by Mandy Baggot
Isla nodded quickly. ‘Just remember one thing,’ she said, halfway out of the door. ‘If he does anything, and I mean anything to upset you …’
‘Yes?’
‘It might be me who’s auditioning for Women Who Kill.’
Hannah grinned. ‘Okay,’ she replied. ‘Now hurry up and get changed!’
Thirty-Five
The Royale, Hyde Park
Chase slipped a pill into his mouth and swallowed. Colt had messaged him. Directly. A text that simply said. Let’s talk. He didn’t want that. Why would he want to talk to the man who had his wife and his children 24/7? Their relationship had been over the second Colt had chosen to re-enter their lives and destroy everything Chase had worked so hard for. Colt was the reason he’d fallen off the edge of the highest precipice he’d ever faced. Colt had always been the reason things turned sour. And he wasn’t ready to revisit those feelings. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. He knew his marriage was over; knew, despite everything, it had been a risk from the outset, but he was done with having his face rubbed in it. And Colt had to accept that. What was done was done and Chase’s moving on was only going to be achieved by moving away from Colt.
‘Daddy! You look hot!’ Maddie remarked, spinning into his bedroom and looking him up and down.
The concierge had conjured up a tuxedo that was almost made-to-measure. He looked ready for business and that was what he was going to focus his efforts on: wowing Rod Striker and sounding him out about the prospect of bringing Breekers’ new venture to his part of London.
‘You can’t tell him he looks hot,’ Brooke interrupted. ‘He’s your dad!’
‘How about saying I look “splendid”?’ Chase suggested.
‘Splendid,’ Maddie said in her best British accent.
‘What time does the woman with fake eyebrows get here?’ Brooke asked, yawning and stretching and almost knocking her earbuds out of her ears.
‘Any second now,’ Chase responded, looking at his watch. ‘And, Brooke, no fire alarms, in fact, no fires period, no smart-mouthing Denise and no worrying your mom to death on social media.’
‘Jeez!’ Brooke exclaimed. ‘What the hell can I do?!’
‘We could watch Elena of Avalor on Disney Channel,’ Maddie suggested.
‘That’s for babies,’ Brooke answered.
‘How about a movie?’ Chase countered, walking into the lounge area and looking for his wallet.
‘Saw?’ Brooke suggested.
‘No freaking way,’ Chase said.
‘You’re Next?’
‘Nothing higher than a G rating.’
‘G! Come on!’ Brooke exclaimed. ‘PG-13.’
‘Brooke, your sister’s only nine,’ he reminded, strapping on his watch.
‘She’s mature for her age.’
‘I’m not sure I’m mature enough to watch someone being cut up by a jigsaw,’ Chase said.
‘A jigsaw?’ Maddie asked, looking a little confused. ‘How do you cut someone with a jigsaw?’
‘Let’s watch it and find out,’ Brooke suggested, leaning into her sister’s face.
‘Listen, stop,’ Chase said, taking hold of Brooke’s arm. ‘Let’s work a compromise here.’
‘I’m listening,’ Brooke answered, taking control of her arm back and folding them both across her chest.
‘PG rating and that’s my final offer.’ He really hoped the PG classification hadn’t been altered too much since he’d last watched one.
‘Colt let me watch an NC-17,’ Brooke blurted out.
‘He what now?’ Chase responded. Fury was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.
‘Devon came for a sleepover and Colt let us watch Friday the 13th.’
He was going to call Leanna as soon as he got out of his hotel room. How could Colt be so stupid? He knew the answer to that. Because he was stupid. He had a whole, long track record for stupid.
‘The music was loud and creepy,’ Maddie informed with a scowl. ‘I had to put my headphones on to drown it out.’
God, he couldn’t hear any more. ‘PG rating,’ he emphasised. ‘And I’ll be checking with Denise.’
Brooke smiled. ‘If she hasn’t succumbed to the chloroform by then.’
He pointed a finger at his elder daughter. ‘That is not funny.’ He sighed. ‘I know it sucks that I have to go out and I can’t take you two with me but it’s—’
‘Work. We know, Daddy,’ Maddie answered with a heavy sigh.
