Miss South

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Miss South Page 16

by Kay Williams

“I’m flattered,” Heronsgate smiled, giving me permission to say what I wanted.

  “There is this huge gap between us in things like wealth, status, popularity and education. Your friends were all very nice but I felt that gap with them. Even this morning I spent with Ignis was strained at times because the way I view the world is very different to his because he had things and money to access a different way of life. Like you had a limo pick you up in London, you donate thousands of pounds worth of car parts as if it’s a trivial thing for your company to do, you travel on a private plane, you get people to handle your baggage for you, your car was waiting, and you didn’t have to check-in at the hotel.”

  “Is that bad?” Heronsgate was frowning.

  “No. Time is money and you are a very busy man, I get that every second you can shave off your journey is very valuable in the boardroom. But these are things that are kind of fun for me because it’s like being spoilt, it’s not like my real life. Whereas it is normal for you. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ever since we met our friendship had been very easy. I have been swept along with your lifestyle and it has never felt like a gap between us. Talking to you is like talking to someone I’ve always been friends with, your sense of humour is generous and so easy to engage that we are back and forth without insults or misunderstandings. You’ve been comfortable with your lifestyle making it feel so normal that I haven’t yet embarrassed myself by squealing and gushing like your average fan.”

  “I feel the same way about you..”

  “When we kissed, I felt the gap. I suddenly realised who I was with and how strange it was that we were getting along so well so quickly. I don’t want that psychological gap to come between us but at the same time my bridge across it is a little rickety.”

  “I understand,” Heronsgate smiled and I didn’t miss how the edges of it looked relieved. “Imbalance is something I’m used to in any relationship, Ferris is my closest friend and he makes a considerable amount less than I do. When I’m comfortable with the person I am with, friend or otherwise, and I know that my generosity isn’t something that will be taken advantage of then I extend what I have hoping they will give back as much as they can. So long we keep sharing those things than our bridge remains strong.”

  “Do you blow the bridge up if people start to take advantage?” I asked.

  “I prefer removing the support struts one or two at a time.”

  “So when my popularity crumbles putting up with the press on my driveway and better coffee is my sharing.”

  “I was rather hoping that free copies of your books would be included,” Heronsgate teased.

  “I make more off the paperbacks, but I could probably stretch to giving you a free download.”

  Heronsgate laughed but his retort was cut off as the train pulled into the station and we climbed on board and sat down.

  “Tonight is hopefully about getting rid of Harper’s construction crew,” Heronsgate said, keeping to the bridge analogy as the train pulled out of the station. “I am not happy with the idea of using what we have to accomplish that.”

  “So I need to be on my best behaviour?”

  “That sounds very dull,” Heronsgate frowned.

  “How about we just enjoy the evening and let the tabloids interpret it however they like? It's gossip right so it is fairly harmless to be in the ‘Everyone Knows’ article.”

  “I don’t want to use you like that, Harriet.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t let you, but it’s my last night in New York and I’m making a one-off exception.”

  “Alright,” Heronsgate agreed.

  The restaurant was in sight now; a bright bauble in the middle of the river, reaching out I ran my knuckles down the back of his hand mirroring the way he had touched me the night he had picked me up from the bus stop after the incident at the auction. He hesitated and then opened his fingers letting me thread my own between his. He fetched his phone with his other hand and switched on the camera; he took more selfies than anyone I had ever met. I posed next to him as he fussed with the focus and just as his thumb hovered above the capture button I stole a kiss against his cheek making him flinch as he took the picture as if he expected me to blow in his ear as I had done before.

  He scowled at the awful result while I laughed.

  “I promise you, Harriet, I will end up with one good selfie with you eventually,” Heronsgate complained.

  The train rolled into the restaurant station and he let go of my hand, there was a waiter at the station who escorted us through a separate door than the other passengers were using. The restaurant was a huge open space that looked like it should have had more tables but a large portion of the room had been fenced off with shining brass posts and red velvet rope, the people within were all dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns, some of them were twirling gracefully about on the dance floor while others enjoyed tall glasses of champagne.

  They had to be the Everyone party.

  Even though they only occupied half the restaurant the owners had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that the ‘business as usual’ side of things didn’t interfere with their party. They used large houseplants and elegant table dividers to stop regular folk from crashing their event.

  Our waiter took us to a table with a semi-circle of soft leather as one chair with another plain wooden one on the other side. I slipped into the leather side and Heronsgate surprised me by taking a seat by my side instead of the one opposite me. The waiter even hesitated at his choice before accepting our drinks order, handing over the menus and removing the extra chair as he left.

  “I can sort of see the Everyone party from here,” Heronsgate said. “We won’t been completely visible to them but all they’ll need is a few blurry photos and their imaginations.”

