by Barry, Jill
He leaned forward. ‘Your assistant sings your praises. You obviously have the right attributes to help Mrs Robinson succeed. I just wonder whether you’re operating it efficiently enough, whether you’re charging out your time and your helpers’ time properly. From what you say, it seems you’ve built in a realistic profit on the cost of ingredients, fuel, etc. but I’d need to spend more time on the figures. There’s no question of any fee, Zillah.’
‘But you’re in business to make money too.’
‘If it makes you feel better, I’m happy to accept the odd cupcake for my elevenses. More than happy, in fact.’
She sighed. ‘I’ve been whingeing. I’m sorry. I don’t usually.’
‘When would be convenient for me to make a start?’
‘I was planning on tackling my spreadsheets tomorrow morning,’ she said. Wow, how sexy was that? ‘Not too early of course. But you won’t want to be in the office on a Sunday, surely?’
‘I need to collect my gear from the cottage and come in anyway. I might as well get some lunch at the pub. How about eleven o’clock at the office? If you’ll allow me, I’ll copy over your figures so I can access them on my pc. That way I won’t be in your hair for long.’
She nodded. He poured more wine into her glass and she didn’t protest. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘Could I at least pay for supper?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, topping up his own glass. He tapped his left ear. ‘I couldn’t hear that last remark. I really can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying your company, Zillah.’
‘It’s not too often I get to eat dinner with someone else. Unless it’s Ruby, of course.’
As soon as she spoke, she sensed the change in the atmosphere. Sensed her words had touched Hal. And when she looked into his eyes, she encountered an unexpected and overwhelming sugar rush of tenderness. It was as though he, as well as she, longed to reach out a hand to the other lonely soul across the table but neither would reveal their feelings.
Hal, as if he felt it safer to discuss Zak and the possibility of finding the singer some work, mentioned his thoughts about contacting the local radio station on his behalf.
‘That’s a great idea,’ Zillah said. ‘I’m sure he’d appreciate any publicity you can organise.’
She’d made the mistake of looking at his mouth. This was a no win situation and she felt as if all the breath was squeezed from her body. Zillah thanked her lucky stars when Hal saved the moment by picking up the menu again.
‘How about some pudding?’
‘I daren’t – not after that cartwheel of a pizza.’
‘Not even a scoop of vanilla ice cream topped with a little Strega?’
‘How decadent can you get, Hal Christmas? Ice cream and Italian liqueur – I so wish you hadn’t put that in my mind.’
The waiter hovered. ‘Two vanilla ice creams with Strega, please,’ said Hal.
Zillah didn’t argue. ‘We’ll be staggering home,’ she said.
‘We can hold one another up,’ said Hal.
She couldn’t help noticing his facial expression which showed he realised he’d made a crass remark.
He asked her if she could recommend a dentist to register with.
‘Sorry, Zillah! Not the most appropriate remarks for a dinner date.’
She found it difficult not to giggle.
‘Not that this is a date, of course. I, um, I realise that. Sorry. I’m digging myself deeper into a hole.’
‘Here come our desserts,’ she said, marvelling at the way their pent-up emotions of the last few weeks were being expressed.
‘I don’t normally indulge myself like this,’ said Hal.
‘Nor me. It’s positively sinful.’
‘Isn’t it?’
She wondered if he’d suggest having coffee here. If he didn’t, would she feel obliged to offer to make some at her place? She’d forgotten how awkward a first date could be. But this wasn’t a date. It was, she reminded himself again, a practical conclusion to a business discussion set in motion by a chance meeting.
Hal seemed to have gone a bit silent. How awful if he dreaded her asking him back for coffee. Perhaps she should suggest they book a cab then the driver could drop her off and take Hal back to Mickey’s pub. That would be safer than strolling home together, their hands so close they might as well be touching.
‘Would you like coffee?’
Zillah took a big breath. ‘I don’t think I can manage it, thanks.’