‘And I’m doing it for you, right?’ he said, looking to Brooke. ‘So you can have the Apple devices and the grungy boots.’ His gaze went to Maddie. ‘And the cute rainbow bows.’ Chase touched the bow in Maddie’s hair and she giggled.
There was a rap on the door of the suite and Chase checked his watch. Shit, he was late for his car and for collecting Isla.
‘That’ll be Denise,’ he said, making strides to answer it.
‘Just preparing the anaesthetic,’ Brooke answered.
Chase opened the door and swallowed. Denise was wearing a figure-hugging red dress that didn’t hide an inch of her and she had bright lipstick to match. High stilettos were on her feet and his first thought was, if she had to escape the suite for flood, fire or an act of God, she wouldn’t be able to run. He opened his mouth to say something and settled for ‘Come in.’
‘Don’t you look gorgeous?’ Denise frothed, reaching out to brush manicured nails over the lapels of his tuxedo.
‘As do you,’ he responded, backing away slightly.
‘Isla is a lucky, lucky girl,’ Denise said, wagging a finger playfully. ‘A Christmas date with the handsome New York boss.’
‘Is it a date, Daddy?’ Maddie chimed, eyes growing larger.
‘No,’ Chase said quickly. ‘It’s not a date. It’s work. I told you.’
‘Isla is real pretty,’ Maddie said.
Yes, he agreed with that wholeheartedly. The red hair and the blue eyes were an appealing combination … and she made him laugh. It had been a long time since someone had made him laugh. He swallowed, suddenly aware he hadn’t given his younger daughter a response. He went to reply …
‘And she likes buildings like you do,’ Maddie continued. ‘And Asian food, and cake and—’
‘And she rides the subway without having to read the signs,’ Brooke added. ‘That’s pretty cool.’
She had done that on the Tube. Even though he had navigated his way around New York for years he still felt compelled to look, to check he was on the right platform, heading in the right direction. Isla just instinctively glided on and off the trains like it was the easiest skill in the world. In fact, she kinda glided through everything like life was easy … and with a disabled sister he knew that couldn’t really be true. She was just doing so much better than him.
Maddie pulled at his jacket sleeve, drawing him down to her height. ‘It could be a date, Daddy,’ she whispered. ‘Mommy has Colt now. You could have Isla.’
He smiled at his nine-year-old. ‘Are you kidding, Pumpkin? When would I fit in a date? I work too much and every spare second I have I want to spend with you.’
He reached out and tickled her ribs until she squealed for mercy. He straightened up, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket and preparing to leave. ‘Besides, I’m sure Miss Winters has a guy already.’
‘She doesn’t,’ Denise jumped in quickly, large red patent leather bag dropping down off her shoulder spilling curling tongs, pantyliners and a grubby teddy bear keyring on to the carpet. ‘Sorry,’ she said, bending to gather up the mess. ‘Isla is single. Has been since way before Andy Murray won Wimbledon.’ Items back in her bag Denise sighed. ‘Such a lovely girl. Intelligent, kind, never a gossip …’
So she was single. But why would knowing that change anything? She was a colleague he had to keep sweet and off the scent of Notting Hill being the prime location for his project, that was all. And he still hadn’t checked the plans concerning Beaumont Square …
‘Okay, I’m gonna go out to
the car now.’ He kissed Maddie’s head. ‘Be good for Denise.’ Brooke was already nodding her head to whatever track she was listening to through her headphones. He was going to get nothing more from her. He turned his attention to Denise. ‘Denise, if there’s a problem, any problem at all, just call my cell and I will head right back.’
Denise shook her head. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she answered. ‘I took note of all the extinguishers and fire blankets on my way up from the lobby.’
He forced a tentative smile until Denise began to laugh. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Bryan, I have enough snacks and scary movies in this handbag to keep even the worst delinquents entertained. You go and have a nice time … with Isla.’
A deliberate wink was offered and, as he rushed through the door, he no longer had time to worry if all manner of Freddy Kruegers were in her purse.
