed guinea pig toys. Actually, on closer inspection, the guinea pig toys were a little creepy.
‘I didn’t say I didn’t like the market but the stores …’ Chase began, phone coming away from his ear.
‘Shops,’ Isla corrected.
‘Do I need to say “ye olde” in front of that too?’
‘Perhaps just “historic”,’ she offered.
She watched him smile at her comment, then his cocoa-coloured eyes went from her to further up the street where Brooke and Maddie were just about to enter the chocolate shop. ‘To be honest with you,’ Chase began. ‘It looks like time stopped here in about 1950.’
Isla suddenly felt like a mother lioness who had just been told that her first-born was overweight and too slow to catch prey. She felt her teeth touch her lip and stifled the urge to growl. He was the boss. Even if he was proving to be an irritating pain in the arse. She didn’t have the time or inclination for sightseeing when he wasn’t even appreciating the seeing of the sights. And her head definitely wasn’t turned by the cut of his suit … although Aaron was right about the made-to-measureness of it.
‘You said that like it’s a bad thing,’ she countered.
‘Isn’t it?’ Chase asked. He was looking directly at her now.
‘I don’t think so,’ Isla replied. ‘Surely London, the world, would be a very boring place if everything was the same.’ She stretched out her arms. ‘Imagine if this road was nothing but sleek steel and skyscrapers like Canary Wharf? No “quirky little stores” or market traders.’
Chase felt his heart quicken a little at her words. He had thought about that. He had thought of nothing else over the last six months – divorce issues aside. But not in the same way Isla had thought about it. He was Mr Sleek and Steel now. He had to be. This project had to be the making of him. He didn’t know what he was going to do if it wasn’t.
‘You work for an international construction company,’ he pointed out.
‘I do,’ Isla answered.
‘Then your whole life is spent managing redevelopment.’
‘My whole life,’ Isla repeated.
Jeez, when she said it, it sounded way more dramatic than how he’d meant it.
‘That’s what you do, right?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Trouble-shooting, wasn’t it? People management?’
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I’m more about the problem-solving and smoothing out creases than I am about the actual proposals.’
So was he. Good. This was good. He had somehow landed someone who was going to be a real asset in getting Breekers London completely on board with the US office’s plans. He was expecting a little surprise, a bit of hesitance and doubt, but that was to be anticipated. It was a brand-new project. Untried, untested. But great things didn’t happen without a degree of risk.
‘Not that I don’t know my way around plans and proposals.’ She sniffed. ‘I’ve worked in just about every department.’
‘So, you know everybody, right?’ he asked.
‘Most people.’
‘All their little habits … and secrets?’
‘All their “quirks”?’ she offered.
‘Nice,’ he answered with a smile. ‘You’re thinking way ahead of me, Miss Winters.’
‘I hope you’re not asking me to be some sort of spy,’ she asked. ‘Because I would be quite uncomfortable with that.’
Those wide blue eyes were studying him now and then she put her hands to that Titian hair, brushing flakes of snow from it, her breath hot in the freezing air.
‘And,’ she continued, ‘although I’ve worked in every department of Breekers, espionage wasn’t part of my training.’
‘Really?’ Chase asked. ‘In New York that’s covered on Day One.’
Just as he thought, it took a second for the sentence to hit home and for her to then realise it was a wisecrack. He watched her cheeks go crimson.
‘Daddy!’
His eyes went across the street to Maddie, jumping up and down struggling to hold a giant foil-covered Santa, almost as big as her. Brooke had a smile on her face that told him he was getting no change from the note he’d given her.
‘Jeez!’ he remarked. ‘Is that chocolate? If she eats all that she’s gonna be sick.’
‘I hate to tell you, Mr Bryan,’ Isla stated. ‘If she eats even half of that she’s going to be sick. You see, nothing’s hollow in Notting Hill.’ She smiled. ‘And that Father Christmas is no different.’ She drew in an icy breath. ‘It’s solid, right the way through.’
His eyes went to Maddie, eagerly tearing at the wrapping.
Nineteen
Breekers London, Canary Wharf
‘Ladies and gentleman, nine minutes. I repeat, nine minutes.’ Aaron bit his nails as he hovered close to Isla’s desk. It was a horrible habit he had started since he stopped smoking six months ago. Isla had suggested vaping as an alternative because she had always been rather jealous of Aaron’s previously perfectly rounded nails he’d taken mani-pride in. But apparently trading nicotine for an untested, probably-found-to-be-poisonous liquid wasn’t a goer. And Aaron had said Mr Wong from his local Chinese went through more vaping cartridges than he made chop-suey.
