Tempted by Trouble

by Liz Fielding

  Freddy didn’t look impressed. Well, she wasn’t sure she’d have believed her, either. …I had to spend the morning filming a television programme; I didn’t want to do it, honest, but I didn’t have any choice… Not the world’s most convincing excuse.

  ‘I suppose this is why you’ve been swapping your shifts, letting other women take them when you’re too busy for the day job? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?’

  ‘I never left you without cover,’ she said, wondering why on earth she was feeling so guilty. It wasn’t as if he’d paid her for the day she’d missed. ‘It’s why I can’t work on Saturday. Rosie, that’s the ice cream van,’ she explained, ‘is booked for a wedding.’

  ‘I see. And yet I seem to remember that not long ago you were asking me for extra hours because of yet another financial crisis at Chez Amery.’

  ‘It was all very sudden, Freddy—’

  ‘And then, of course, there’s the small matter of the dress you ruined.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The Honourable Miss Pickering, the young lady whose dress you drenched while you were flirting with her boyfriend, brought in the receipt. She expects compensation.’

  ‘A few drops of water wouldn’t ruin a linen dress,’ she protested.

  ‘She said it was wild silk.’

  ‘Not in a million years. She’s trying it on.’

  Freddy reached out, touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘No, my dear. I think that would be you.’

  She took a step back. ‘Me?’

  ‘Little innocent, Elle Amery. Leading me on with those big eyes. Promising me. Soon, soon… But always making me wait a little longer. All lies.’

  ‘Freddy,’ she said sharply, hoping to make him snap out of it, get a grip. She backed away, stumbling against a chair. He was on her before she could move, trapped against the edge of his desk, the wall to one side, Freddy the other.

  ‘I’ve been good to you, Elle. So good to you. And so patient.’ She tried not to flinch as he stroked her jaw, but almost fainted as his thumb brushed over her lips. He caught her with his other hand, his fingers biting into her arm as he held her up, pushing her back against the desk with his body. ‘Very good and very patient and it’s time to stop playing the innocent little girl with me.’

  ‘Freddy…’ This time the word was squeezed through her throat as he leaned closer.

  ‘But you’re not a little girl any more, are you?’

  Oh, no. No, no, no…The words were filling her head but they couldn’t make it through the fear blocking her throat, a great hard lump…

  ‘I saw the way you looked at that man. He left a note and his telephone number, but I won’t have you picking up men right under my nose.’

  This was her fault.

  Freddy had always been protective of her. She’d been so young when she’d started working for him and he knew her history, the trouble she and her family were in. She’d been grateful for his help, even though she’d always known, on some subconscious level, that it was more than a fatherly interest. That she needed to take care.

  But the job had been too important and she’d ignored the warning voices, pushing them to the back of her mind. And everything had been fine, under control. Until this moment, she had never felt threatened by him.

  ‘I’ve seen you with him. Walking across the Common when you should have been here, with me…’ Noooo…

  If she didn’t do something, scream, use her knee, fight him, he was going to touch her, kiss her. Do something much worse.

  Cleaners. Where were the cleaners?

  But it was as if her vocal cords were set in concrete and, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, nothing was getting through from her brain to her limbs.

  His breath was on her cheek, his mouth inches from her own and the further back she leaned to escape him the more vulnerable she became.

  She was close to blacking out, gasping for breath, when a sharp rap on the door had Freddy spinning round, leaving her slumped against the wall, struggling for breath.

  ‘Who let you in?’ Freddy gasped. ‘We’re not open.’

  ‘A cleaner was just leaving but I’m not here to eat.’ Sean stepped from the shadow of the lobby and into the office, his face set in the expressionless mask that she’d seen once before.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at work, Elle, but when I went to the house your grandmother told me that Mr Frederickson had called and asked you to come in early.’

  ‘This is a private staff meeting—’

  ‘I can see exactly what this is…’ Sean’s voice was so cold that Elle shivered ‘…but your quickie over the desk is going to have to wait until I’ve passed on a message.’

  What? Then, bypassing the ‘quickie’ remark, ‘What message? Have you found Basil? Where? Where is he?’ It came out as little more than a croak.

  He didn’t answer, simply handed her a postcard with a picture of Brighton Pavilion on one side. On the other was a brief message:

  Thought I was a goner, but it turned out to be a gallstone. Spending a few days by the sea. Keep an eye on Rosie for Lovage. I’ll be home at the weekend. Basil.

  ‘He’s okay,’ she said.

