Acts of Kindness

by Heather Barnett

  Table of Contents

  Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Quote

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgements

  LORD SEEKS WIFE

  Heather Barnett grew up in Wiltshire and has a degree in English and French from the University of Leeds. Aside from writing, her interests are classic literature, cats and comedy. She is head of marketing at an agency near Oxford and lives by the river Kennet in Berkshire. Acts of Kindness is her debut novel.

  For more information on Heather and her books, please visit her website – www.heatherbarnettauthor.com or join the discussion on Twitter @WritesHeather.

  Acts of Kindness

  Heather Barnett

  First published in Great Britain by Serpentine Books

  This edition published in 2021 by

  Serpentine Books Limited

  www.serpentinebooks.com

  info@serpentinebooks.com

  Copyright © Heather Barnett 2021

  The moral right of Heather Barnett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN (epub) 978 1 9138 7406 3

  ISBN (paperback) 978 1 9138 7405 6

  For my parents,

  two of the kindest people I know.

  ‘Life is mostly froth and bubble,

  Two things stand like stone.

  Kindness in another’s trouble,

  Courage in your own.’

  Adam Lindsay Gordon

  Chapter One

  ‘Help. Help, please? I’m having a panic attack!’

  At the other end of the Tube carriage, a ginger-haired girl in her early twenties was sitting forward in her seat, one hand pressed to her chest, the other gripping the pole beside her.

  ‘Please, help me.’

  Her eyes darted around the carriage from face to face as she panted, the colour draining from her cheeks. Opposite her, a pair of Japanese tourists exchanged uncertain glances. The man on her right was leaning back, eyes closed, arms crossed high on his chest.

  Bella took a deep breath and made her way down the carriage towards the stricken girl, moving Tarzan-like from handhold to handhold in case the Tube surged back to life. On the way, her brain consulted its knowledge of panic attacks and came up with… nothing. She crouched down next to the girl, who was watching her, wide-eyed and pale.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t breathe, I need to get out!’

  ‘They’re probably waiting for a platform; it’ll go again in a minute.’

  ‘I know! But I’m having an attack!’

  Right. So, a logical explanation wasn’t going to relieve the symptoms. Bella resorted to comforting noises.

  ‘Okay, don’t worry. Shh. It’ll be fine. Try to breathe slowly.’

  Try to breathe slowly? During a panic attack? Was that the best she could do? Perhaps she should hold a paper bag over the girl’s face. A quick mental stock-check revealed she didn’t have a paper bag. She suspected a plastic one wouldn’t be well received. She was running out of ideas and variety in her comforting noises when there was a judder and the train lurched back into life. The girl seemed to be calming down: she sat back a little in her seat. Bella crouched awkwardly beside her; unsure if she was still needed or not. Eventually, she was forced to stand to ease her cramped muscles but she remained at her post, one arm around the pole next to the girl. The train pulled into the station and the girl got to her feet. As she passed Bella on her way out, she squeezed her arm.

  ‘Thank you, so much.’

  The doors slid open, the girl got out, and Bella found, for no reason that she could explain, tears had sprung into her eyes.

  Bella’s mobile rang as she sat down at her large, minimalist office desk, sunlight streaming in through the plate glass windows and revealing the dust on her collection of miniature cacti.

  ‘Bella Black speaking.’

  ‘Good morning, Ms Black.’ The voice was confident, professional. ‘My name’s Catherine Knight, I’m calling from Acorn Consulting about a role that’s come up here at the company. We believe you’d be an ideal fit; do you have a moment to talk it through?’

  Bella got up and shut the door that opened onto a larger, open-plan office. She’d heard of Acorn Consulting, of course, it was up there with the world’s biggest advisory firms. ‘I’m not looking for anything new, but—’

  Catherine cut her off. ‘Of course not, but we have an opening here for a digital marketing director that may interest you. A brand-new position. You’d be responsible for running inbound campaigns in EMEA across our suite of consultancy propositions. The role sits one rung below board level and the salary is commensurate…’

  Bella fought hard to stop herself accepting on the spot what was, almost, her dream job. Double the salary she was currently on – double! – as well as more responsibility and an employee benefits package that sounded like Mariah Carey’s dressing-room rider. The only downside was that it was based in the countryside, two and a half hours out of London.

  ‘Come for an interview and then decide,’ urged Catherine.

  An interview. Just an interview. Why not? By the time she put the phone down, she had agreed to be at Acorn Consulting at eleven thirty the following Tuesday. It was only later, as she gazed out through the window at visions of the five-star spa days her new salary could fund, that she remembered being called ‘Ms’ Black. That was odd, as the decree absolute hadn’t come through yet and officially, she was still a ‘Mrs’. Perhaps it was a slip of the tongue, or Catherine hadn’t wanted to guess at Miss or Mrs and get it wrong.