‘Isla,’ Aaron said, picking up her stapler. ‘Nine minutes.’
‘I heard you,’ Isla answered, eyes still on her screen. There was a structural issue with the hospital design, according to the latest civil engineer. She’d had an email thirty minutes ago, just after she’d got back to her desk from cleaning chocolate Father Christmas off her fingers. Maddie had only managed the head section before she started to feel nauseous and Isla had carried the headless Santa on her lap all the way back on the Tube.
‘Then … Sugar. Honey. Ice Tea … why aren’t you getting ready?’ Aaron questioned. ‘Putting on a bit of Sexy-Mother-Pucker or tousling that gorgeous hair?’
She still didn’t look away. She needed to call up the latest plans. ‘Because I’m not auditioning for a film?’
Aaron slid his arse on to her desk, fingernails still being gnawed. ‘Where did he take you?’
Where were these plans? She couldn’t seem to find them in the file they were supposed to be in. She clicked open a second folder and hoped Aaron would leave her alone for what was left of the eight point five minutes.
‘You’re the envy of the office you know.’ He moved even closer. ‘The women and the gay men.’
It was no good. She couldn’t find what she was looking for and Aaron was apparently going nowhere. ‘If you really must know I took him and his children to Portobello Market.’
Aaron began to cough like he’d swallowed a rather large, sharp thumbnail that had managed to puncture a lung.
‘Sorry.’ He tried to catch his breath. ‘For a second there I thought you said you took the CEO of Breekers International to a market.’
‘A world-renowned market,’ Isla responded. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Well, Isla, why would you do that?’ Aaron exclaimed. ‘Look at him! Look the fuck at him!’
He twisted and jerked his head in the direction of the boardroom just visible from Isla’s desk. She looked. Inside Chase was leaning over papers on the desk and tapping at a keyboard. Yes, he was attractive. Tall and broad-shouldered and Hannah wasn’t wrong about the pin-up status. But he was interfering with her carefully constructed December.
‘The guy is luxury, Isla. All the way.’ Aaron sighed. ‘I would have taken him up the Shard.’ Another breath left him. ‘Whizzed him thirt
y-two floors to the Oblix and wowed him with the whole sophisticated dining experience.’
‘We had his children with us,’ Isla reminded him. ‘And he actually asked to go to that particular area of London.’
Aaron looked like he’d swallowed a golf ball as well as those fingernails. ‘He did?’ He shook his head. ‘Seriously?’
Isla nodded, wheeling her chair away from her desk. Where was her leather portfolio containing her iPad? She might need to take notes in this meeting. Wasn’t that what Go-To Girls were expected to do? ‘And, as you should know by now, I think it’s the best part of London and I live there.’
‘Antiques!’ Aaron exclaimed. ‘Of course! That will be it.’ He smoothed down his tie. ‘Men like that will have started a collection of some sort for investment purposes.’ He sighed, his attention on the windows of the meeting room. ‘I always fancied half a dozen Banksys myself.’
‘How many minutes now?’ Isla queried, standing up and opening one of her drawers.
Aaron checked his watch. ‘Seven, no, wait, six and fifty-nine seconds … fifty-eight … fifty—’
‘Good,’ Isla answered. ‘I’ve got time for a coffee.’ She moved to leave.
‘No!’ Aaron exclaimed, sliding off her desk. ‘You definitely haven’t. And you don’t want espresso breath for the meeting, do you?’
Isla stopped walking. ‘At least I don’t smell of Mexican beer.’
‘Do I?’ Aaron asked, cupping a hand over his mouth and blowing into his fingers then inhaling.
‘Not today,’ she answered. ‘And I don’t need a breath mint or any hair products.’
She held Aaron’s gaze and something about his look was off. She kept her eyes steady, using an expression she had perfected when scrutinising unscrupulous councillors until …
‘All right! It was Denise’s idea,’ Aaron spat out.
‘What was Denise’s idea?’
‘Well, you being Chase Bryan’s Go-To Girl and everything, Denise deciding that in reality, as much as she hated it, he was never going to look her way unless he was into women from an era when the Mini Cooper first came out—’