London Bound (A Heart of the City romance Book 3)

by C. J. Duggan

  ‘Of course, I never would have believed it. Most young people are all about binge drinking and partying and all that nonsense so I was dead against her coming here at first, but when Penny assured me Katherine was different, it did give me some comfort.’

  I smiled, sipping my tea and glancing over the rim at Jack, who raised his brows at me as if he were impressed by my character assessment.

  ‘Of course, Katherine being a virgin certainly convinced me of her character.’

  I spat my tea out, coughing and spluttering, my cup clattering onto the table. I could barely see through my watery vision as I tried to force my words out.

  ‘What?’ I croaked, my eyes wide with horror as Nana looked back at me calmly.

  ‘Oh, don’t get yourself all flustered, Katherine, you should be grateful to your mother for telling me, it sealed your fate.’ She settled in her seat looking expectantly at Jack, who seemed frozen in place. ‘So, as you see, Jack, I don’t have to worry about Katherine bringing home strange men, or going out on the prowl.’

  I WANTED TO DIE.

  Taking advantage of the change in atmosphere, Vera interjected. ‘Joy, I think we better take some of that pain medication, now that you’ve had something to eat.’

  ‘Oh, bring it in here, Vera, I really don’t want to …’

  ‘Won’t be a sec,’ Vera announced, grabbing onto the wheelchair and moving her so quickly that Nana’s protests were disappearing down the hallway.

  Leaving me alone with Jack in stunned silence.

  ‘I’ve slept with lots of men!’ I blurted.

  Jacks brows disappeared into his hairline.

  ‘Oh God, no, not like that. I mean, I don’t know where the hell that came from or why my mum, who I am incidentally going to divorce as my parent, why she would even say something like that, when I am most definitely not a vir—’

  ‘Kate.’

  Jack’s voice stilled me.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, so earnestly I didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned. Did he think I was lying, that I really was a virgin and too embarrassed to admit it? Oh God, there was no fixing this without digging myself into a deeper hole, which actually seemed like an attractive idea if it meant I could cover myself in dirt and hide from this mess.

  ‘Listen, I’m going to go, can you tell your nan goodbye for me?’ he said, placing his teacup onto the coffee table and standing.

  Oh God, he could not leave like this.

  I jumped to my feet to follow him into the hall.

  ‘Jack,’ I said, hating how panicked I sounded, and how completely blank my mind went when he turned to look at me, stopping just before the front door. I had nothing.

  He broke the silence for me. ‘So, are you ever allowed out on the prowl?’

  I closed my eyes, grimacing. ‘I’m going to kill my mother.’

  Jack breathed out a laugh. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I wouldn’t be too harsh on her. It sounds like it was a pretty genius way to get you here.’

  I shook my head, more miserable than I had felt in my entire time here. ‘Some days, most days, I wish I hadn’t.’

  Jack placed his fingers under my chin, forcing my eyes up to look at his, dark and serious. ‘Well, Katherine Brown, I’m mighty glad you did.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  I suppose I should have sought permission. Respected the answer that I knew would be a no. I had felt the pangs of guilt in the pit of my stomach that day when I stole into Nana’s secret room. But after her deliberate attempt to humiliate me in front of Jack, I suddenly didn’t feel so bad about what I was about to do. In fact, I was damn well looking forward to it.

  My credo: What the devil doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.

  It raised an interesting question. As much as I was living a lie, tiptoeing around upstairs while I waited to access Nana’s designer Shangri-La, I wondered: How honest was I going to be with my audience? Would a patched together, DIY vlog really build my empire, regardless of the priceless beauty at my disposal? I had seen enough endless vlogs on YouTube with bad lighting, crooked cameras, shoddy sound and cheesy cutaways and I didn’t want my work to be like that. I had a unique treasure trove as my backdrop; I had to get it right. This was my opportunity, a time to take it to the next level, to stop whining about my life and create a new one. One that made me happy and kept me busy, so busy that I was out of Nana’s way and, more importantly, out of Jack’s.