  At eleven fifteen on the appointed day, having arrived ridiculously early and parked in a layby for a while to kill time, Bella turned in to the main gates of Acorn Consulting. They were imposing, each topped with a carved stone acorn. She drove down the long, straight drive, noting with surprise a herd of deer by a lake over to the right. Catherine had forgotten to include working in a nature reserve in the list of benefits. Rolling down the window she breathed in the sweetness of the country air. The road was on a gentle incline and when she reached the top, she got her first view of the Acorn Consulting building. It was a vast stately home. Nothing was missing, from the sweeping stone staircase at the bottom, to the ornamental battlements at the t
op and the cedars throwing stark shadows across luminous lawns on either side.

  A discreet sign directed her around the back to the car park, which was shielded from the house by extravagant topiary. Starting to wish that she hadn’t killed so much time, Bella parked up and hurried back towards the main entrance, heels sinking into the gravel path. Another discreet sign, this time on the front door, invited her to ring the bell. She couldn’t hear it ringing inside but almost instantly the door opened and she was blinded by unnaturally white teeth. The teeth sat between lipsticked lips, which in turn fitted into place under a neat, lightly tanned set of all the other features one would expect to find on the average face. The voice that greeted her was American. That explains the teeth, she thought.

  The woman beckoned Bella in with a great, generous sweep of her arm.

  ‘Come in. You must be Bella. I’m thrilled to meet you. My name’s Kelly.’

  The woman’s demeanour suggested her whole life had been spent preparing for this, her chance to assist Bella Black. It seemed almost churlish not to think of something more momentous in response than ‘Thanks.’

  Bella walked in, feeling more and more disoriented. Had she come for a job interview or a dinner party? Her surroundings didn’t make things any clearer. The spotless tiled floor stretched away towards a grand staircase. A couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs and – sofas didn’t feel like the right word, but she couldn’t think of a better one – were grouped to one side, flanked by plants on marble pedestals. Four or five doors, all closed, led off the hall. The desk was bare. Nothing suggested this was an office; Bella looked around in vain for a water cooler, a telephone – even a bin, for God’s sake.

  Kelly was still displaying her teeth.

  ‘If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let Catherine know you’re here.’

  How? thought Bella. Telepathy? She felt a little silly when Kelly went around the back of a walnut desk and slid out a flat drawer containing a laptop and a phone. Of course. They clearly went to great lengths to maintain the authenticity of the place. If you flipped up a sofa cushion, you’d probably find a wireless charging station. Her bottom had barely touched down on the immaculate upholstery when a door opened and a smartly-dressed woman appeared, one hand extended for shaking. Bella leapt up.

  ‘Ms Black. I’m Catherine Knight. Good to meet you. Did you find us okay?’

  ‘Yes, no problems at all. Such a beautiful place.’

  ‘Shall we go ahead then? It’s a bit of a walk I’m afraid.’

  They made their way down corridors, up steps and through ante-rooms, Bella praying all the while that she wouldn’t be asked to orienteer herself back to the entrance hall as part of the interview. Finally, they reached a comfortable room, all buttercup yellows and golds, with full-length windows overlooking a walled garden.

  However, Bella noticed little of this because of the man who stepped forward to greet her.

  A flirtatious male acquaintance had once told Bella that whenever he met a woman for the first time, he made a point of seeing how long it took her to touch her hair. Touching your hair was, apparently, an unmistakable sign that you had registered a man’s interest and were open to it. Bella remembered this as her hand crept up towards her head. She yanked it back down, cheeks flushing red.

  ‘Let me introduce Ben Elliott,’ said Catherine, as Bella and Ben shook hands. ‘Our chief marketing officer. You’ll be reporting to him.’

  Another thing you left off the list of benefits, Bella found herself thinking. They sat down around a low table which was set out with tea and coffee.

  ‘You’ll have noticed that Catherine said will report to,’ Ben said, with a smile that had Bella accidentally fiddling with her hair again. ‘From our point of view, we already know that we want you for the job. What we’re here to find out is if you want to work for us.’

  Bella tried to look surprised, pleased and modest at the same time. She started to open her mouth, feeling she should ask an intelligent question, or at least prove that she was able to string a sentence together, which she hadn’t done so far in this room.

  Ben held up a hand. ‘Don’t say anything yet. I want to show you something that should make things a little clearer.’

  He picked up a remote. The oil painting across the room from her dissolved into pixels and was replaced with the Acorn Consulting logo. God, they were good at the authenticity thing!