Hal signalled for the bill and reached inside his jacket pocket to produce a big, soft leather wallet.
‘I’ll just visit the washroom,’ said Zillah. ‘Maybe ring for a cab?’
‘Yes, of course. The waiter’s sure to know a firm.’
‘Don’t worry. I always use the same people,’ she said.
When she returned, they drifted outside. The tables were filling up now. Instinctively, Zillah moved closer to Hal as a group of boisterous young men surged down the street. They didn’t mean any harm and she thought they were just out having a good time but Hal put his arm protectively round her shoulders.
Somehow, without her knowing how it happened, he had both arms around her and she was winding her arms around him. Very gently, he took her face between his two hands. Very gently, he drew her closer.
Suddenly he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. Fleetingly she realised the youths had moved on so no raucous hooting or whistles of derision troubled the couple kissing in the quiet alley. The only sounds were of muted chat and laughter drifting like smoke from the restaurant’s open windows.
When the grumble of a diesel engine in low gear broke the spell, Zillah disengaged herself from Hal’s embrace. She cleared her throat and grabbed the taxi’s back door handle, avoiding the driver’s amused gaze.
‘Taxi for Mrs Robinson?’
‘Yes. Melbourne House, Henrietta Gardens, please.’
Silently, Hal followed her into the back seat and pulled the heavy door shut. Zillah wriggled away so she was huddled in the far corner. She fastened her seat belt.
Hal secured his own belt and they sat in silence, listening to the happy sounds of reggae percolating from the speakers. Zillah sensed he as well as she was concentrating hard on the passing street scenes and not taking in anything. Neither seemed able to break the silence. Fortunately it was a short journey.
‘Thank you very much. It’s been lovely.’ Zillah was out of the cab while Hal was still constructing a suitable comment that didn’t seem too pushy. Was this a defining moment?
He pushed open his door and joined her on the pavement. ‘Please, Zillah. Don’t shut me out.’
His plea, so simple yet so heartfelt, melted any last negative feeling she had. Was that what she hoped he’d say? It wasn’t in the least romantic. Yet, could she, dare she let her defences down?
Hal moved a little closer.
‘Do you want to settle up, Guv’nor? The driver called through his window.
‘Pay the man,’ she said, in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. ‘If you really want to come in, that is.’
*
She was very conscious of Hal’s tallness, his broad shoulders and masculinity as he followed her through the door. He waited until she’d secured it and as they faced one another, she smiled, seeing the anxious expression on his face.
‘Am I such an ogre?’ She walked towards the open sitting room door. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t answer that.’ She hesitated. ‘Or maybe you should. I realise I must be very difficult to deal with.’
He was at her side in a beat, taking her in his arms. He held her to him, burying his face in her hair, whispering her name over and over again. She clung to him, hands roaming his shoulders, his back and his chest, enjoying his taut muscles. She gave a little moan as he nuzzled her ear. Nothing mattered now. Only being in his arms and anticipating his lips upon hers. Their first kiss had shattered her resolve, sending her spinning into a vortex of indecision. She’d been grateful he kept his dista
nce in the taxi. When he said nothing, she’d realised how frightened she was of his letting her go.
No. She didn’t want to shut him out but she still wasn’t sure of her emotions. They changed from day to day, surging like waves upon her beloved Cornish shores. The barrier she’d constructed on first encountering Hal had set up prickly moments but now, on her own territory, she wanted him with an intensity that shocked her.
His mouth found hers. Their kiss deepened and sweetened, neither wanting it to end. When they finally moved apart, she stood there, gazing into his eyes, her fingers touching the pendant she wore so temptingly close to her cleavage. Hal traced his finger around the gemstone, traced its outline, his fingers feather-light on the delicate skin covering her collarbone. His touch sent tremors down her spine.
Being held in Hal’s arms seemed so right. But after all the bickering and bantering, the carping and challenging, Zillah knew he wouldn’t be content with cuddling. What if he thought of her as desperate? Needy? What could she say that wouldn’t sound either dismissive or too seductive? She was so out of practice.