Thirty-Six
Beaumont Square, Notting Hill
Isla parted the curtains and looked out of the window. White flakes were dashing past the pane and doing their best to obstruct her view of the street. Chase was behind time and that meant they would be late to the party. She didn’t like being late to parties. She liked to get there early, walk in perusing the people who had somehow got there before her, then position herself with a great view of the entrance so she could see exactly who would be in her orbit. If you were late, everyone who wasn’t late had the upper hand.
‘He will be here soon, won’t he?’ Hannah commented from her position by the fireplace, trying to attach a rather vile-looking wooden rocking horse bauble to a string of festiveness she was creating.
‘I hope so,’ Isla responded.
‘Because I wouldn’t want Raj turning up when you’re still here.’
‘Why not?’ Isla asked, looking away from the window. ‘I thought it was just a movie.’
‘It is … it might be … it’s just I wanted to do the whole opening the door, showing him in, bringing in the bottle of Vimto and glasses I’ve put on a tray ready.’
‘Vimto?’ Isla queried, a smirk on her lips.
‘What’s funny? Raj doesn’t drink. You know that.’
The doorbell rang and Isla jumped at the sound. She hadn’t seen a car pull up. She checked the street outside. Still nothing.
‘Is it Raj?’ Hannah asked in a fluster. ‘Does my hair look okay?’
‘You look lovely,’ Isla told her. Hannah was wearing a midnight-blue top she had helped her change into earlier and she was pretty sure it was new. Claudia was a great one for shutting shop when she fancied a trip to TK Maxx.
‘Don’t say anything,’ Hannah said, wheeling her way to the door. ‘Actually, no, yes, say you’re just on your way out … but don’t ask him about his day or his nan because they are my conversation starters.’
‘Okay,’ Isla replied. She made sure Hannah had got Ronnie through the doorframe before she slipped out her phone to check for any message. There was one. On my way, Miss Winters and an emoji of a snowflake. At least he hadn’t forgotten.
She suddenly realised she couldn’t hear Raj’s deep baritone but a higher voice. One she recognised. She headed out into the hallway.
‘Mrs Edwards,’ Isla greeted her neighbour. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘No, dear,’ Mrs Edwards responded. ‘No, it isn’t all right.’
Isla looked to Hannah. Purdy was on a lead by the old lady’s feet.
‘She’s seen Verity from number eleven in the square,’ Hannah said.
‘And that’s unusual because …’ Isla said.
‘She was wearing a bright yellow hat and she was carrying a computer and she was measuring.’
Isla shook her head. What was Mrs Edwards’ obsession with measuring? Perhaps she had been watching too much Homes Under the Hammer. Weren’t they obsessed with square meterage?
‘Well, perhaps yellow is in this Christmas season,’ Isla offered.
Mrs Edwards looked at her like she had scored minus figures in Mastermind. ‘It wasn’t a bonnet, dear,’ Mrs Edwards said severely. ‘It was a hat like you have on in that photo on your mantelpiece.’ She took a breath. ‘A hard hat.’
Really? Well, Isla hadn’t had Verity pegged as the hard-hat-wearing kind but she herself wasn’t really, only on site when it was required. The photo Mrs Edwards was referring to was the one when she had met Lord Sugar. Hannah had got it framed for her and written #SisterApprentice on the back.
‘I think they’re going to do a dig,’ Mrs Edwards stated. ‘For television.’ She closed her eyes as if recalling something. ‘What’s the name of that programme with the scruffy ginger man who wears that green felt hat?’
‘Time Team,’ Hannah announced. ‘I quite like that show. If my history lessons had been more about digging up treasure I might have done better at it.’ Hannah stroked Purdy who had jumped up and pressed two paws to her lap.
‘My Tommy loved that programme. It reminded him of his days as a museum curator.’ She sighed. ‘There were evenings his kippers went cold because he spent too much time with Neanderthal man.’
‘Didn’t you ask her what she was doing, Mrs E?’
‘I did,’ Mrs Edwards stated. ‘Because she was sniffing around the rose bush I planted for Tommy after he passed.’ There were tears forming in the old lady’s eyes.
‘Well, what did she say?’ Hannah inquired.
‘She told me to mind my own business and then … she said I’d find out soon enough, at the proper time, through the proper channels.’ Mrs Edwards shook her head. ‘So secretive. It’s not right.’