  The logo, in turn, faded into white and was replaced by a shot of a woman, sitting in a room very like theirs. There was something about her that suggested royalty: she wouldn’t be out of place as the queen of a small European country.

  ‘Hello. My name is Isadora Faye and I’m CEO of Acorn Consulting. I review the reports prepared on every potential candidate for our vacancies, and using the detailed evidence they contain, I handpick those I know will complement our ideals.’

  The detailed evidence? Bella shifted a little in her gilt chair. This didn’t sound like the usual LinkedIn trawl.

  ‘I know you’re probably wondering what this is all about. This isn’t a typical interview. But then Acorn Consulting isn’t a typical company.’

  Isadora Faye disappeared, to be replaced with an aerial shot of the sprawling house and estate buildings. She continued in voice-over as the camera panned down to the front of the building.

  ‘Acorn Consulting was established by my ancestors over two hundred years ago. Back then it was known as Acorns & Company. This house was our family seat and we have operated from these lovely surroundings ever since. Acorn Consulting, AC for short, is a successful business, turning over forty-six billion pounds and making a net profit of four point three billion in the last financial year. No doubt you’ll have done your homework on us, and know that we are a multinational organisation, headquartered in the UK but with offices all over the world. We offer management consultancy services to businesses in sectors including financial services, IT, utilities, aviation and health.’

  Okay. This was sounding a bit more like what she had been anticipating, even if she hadn’t been expecting it via pre-recorded video. Bella took a sip of her tea and relaxed back into her chair.

  ‘Should you decide to join us here at AC, you’ll also play your part in delivering those services. For part of the time.’

  The camera stopped showing off the house and the long line of blue-chip client logos which had been trooping across the screen, and returned to Isadora in her chair.

  ‘That’s right. Only part of your time will be spent working for Acorn Consulting.’ The camera shot tightened on her face. ‘The rest will be spent working for our charitable concern, the OAK Institute. This is where I have to ask you to take a leap of faith.’

  Bella risked a curious glance at Ben and Catherine. They were both watching her. She looked back at the screen.

  ‘I can’t tell you what the OAK Institute does.’ Isadora paused and looked down the lens, unblinking. ‘I can promise you that its aims are for the good of humanity all over the world and there is nothing illegal or immoral involved. However, its work must remain strictly confidential. If you accept the job here at AC, you will go through a three-month induction, after which, if we feel certain you can maintain confidentiality, you will begin working for OAK.’

  Isadora’s face broke into a smile and the tinkly background music became positively jolly.

  ‘Now, I know that’s a lot to take in and you’ll have plenty of questions so I’ll pass you back to the team there on the ground.’ Which made it sound as if Isadora was speaking to them from a cloud. ‘I hope I’ll get to meet you in person very soon.’

  The image faded into the Acorn logo then back to the oil painting. Catherine and Ben were looking at her. The room seemed very quiet all of a sudden.

  ‘Erm.’ Oh God. What to say. Think of something sensible. ‘Erm, I…’ Nope. She couldn’t get any further than ‘Erm, I…’

  Ben stood up. ‘We’ve all been through this. We know exactly what you’re thinking. If
only you could work out where the hell the front door is, you’d be heading straight for it. I suggest we go and get some lunch. That’ll give you a chance to start getting your head around it all.’

  Will lunch be al fresco, she wondered. A circle of Druid-like figures ripping lumps of flesh off an unidentifiable barbecued sacrifice? As it turned out, although the dining hall was more ornate than your typical staff canteen, it was reassuringly normal. Ordinary-looking office workers sat around tables eating and doubtless complaining about how busy they were, just like in a million other offices across the globe. They served themselves from the buffet and took their food over to a table at which a man was already seated. Ben took charge of the introductions.

  ‘Bella, I thought you might like to meet one of my team. This is Oscar.’

  Oscar shook her hand with a shy smile. He was tall and wiry, and stooped a little as if he was uncomfortable with his height. From the side, when he stood up, he looked like a question mark.

  When they were settled at the table, Bella turned to say something to Oscar but stopped dead when she saw the look on his face. He was staring at her and when he saw he had her attention he widened his eyes to their fullest extent. Then he lifted his napkin by two corners, until a couple of inches of it were visible above the tabletop. The other two were sorting out glasses of water and his subtle movements hadn’t caught their attention. At the top of the napkin, he had written in capital letters: ‘SAVE ME’. He made certain she had seen the message before lowering the napkin. Her heart thumped in her chest and her cheeks glowed. Save him from what? What’s he scared of?

  Before her shocked brain could rally enough to frame a question, Ben grabbed a corner of Oscar’s napkin, snatched it off his lap and read it. Oscar’s spooked expression was wiped clean off his face and he let out one enormous laugh before shrugging his shoulders at Bella. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help it.’