‘You’re trembling,’ he said. ‘Please don’t be afraid, my sweet, lovely Zillah.’
His hands roamed over her shoulders and arms. Lulling her. If she wanted him to stop, she knew he would. But as his touch became more insistent, waves of pleasure melted the last shred of reticence.
‘I want to make love to you, Zillah.’ Hal’s voice was low, his tone urgent. ‘But you need to be sure, sweetheart.’
She caught hold of his hand and led him from the room and across the hallway.
‘I’m sure,’ she said.
*
Shocked into wakefulness by the clamour of the phone, Zillah’s memory of the night before kicked in as she headed down the hallway. She hurried to answer though it wouldn’t be a business call on the flat’s landline.
‘Zillah, my dear. How are those fearful moggies behaving?’
How typical of her landlady to begin a conversation like this.
‘All three are fine, Clarissa. They’re eating well and there’s nothing to report really. How are you enjoying your stay?’
‘Huh! I’m more than ready to come home. But my daughter-in-law’s in agony – pulled a muscle in her back trying to be Serena Williams, silly girl. So I’ve decided to stay a few extra days so she can rest up. It’s a case of sorting out meals for us all and keeping the laundry mountain from engulfing the household. Piece of cake except I miss my peace and quiet. And my cats, of course.’
‘Well, I’m not going anywhere but work for the next few days, so don’t worry about the divas. I’m piling up your post in order of arrival. Your timer light’s doing what it should. Oh, and I’ve found a flat-mate for the next few months.’ She’d suddenly remembered Zak.
‘Nice gel, I hope?’
‘She’s a he. The cats approve.’
‘Huh! Those little hussies are no judges of character.’ Clarissa lowered her voice. ‘I hope you didn’t find this chap over the Internet. My daughter-in-law seems to get most things that way.’
‘This chap’s a singer and I met him through a business acquaintance. Zak is a very charming man.’
‘Zak, ay? Might ask him in for a sherry one night. Now, I must go and walk this blessed dog. He’s taken to following me around. Can’t think why. Such absolute devotion’s hard to handle after the divas’ superciliousness. Goodbye now. Be good.’
Zillah felt her cheeks heat. What was that supposed to mean? Did her landlady think she and Zak were an item? But the connection was already cut, leaving no chance to discuss the rent surcharge. But whatever the amount, it would be shared by Zak. And Zillah’s bank balance would look a whole lot healthier between now and September. After that, Mrs Robinson might actually be running at a healthy profit. Dream on …
The events of the night before came very firmly to mind when Zillah went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. Hal’s note lay on the kitchen table.
Thank you for last night.
Zillah’s cheeks burned as she recalled their long kiss outside the restaurant and the subsequent events. Whatever had possessed her? She must have squeezed her usual weekly units into a matter of hours. Then there had been that awful, strained cab ride, wondering whether to invite him in but convincing herself he’d think she was propositioning him. Zillah groaned out loud and sank on to a chair, putting her head in her hands.
How would she get their relationship back on a professional level? She didn’t want to return to that frosty phase when they’d circled each other like prowling big cats. Equally, she didn’t want him to think she was desperate for love. It was far too soon for that. Far too soon to contemplate another man sharing her life. Guilt consumed her. Relief flooded her because at least he hadn’t hung around for breakfast. Had he forgotten they had an appointment that morning? This was what came of mixing business with pleasure and it served her right.
*
When Zillah drove on to the business park and headed for her building, she was surprised to see Hal already in the car park and sitting in his car. She was half an hour early on purpose, hoping to power up her computer and compose herself ready for him to copy her spreadsheets before he examined the darned things. There was no point in her analysing them again. Not until he’d used his bean counting skills to discover what she was doing wrong.
Hal got out of his car as Zillah locked her van. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I was just catching up with the cricket score.’
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘You’ve beaten me to it.’ Avoiding his eyes, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and rubbed at a non-existent mark on her windscreen.