  If I wanted to avoid him before, Nana’s ‘confession’ of my virginity was enough to keep me away from him forever. Simply hearing the purr of his Aston Martin coming and going through the week was painful enough. Another perk of Nana’s secret room was that there was less road noise, less distraction. My new normal saw me rolling out of bed, faking my way through an elegant breakfast spread with Nana and Vera, who had generously extended her hours after the fall, before excusing myself to paw over my now-typed ideas of what kind of blog I wanted ‘Kate on the Thames’ to be, where I wanted to take it, and what I wanted to achieve from it.

  A tentative tap sounded at my bedroom door. I smiled to myself, glancing at the time and knowing exactly who it was and what the visit meant. Vera was predictable to a fault, and I loved her for it.

  ‘Come in,’ I called, barely glancing up from my screen as I touch-typed about vintage clutches. I heard the jingle of Vera’s tray before I saw her.

  ‘You’re still at it?’ she asked, amazed.

  ‘No rest for the wicked.’

  ‘How about we get some fresh air in here.’ Vera placed the tea tray down before crossing the room to open up the terrace doors.

  ‘No, don’t, it puts a glare across my screen.’ I shielded my laptop, squinting at the intruding beam that appeared now that the curtains were drawn open.

  ‘Well, turn around then,’ Vera said, continuing to open the door, letting in a cool blast of air and the distant noise of street traffic. ‘It’s not good to be cooped up all day, every day.’

  I slunk deeper into my chair with scowl. ‘Well, I don’t have much choice, do I?’

  Vera crossed her arms and looked at me pointedly. ‘You’re letting a 78-year-old woman dictate your life? Really?’

  I flinched at Vera’s outburst, it was just so … not Vera.

  ‘That 78-year-old woman just so happens to be the key to me staying in London.’

  ‘In other words, she owns you.’

  ‘Pretty much,’ I said, directing my attention to my keyboard as I tapped away again.

  ‘So what would happen if you walked out the door right now?’

  I sighed; Vera meant well, but just because she was essentially a full-time carer now didn’t mean she understood the dynamic between me and Nana, even if she had more to say about things these days. I kind of missed the days when she kept her thoughts to herself.

  ‘It wouldn’t be worth the worry, believe me.’

  ‘So what, she would ask questions, glare at you, forbid you to go, insult you somehow?’

  ‘All the above.’

  ‘When’s the last time you even saw the sun?’

  ‘It’s England, Vera, nobody has seen the sun all week.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she said, stepping out onto the terrace, shifting the chair and examining the space. ‘It could do with a good clean out here, but this could work.’

  I thought back to the last time I had stepped out on the terrace, and more importantly the reason why I had been avoiding it. I had managed a whole week of staying out of Jack’s way, and in that week I had been more productive and more contented than ever before. I really didn’t want to mess with that.

  ‘Seems like your neighbour Jack sits out here far more often than you do.’

  My head snapped up. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, aside from the empty beer bottles, his space is quite clean.’

  Curiosity told me to take a peek, but I held my ground, feigning indifference. Why should I care? I’d probably see the remnants of romantic candlel
ight suppers with his beloved; I was content to spare myself from that reality.

  ‘I can’t sneak out of the house like a teenager any more, Vera, those little windows of time are more exhausting and stressful than anything. I am better off just keeping out of the way and abiding by the rules.’

  ‘And does that include raiding Joy’s closet?’

  I flinched, snapping my computer shut instinctively. ‘Sorry, what?’

  Vera sniggered, heading back to the bedroom door. ‘Don’t worry, Kate, your secret’s safe with me.’

  I slunk back in my chair, defeated. I had thought myself so clever, so secretive in my mission, and my cover was blown already. How could I be so careless? And now Vera knew – how long before Nana figured it out?

  I pushed myself away from my desk, twirling around on my computer chair and moaning like a melodramatic teenager.