‘She told you to mind your own business!’ Hannah exclaimed in horror. ‘Who says that in Beaumont Square? How dare she?’ Hannah wheeled herself towards the still open door. ‘I’m going over there.’
‘Hannah, wait,’ Isla said, grabbing her sister’s shoulder and steadying her. ‘Don’t do that. Not now.’ She may as well have said ‘not when I’m going out and leaving you alone’.
‘I wanted to welcome them to the square,’ Hannah stated. ‘I wanted to share Mum’s special recipe lasagne with them, and they tell Mrs E to mind her own business!’
‘Don’t get upset, dear. I’ve faced-off worse than her back in the day.’ Mrs Edwards sighed. ‘I just want to know what’s going on.’
Mrs Edwards using the phrase ‘faced-off’ would normally have made Isla share a smirk with Hannah, but her sister was all for wheeling across the street with all guns blazing and stopping her before Chase turned up was her only priority.
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ Isla blurted out.
‘You will?’ Mrs Edwards exclaimed, sounding nothing short of joyful.
She would? Why had she said that? Hannah was looking at her sceptically. She needed to reassure them both so she could enjoy Colin Matthews’ party without worrying about Hannah getting into a fight with their new neighbour or Mrs Edwards researching medieval coinage.
‘Yes,’ Isla said as a black Mercedes pulled to the kerb. ‘I’m going to go over there tomorrow and get to the bottom of whatever needs to be got to the bottom of. I promise.’ She smiled at them both then stepped back to scoop up her clutch bag from the console in the hall. ‘Enjoy your film, Hannah, and … don’t grill anything if you think you might fall asleep. I’ll see you later.’ She waved a hand. Skipping past Purdy’s attempt to claw at her not-worn-more-than-twice high sheen fifteen denier stockings she descended the snow-covered ramp, praying to Angel Gabrielle that Colin was serving his homemade mulled wine tonight. Because she really need a big, fat vat of it.
Thirty-Seven
Electric Cinema, Portobello Road, Notting Hill
His Go-To Girl looked incredible. Wearing a green and black dress, like nothing he had seen before, she had slid into the backseat next to him looking every inch catwalk ready … but somehow even better. There was nothing over-the-top about Isla, everything was just natural and … perfect. Her make-up was light, her hair not lacquered into place and those auburn waves touched her shoulders, snowflakes like tin
y diamond droplets intermingling with its bronze hue. For a second he hadn’t known how to even greet her. His well-practised business bravado had left him the moment she had smiled and reminded him he was late and they ought to get going. And she had said ‘ought to’ not ‘oughtta’.
What followed was a lesson in all things Notting Hill. There was the bookstore they had used for the film. There was Mo’s Restaurant, an apparently eclectic cross of food popular in the UK in the eighties – fondue and faggots – and food from the Deep South of the US – fried chicken, catfish and grits. Isla described how her parents had loved the restaurant from its bare board floors to its bright red walls and portraits of owner Mo’s grandparents on each lavatory door. Hannah had thought the eyes of the paintings moved. Isla had eaten chicken drumsticks and giant knickerbocker glories.
And with each anecdote he had laughed, really laughed, as Isla told him more and more about this corner of London. But with every story came the realisation that what he was planning to do would take all that away. Sentimentality truly sucked for him. So, instead, he had quickly reverted back to business mode and changed the conversation, talking about her other Breekers projects until the driver pulled the car to a halt.
‘We’re here,’ Isla was already reaching for the handle of the door.
‘Hey,’ Chase said, leaning over and putting his hand on hers. ‘The driver is paid to open the door for you.’ He smiled as he took in her expression. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never used Breekers cars before.’
‘Well … I live in London,’ she reminded him. ‘I go most places on the Tube. And I like the Tube.’
He shook his head. ‘You are an enigma, Miss Winters.’
‘And along with the comment about my practicalities I am also going to take enigma status as a compliment too,’ she answered.
It was then he realised his hand was still on hers and he suddenly felt the need to apologise. ‘Sorry. I should let you …’ Where was the driver to do his door-opening job?
‘Food and drinks are going to be in the Electric Diner next to the cinema,’ Isla informed, moving both her hands to her clutch purse.