‘I didn’t sleep too well,’ he admitted. ‘I, um, let myself out really early and went for a walk before I got into my car. Mickey made breakfast.’ Hal paused. ‘I told him I’d been to a party and crashed at a friend’s house.’
Zillah felt her cheeks burn a second time. Mickey must have noticed them leave the bar together last night. Of course he did, because hadn’t he given them a cheery wave and wished them a pleasant evening? This was awful. What had happened to her determination to keep a calm, impersonal demeanour? But Hal looked so gorgeous in that open-neck shirt the colour of sharp green apples. His legs seemed to go on forever in those well-cut dark jeans. She was finding it difficult to forget how wonderful it was last night, once more in the arms of a man tall enough to make her feel dainty. Once more to feel – oh but it was better to curb such thoughts. The most important thing in her life was her livelihood and she’d better remember that.
He unlocked the outer door and deactivated the alarm.
‘I’ll leave you to get sorted and come down at eleven, shall I?’
‘Right. Yes. Fine, thanks.’
He headed upstairs, without a backward glance. Had she really expected him to take her in his arms as soon as he’d closed the door on the outside world?
In her office, she called up the figures she needed to show him and busied herself until she heard him bounding downstairs.
‘All ready for you,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
‘You can check back to my first twelvemonth of trading. The current tax year’s up to date so far, except for yesterday’s function of course.’
‘I’m impressed.’ He sat down.
Immediately, Zillah bristled. ‘I like things done properly,’ she said. ‘Even if I’m not potential businesswoman of the year.’
She saw the hurt in his eyes.
‘I never expected anything less of you, Zillah. And a lot of businesswomen would give every pair of Versace patent leather pumps in their wardrobe to have your ability. You can take it from me, not everyone’s so professional.’
She didn’t know whether to acknowledge his fashion know-how or to thank him for the vote of confidence. What’s wrong with me? Tongue-tied, she stared at the wall.
‘If it helps, I’ll send these accounts to my email address. I don’t want you to think you’ve got to hang around here w
hen you’ve better things to do.’
Was he hoping she would stay around, and join him for lunch at the Golden Fleece, to discuss the way forward? Was she hoping he’d suggest this? Would one of them be disappointed? Zillah wasn’t sure whether the situation between had changed for better or worse.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I was only coming in this morning to try and figure out where I’m going wrong. I’m aware I need to attract more bookings and I think you’re probably right about my labour costs.’
‘I can come up with an analysis based on the last three months and talk it through with you tomorrow morning. How’s that?’
‘Brilliant,’ she said. ‘Shall I make you some coffee before I get on?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you. In fact, you can lock up when you’re ready. I’m done here.’
She made no attempt to detain him.
*
‘Mum, it’s me. There’s been a slight change of plan. Is it still all right if I drive over today?’
‘Darling, of course it is. It’ll be lovely to see you. We’re not eating till at least half-past one so you can sit in the garden with your father and drink homemade lemonade.’
‘See you soon, then.’
Zillah replaced the phone. She checked her emails. No new inquiries. Whatever Hal Christmas made of her bookkeeping, he couldn’t produce new clients out of nowhere. If only. The good thing was he seemed equally as keen as she was not to mention their night out. The whole thing had to have been alcohol-fuelled and he was probably relieved she hadn’t tried to hang around his neck. This way, they needn’t see one another until the working week began though she must spend time with him in the morning, having agreed.
She blocked out the image of the hurt in Hal’s eyes when she’d spoken so briskly to him. Now she had almost 24 hours to get her act together and that included convincing her stupid heart how low love and romance figured when it came to prioritising. Anyone with any common sense would tell her she was experiencing a knee-jerk attraction to Hal, because she’d been deprived of romance in her life ever since losing her beloved Daniel. She still missed the hugs, the tender touch on her cheek; the surprise single red rose with her morning cup of coffee. Well, she’d just have to make do with memories.