‘Max managed to persuade you?’ Her mother sounded surprised, which was understandable, given their history. ‘Well, that’s good news. Daddy will be delighted.’
Her mother’s obvious relief that she’d be close, held within the family circle, at least for a while, set up her nerves like a nail on a chalkboard. Was that the real reason why Max wanted her? Not for her talent, but to please her parents? Was that part of the deal he’d made with Jack?
Did it matter? She was in control. She’d do a job that would bring kudos to her own consultancy. Gain an international reputation. It wasn’t only Max who could go global.
‘We’re flying to Meridia at the crack of dawn on Monday,’ she said, without comment. Pleasing ‘daddy’ wasn’t any part of her plan. ‘I’m sorry, but I really will have to give lunch a miss.’
‘I understand. Another time. Will you be seeing Emma?’ she asked, changing the subject, unwilling to hang up.
‘I expect so.’
‘Well, give her my love. And make sure you wrap up well. Have you got a really warm coat? The kind of thing you wear in London won’t do. It’ll be much colder in the mountains.’ Then, maybe realising that she was behaving like a fussy mother, she let it go. ‘Louise, have you met…?’
This time it was her mother who stumbled, unable to say the word.
‘Patsy Simpson?’ Lou filled in for her. ‘Yes, we had tea together this week.’
You had time for that, that busy little voice whispered in her ear. In the busiest week of your life you still found time for tea with Patsy…
‘Oh.’
The sound was small, agonised, as if a knife had just gone in, taking her mother’s breath away. Louise knew exactly how she felt. It was the way she’d felt when her father had told her she’d been adopted. Still felt…
‘Was it…a success?’ Ivy finally managed. ‘Will you be seeing her again?’
‘We’re having dinner next week. I’m meeting her new husband. Max is coming with me…’
Unless he’d changed his mind. Without warning, Louise’s throat seized as her eyes filled with tears…
‘Louise?’
‘I’m sorry, Mum, really, I have to go.’
‘Yes, of course. If there’s anything…’ She caught herself. ‘Well, you know.’
Yes. She knew. But it was as if an invisible barrier had been erected between them; where there had been spontaneity, warmth, there was now just this horrible awkward politeness.
Her fault.
Ring Ivy. Don’t cut yourself off…
Max’s words echoed in the empty space where her family had once been. And not just his words. He’d betrayed to her feelings that she’d never suspected, an envy of the warmth of a family life he’d never experienced.
It was for him that she picked up the phone again, rang the familiar number. ‘Mum?’
‘Louise…’
‘I will come. Soon. I promise…’
Max stared at his cell phone, flicking through the names in its memory; the modern equivalent of a little black book. It was Saturday evening and he didn’t have a date. Hadn’t had a date since before Christmas. Longer. He tried to recall the last time he’d taken a woman out for the evening and discovered that it had been before his grandfather, the patriarchal William Valentine, had died the previous summer, precipitating the events that had thrown the Bella Lucia empire into such confusion.
He’d warned Louise that this business was hard on personal lives and he should know. But he was no longer involved in the day to day management of the restaurants. He was now responsible for the entire business and he had to think global, which, conversely, meant that his evenings-should he wish them to be-were suddenly his own.
He glanced again at the phone. There was only one person he wanted to phone but she was otherwise engaged with her dumb blond Australian, and, giving up, he tossed it onto the chair beside him, staring out unseeing over a Thames that reflected the gunmetal grey of the winter sky.
It was as if his memory had been overwritten and the only face in his brain’s database belonged to Louise.
Louise, her blue-grey eyes dancing, hair the colour of a wheat-field in summer, silk beneath his fingertips…
Louise, lips parted as if she were about to say something outrageous…
Louise, eyes more black than grey, lips soft and yielding under his own…
He turned abruptly from the window as the phone began to ring. Picked it up.
Not Louise but his mother.
‘Georgie?’
‘Max! Darling! How are you?’
‘Fine.’ He fought down the surge of feelings, of hope that for once she was calling him just for a chat. Like a real mother. ‘You?’ he asked.
‘Well, actually, darling, I’m in a little bit of bother…’
Left with the choice of calling Max and putting him straight, spending what was left of the afternoon working, or going home and playing handmaid to her unwanted guest, Louise decided on none of the above and went shopping, instead.
She found a beautiful coat in a bright, cheering red cashmere that came nearly to her ankles. Utterly gorgeous and warm enough to please a dozen mothers, she told herself as she opened her bag to take out her wallet. Then discovered that she was holding her cell phone.
Call him…
She shook her head, fighting off the memory of that moment in the kitchen when Max had held her, looked at her as if the only thing he’d wanted was to make her dream a reality. Before she could do anything she’d regret, she pushed her phone to the bottom of her bag out of harm’s way, found her wallet and paid for her coat.
Then she went in search of a hat, boots-no point in doing half a job-and threw in a scarf and lined gloves for good measure.
Then she undid all that good work by splurging on some gossamer silk underwear that had a tog value on the minus side of the scale.
Her subconscious did no more than raise its eloquent eyebrows. They said, ‘So, who did you buy those for?’
She ignored it.
Thermal underwear was taking sensible too far.
Cal did his best to interest her in going clubbing that evening, but she pleaded pressure of work. Instead she phoned Jodie, spending an hour telling her about meeting their mother and catching up with her news, then made a cup of cocoa, and, determined on a early night, went to bed with nothing for company but a couple of books she’d found about Meridia.
She hadn’t been to the gym all week and after yet another dream-filled night-this time spent chasing something unnamed, unseen that she was glad to wake from-she went and worked up a good sweat before going home and finishing off the Tim Tams for breakfast.
After that she spent the rest of the day at her office with her cell phone switched off and by the time she got home Cal had gone, leaving the flat a tip. Presumably the wilting flowers were his idea of thanks for her hospitality. She tossed them in the bin and got out the vacuum cleaner, glad to have something to keep her occupied. Stop her from dwelling on the fact that none of the messages on her machine had been from Max.
When the doorbell rang on the dot of five-thirty on Monday morning, Louise flipped the switch and said, ‘I’ll be right down.’
She slipped into her new coat, set the black velvet beret at a jaunty angle on her head, picked up her roomy shoulder bag and went downstairs.
Max was waiting in the car with the engine running.
‘Got everything?’ he asked as she slid in beside him, clipped her seat belt into place.
So much for Miss Business Efficiency of whatever year you cared to mention.
What was the point when she didn’t even get a ‘good morning’?
‘Everything important,’ she replied and ticking them off on her fingers, ‘Hairspray, lipstick, emergency nail repair