  Heronsgate handed me a menu, he had been to the restaurant on more than on occasion and knew what was good and what was new, after giving us a few minutes the waiter returned with our drinks and took our orders. We chatted easily enough through the pre drinks but I was aware of Heronsgate growing slightly tense as we ate out starters.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I hate to say it,” Heronsgate complained. “But we are not causing the stir I thought we would.”

  “I guess tabloid journalists do take the occasional night off as well.”

  “It appears so.”

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  “Is that a trick question?”

  I smiled, took his hand and eased out of the chair, he was too much of a gentleman not to follow but I felt him tense as I led him to the small dance floor other diners were using.

  “Harriet, I can’t dance,” Heronsgate hissed and I detected the panic behind it.

  “I know, Ignis told me.”

  “What are you doing then?”

  Keeping hold of one hand, I slipped my free one under his arm so my hand rested against his shoulder and slotted my feet between his. Automatically his own free hand jumped to my hip. I found the beat of the music and began to sway us in time to the slow melody.

  “This is not dancing,” Heronsgate protested.

  “Don’t tell my dad that, he is convinced this is the most difficult step there is.”

  Heronsgate relaxed a fraction with a little amused snort, his hand moved into the small of my back and I let him guide me right up against his chest. I was so close to him I could smell that amazing aftershave of his again and could have traced my nose against the line of his cheekbone.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated, and even through the layers of cloth it made me giggle as it did so against a ticklish spot on my side.

  “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

  “Are we close enough do you think?”

  “No.”

  I looked up at his amused response and found there was barely an inch of fresh air between us, if we had been alone I would have kissed him, and from the look on his face he was regretting the public setti
ng as well. His phone buzzed again and it was only the firm grip he kept of my hand that stopped me squirming away. Heronsgate could have been evil and kept me pressed against this phone and there wouldn’t have been anything I could do about it, but thankfully our food was delivered and he escorted me off the floor and back to the table.

  My lamb shank looked as delicious as Heronsgate had promised me it would be and I would have dug in if I hadn’t noticed how pale he had become scanning the messages on his phone.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. “Is it work?”

  “Yes and no,” Heronsgate winced. “The reason we were weren’t drawing any attention is because the Everyone event is being televised and they just had an interview with us in the background.”

  “Who is the text from?” I asked.

  “My dad.”

  “Who is watching it because?”

  “He supports the charity they are fundraising for.”

  I laughed.

  I had told Lucy about my dinner and didn't doubt that she was just tenacious enough to have found out about the Everyone event from the restaurant's website. She was also just stubborn enough be up to the small hours to watch it so I checked my phone and wasn’t disappointed.

  ‘By the Door, Harriet! When I used to joke about your book getting you a celebrity boyfriend, I didn’t mean THE celebrity boyfriend! Put the poor man down before my brothers decide you are going to need a chastity belt!’

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I offered.

  Heronsgate hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him and we exchanged phones.

  ‘That is less of a dance and more of a declaration, I hope you know what you are doing.’

  There may have only been one line to the text but I saw between the words. His father obviously knew we were having a ‘fake date’ to prise out the claws Harper was keen to sink in and was advising his son to be careful or I was going to get hurt.

  No wonder Heronsgate was such a gentleman when he had him as a role model.

  Heronsgate half chuckled and half winced at mine and we turned our attention back to our dinners. Feeling as though we had done enough to garner the attention we had turned up for, we spent the rest of the dinner at the table, enjoying a leisurely meal and stories of other traumatic texts from our past.

  It was close to midnight when Heronsgate paid the bill that I was very careful not to look at, the Everyone event was still in full swing as we left walking close side by side and I got the feeling that we were being watched and it was difficult not to look over my shoulder to see if we were.

  It was a cool night and I was grateful for my shawl as we sat on the train waiting for it to pull out of the station. Heronsgate called the limo company and made sure that the car was waiting for us at the other end. Dropping the phone back in his pocket he lay his arm across the back of the seats and I had had just enough to drink that meant putting my head on his shoulder seemed like a good idea, and it really was when Heronsgate brushed a kiss against my forehead and curled his arm around my shoulders drawing me against his chest.

  The train pulled out of the station and I found myself feeling a little sad.

  “I'm going to miss you when I go home.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Heronsgate said softly.

  “When are you in the UK next?”

  “Five or six weeks, after the charity event.”

  “I'll expect regular texts, you know?”

  “I'm going to expect regular selfies, without you pulling faces.”

  I chuckled and listened to the odd patter of his heartbeat as the train began to pick up speed.

  # # #

  Henry Heronsgate

  A fruity scent was drifting up from South's hair and it had been teasing me all evening, she was warm, soft and relaxed against my chest, she hadn't protested when I wrapped my arm possessively around her on the dance floor and she wasn't pulling away from it now.

  I brushed a kiss against her forehead as the train pulled out of the station and it caused her to wrap an arm around my waist. I wondered if she would agree if I invited her back to my suite tonight. South cuddled in closer and took a breath of my aftershave as if she was an addict and she needed a hit.