  The doorbell pulled me out of my despair. It sounded again and I wondered who it could be, and if I should stay in my safe space.

  No, Kate! You are not going to become this person. You are far too young to turn into a hermit, and your conversational skills aren’t strong enough to talk to yourself forever. Get a bloody grip.

  I had almost convinced myself that I was a well-rounded, confident person who was capable of anything, when Vera’s voice called up the stairs.

  ‘Kate, it’s for you!’

  Chapter Seventeen

  I had fought so hard to avoid that smile, tried my absolute best to wipe it from my memory, and tried not to overthink the meaning in the last words he had said to me. But despite all of my efforts, Jack Baker stood at my front door, looking up at me expectantly and holding a very big box.

  ‘Don’t look so excited,’ he said.

  I came to stand next to Vera, my narrowed eyes trying to decipher the label, but not getting very far: it was in Chinese.

  ‘Unless there’s a puppy inside, I’ll try to contain myself.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope not, I don’t see any air holes,’ he said, lifting and examining the box.

  My attention shifted from the box to Jack, waiting for him to shed some light on the object in his arms, and his presence in my foyer. A huge mistake, because watching his mouth break into a blinding smile was enough for me to forget all about the bloody box, and his bloody girlfriend … well, almost.

  Jack’s eyes flicked to the box. ‘It was left on my doorstep, but it’s for you,’ he said, tilting it to the side to reveal ‘Kate Brown’ printed in black marker on the top.

  ‘For me?’ I asked as Jack dumped the deceptively heavy box in my arms. I made a valiant effort not to think about just how strong his beautiful arms must be to have held it aloft for so long. I struggled with the parcel, more confused than ever.

  ‘Did you order something?’ Vera asked, trying to examine the label.

  ‘No, I haven’t … ah! My lighting!’ I carefully placed the box on the ground and began tearing at the gaffer tape. ‘I don’t believe it, I ordered this weeks ago, I’d completely forgotten about it …’

  I paused mid-tear, looking up at my captive audience, who were poised for the big reveal. I had ordered a video studio lighting kit from eBay weeks ago. I had been so inspired and excited to do this for real, to vlog like a pro, and now it had arrived, just when I needed it the most. Now I was truly ready for my very first shoot; procrastination and delay were no longer a possibility, the time was now. ‘Kate on the Thames’ was ready shoot!

  ‘Lighting?’ Vera questioned.

  ‘Ah, yeah, just some heat lamps, you know, for the cold winter months ahead,’ I said, standing and dusting my hands off.

  Jack looked at me as if he wasn’t buying it. ‘Heat lamps?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, pushing the box aside with my foot.

  Jack folded his arms and leant against the door jamb. ‘You have been pretty reclusive lately – you’re not operating an illegal drug trade from the attic, are you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I scoffed.

  ‘Well, not in the attic anyway, is it, this secret business,’ Vera chimed in.

  I cut her a dark look. So much for her keeping quiet. My secret didn’t feel safe, not with Jack’s and Vera’s obvious curiosity; my anxiety only worsened when I heard Nana’s cut-glass voice slicing up the passage.

  ‘What is all this racket? Honestly, I can’t hear myself think.’ She limped along the hall, her walking stick clunking more heavily these days. Vera and I stepped instinctively in front of the box like a couple of naughty school children.

  ‘Look who’s here, Nana, Jack from next door!’ I said, a little too enthusiastically. I watched the oily mechanics of her brain work. She was probably thinking of another humiliating story to share at my expense.

  Sensing the same thing, Vera stepped forward.

  ‘Kate was just about to head out for a bit.’

  Wait, what?

  My attention snapped to Vera, my eyes boring into the back of her head as she came to stand next to Nana.

  ‘Where?’ Nana asked, instantly agitated by the thought of my going out into the world, a world that, until now, I’d had no intention of visiting today.

  ‘Oh, just with me, Joy, we won’t be long.’ Jack’s voice from over my shoulder had me turning so fast I almost tripped over the box.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed.