  I pulled out my phone and opened my camera, I hated to admit it but it was amusing scrolling through the few photos we had, and remembering the events that caused the results did make me smile, but that didn't mean that I didn't want good photos as well. Without knowing I was taking another one kept her relaxed while I snapped her cuddled into my chest and shoulder.

  Putting my phone away I wished I had had the presence of mind to get her to book a longer package, but I had felt that a week would have been pushing my luck as it was and I had no idea how much money she had made from her sales, even trying to read her mind to get to the information had been useless. My psychic Abstract was only good at reading the surface thoughts of people, I had directed the conversation towards money once or twice but South had never thought of the exact figure, it had been frustrating to know that she was feeling financially comfortable at the moment but that the money wasn't enough for her to feel would help support the rest of her life by investing it.

  I was just going to have to be patient.

  Once she went home and between her and her publisher decided how they were going to move forward I was sure she would be happy to tell me about it. I just had to keep all my fingers crossed that they applied whatever pressure they could with her contract to keep her public, touring and relevant.

  My photo taken with the book had stirred up a frenzy of interest but the way it hadn't even started to fade told me people were now excited by her book because of the story itself, not just with my connection to it. Not once had South commented that people had turned up to her events and wanted to know where I was or what we were doing as friends or otherwise. The reviews and articles written about the signings had centred on how she engaged her fan base, and though there was always going to be people who would leave a one star review they were few and far between.

  If her second book was anything like her first than so long as she kept working as hard as she did I was sure that she could have more of a career as an author than she was planning for.

  I understood that accepting the change that would bring to her life was a big step, but she was also adamantly refusing to acknowledge the fact it was already happening. South's stubborn streak coupled with any leverage she had with her contract could see her kill her own career.

  I pushed all the thoughts back; that was tomorrow. South cuddled into my chest was tonight and as I wanted to keep her cuddled into my chest tonight that was what I needed to concentrate on accomplishing.

  “Harriet?”

  South lifted her head from my shoulder and smiled when I lowered my lips towards hers; but the kiss I was aching for never happened.

  A shudder rocked the carriage in a metallic wrenching, the roaring sounds of a crash further up the rail and the frightened screams of people shattered the peace. We didn't even have a moment of confusion before we were both thrown from our seats as our carriage hit the one in front and jumped the tracks before grinding to a stop.

  My hip, ribs and my shoulder had hit the seats on the other side of the carriage but the pain was manageable as I winced and pushed myself up.

  It was black inside the carriage, the lights had failed and distance twinkling of New York made no impression in the dark. I pulled out my phone and found my torch app giving some illumination to the carriage.

  “Harriet?”

  The response was a pained whimper and I struggled up, South was clutching one of the safety bars meant to be held by people who stood for the journey. Blood coated the rail and South had a wound on her forehead. I hurried to her and gently cupped her face, the gash was large and blood was running freely down the side of her face and soaking into her dress.

  “Harriet, say something,” I encouraged needing her to stay conscious unti
l the rescue. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and carefully pressed it again the wound.

  South didn't speak, but she did whine in pain and protest and weakly tried to push my hand away. I gathered her close and was relieved when she clung to me and put up with my attention to her wound.

  “It's going to be alright, sweetheart,” I whispered, the endearment sneaking past my usual filter in my worry. “Just try to stay awake for me, okay?”

  South's eyes fluttered and in my panic I linked my mind to hers in a way I had only ever done with my parents. I had inherited my Abstract gifts from my father but my mother was of course very aware of them and had helped in developing them as I had aged. I was grateful for her support now more than ever when I knew how to capture the faltering threads of South's conscious thoughts and strengthening them with my own while being careful not to send my own thoughts to her.

  “Try to stay awake, sweetheart,” I repeated and gently let her go. “I'm going to get us out of here, stay strong for me.”

  Leaving her with my phone and the light, I started to hurry to one end of the carriage but scrambled backwards when the carriage lurched with me and tilted down. The city lights vanished and beneath my feet I could feel the carriage scrape against the rail.

  I stopped next to South, she had wrapped her hands around the post and had gathered up her shawl to press against her wound, I could feel that she was find it easier to stay conscious the longer our minds were connected.

  I edged carefully back the other way, we were in the last carriage but should have been connected to the one in front. If one end was over the water then we might be alright to escape the other side.

  I glanced back to South, my phone wasn't illuminating the whole carriage but there was the risk that if I used my other Abstracts she would notice and remember, but given the size of her wound and the fact that the carriage was tittering on the rail I needed every advantage I could get.

  I took off, keeping a couple of inches off the floor and glided to the window, the panic was almost paralysing; more city lights littered the horizon, and a patch of heavy fabric was fluttering in the breeze, we were no longer connected the other carriage.

 

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