  Jack simply winked before holding his arm out as if he wanted me to take it.

  ‘Well, Nana Joy, you always said that unless Kate had a reliable chaperone …’ Vera added helpfully.

  Nana weighed up the image before her, as if deciding just how evil she was going to allow herself to be this morning. As much as I dreaded my forced expedition with Jack, I was relieved that she was at least distracted from the box at my feet.

  ‘How long will you be?’

  My shoulders slumped. For the first time, I had wanted Nana to object, to forbid me to go. Now she was actually going to give me permission, with the one person I had been trying to avoid? Bloody typical.

  I felt Jack’s hand at my arm, slowly guiding me toward the door.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing, Joy, Kate’s safe with me,’ he said.

  And as I stepped begrudgingly through the doorway, catching the cheeky grin from Vera, I glanced at Jack and mumbled under my breath.

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  According to Jack, there were many more ways to experience London, other than a red phone box selfie and a rushed fish ’n’ chip pub lunch.

  He gave no hint to our destination; we simply walked along the shop fronts of Gloucester Road, leading down onto the corner of Palace Gate and Kensington High Street. We veered away from the high street, crossing the main road and making our way through the gateway past an ice-cream stand, where, with a knowing look, Jack went over and paid for two vanilla and boysenberry ice creams.

  ‘It’s not a proper summer walk without ice cream melting over your knuckles,’ he said, handing me a waffle cone.

  I took a moment to sneak a look at this man, a man who was trying to win me over with ice cream. Our walk had been fairly awkward, most of it in silence, so I’d focused on taking each step, one foot in front of the other.

  We walked into the park, along the gravel paths, under the trees, past all the adorable dogs and leading up to the grand, sweeping grounds of Kensington Palace, the jewel in a green crown.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been here! The royals are practically our neighbours,’ he said, standing before a circular pond dominated by an impressive marble statue of an eighteen-year-old Queen Victoria in her 1837 coronation robes.

  ‘I feel like a such an underachiever,’ I admitted, crunching on the end of my cone and staring up at the statue.

  Jack laughed, his ice cream long gone, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. He tilted his head, indicating for me to follow.

  ‘This way.’

  We cut across a corner of lawn, momentarily
seeking refuge in the shade of the plane trees, before walking toward ornate black-and-gold gates. Kensington was the perfect backdrop at the end of the long gravel drive. An imposing, uniform block of red-and-brown brickwork and windows galore overlooked the immaculate green, sprawling lawns that flanked either side of the drive. I gripped the gates, smiling at the majesty of the place, until I was asked to step aside so a couple of tourists could take a happy snap.

  Ordinarily I would have also been jostling for a photo op, but it occurred to me: I live here.

  This is my neighbourhood … and I don’t know anything about it.

  A beautiful oasis of quiet and calm in the centre of the city, west of The Serpentine, where centuries of royals had taken a stroll, and it was just around the corner from my home; did it get any better than that?

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  My attention snapped so quickly I didn’t need to give an answer. Jack was already laughing at me.

  ‘Well, all right then, this way.’

  Surrounded by the beautiful evergreen grounds of the palace, we sat at a table in The Orangery, which was once the setting for Queen Anne’s sophisticated court entertainment, with soaring ceilings and classical eighteenth century architecture. My heart and smile lifted as our Royal Afternoon Tea was delivered to the table. I tried to be cool, like it was no big deal, but my widened eyes roamed over the selection of tiny sandwiches: smoked salmon and cream cheese, Coronation chicken, roast ham and English mustard, cucumber and fresh mint; not to mention the orange and currant scones with Cornish clotted cream and English strawberry jam and the piping-hot pot of Earl Grey. The situation was made more surreal by Jack’s large hands reaching for a dainty sandwich. He paused mid-chew, cocking a brow in question. I simply shook my head and smiled.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  Jack began to chew again, watching me. ‘What for?’

  ‘For breaking me out. I certainly never predicted my day would end up like this.’