  ‘Apparently. RSG is the Royal St George. But it’s a hospital.’

  Sean turned away from her flushed cheeks, tousled hair, the unfastened top button on her shirt, calling himself every kind of fool.

  He’d seen it on that Saturday night, when Freddy had pawed her and she’d smiled right back at him.

  He’d seen the way she’d blushed when Sorrel had teased her about the man, changed the subject when Geli had been rather more forthright. The way she’d brushed aside his warning that Freddy’s interest was more than fatherly.

  Idiot that he was, it had never occurred to him that she would go to such lengths to keep her job. Keep her family. Even when she’d told him that she would do anything for them.

  Damn Basil. Damn Rosie. Damn his own foolishness for falling for the blushing innocence. No one that innocent could have played him so sweetly, drawing him in despite his determination to run, not walk away. Left him weak with frustrated longing with phone teasing innuendo.

  That she was her mother’s daughter there could be no doubt. While he’d been daydreaming about days on the river, walking her through the wild flower meadow that he’d regenerated, his head in the clouds, she’d have had him over Rosie’s counter that first Sunday if her sisters hadn’t come home unexpectedly.

  He didn’t have a problem with that. She was free to do what she wanted, with whom she wanted. It was her dishonesty that curdled in his gullet.

  At least with Charlotte there had been no pretence.

  But Elle had made him believe in the possibility of forever, made him want it. Him. Sean McElroy. The man who’d seen it all and had known it was all hogwash, pie in the sky, a cloud cuckoo land fantasy from the day he was born. Who always kept relationships casual, never got emotionally involved. Who wasn’t going to mess up his life grabbing for something as ephemeral as love, fall into the trap of caring enough to get hurt. Fall in love.

  That he couldn’t forgive.

  But it finally explained why she was adamant that Sorrel should not take a job at the Blue Boar. Elle was the sacrifice, although not much of one if the way she’d been panting for it was any indication.

  He stopped, turned.

  Stupid, foolish girl. Why hadn’t she gone to someone, asked for help?

  Elle watched Sean walk away. He was going to leave her? He really believed she’d been a willing participant?

  While fear had paralysed her, anger sent a shot of adrenaline surging through her and as Freddy made another grab for her she handed him off, jamming the heel of her hand beneath his nose then walked away.

  Sean, far enough away to confirm that he’d been about to walk away and leave her, had apparently changed his mind and was coming back. Too late. She walked past him without a word.

  ‘Elle…’
/>   She didn’t look round, didn’t stop.

  Behind her, the door of the Blue Boar was flung open. ‘If you go now, Elle,’ Freddy called after her, ‘you won’t have a job to come back to.’

  ‘Constructive dismissal. Sexual harassment. Assault. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor,’ she said, not bothering to turn around, not missing a stride, the adrenaline still pumping hard. She’d been listening when her sister had been talking about employment law.

  About to add that the Honourable Miss Pickering could go whistle for her dress, she didn’t bother. Freddy had been lying about that. She’d known it the minute he’d said the dress was silk.

  Behind her, she heard a car door close, the throaty purr of its engine and Sean pulled alongside her in the Jaguar she’d once borrowed with such a light heart.

  ‘Get in, Elle,’ he said, leaning across, pushing the passenger door open.

  One glance confirmed that he looked as grim as she felt but she didn’t slow down from the headlong charge that was taking her home. She had to keep moving. The minute she stopped, the adrenaline would run out and she’d collapse in a shivering heap. She simply told him, in the fewest syllables possible, to leave her alone.

  He cruised along the kerb, keeping pace with her. ‘At least let me take you home.’

  ‘You left me.’ She kept walking. While her legs kept moving she was in control. ‘I can’t believe you thought I was lying back and taking one just to keep my job.’ He didn’t deny it. ‘Well, I did tell you I’d do anything for my family. I guess you believed me.’

  ‘If you’d seen it from where I was standing…’

  ‘I am not my mother,’ she declared. ‘I am not your mother either!’

  Realising that she was attracting attention from the bus queue, she crossed the road and walked across the Common. Sean abandoned his car and came after her.

  ‘Shall I take you to the police?’ he asked.

  ‘And say what? It’s his word against mine. He’ll say I was willing and you’d back him up, wouldn’t you?’ she snarled.

  She took out her phone as she walked, leaving messages for both Sorrel and Geli on their voicemail not to go near the Blue Boar on any account.

  Sean kept pace with her but did not speak again, made no attempt to touch her, hold her, comfort her. He simply walked with her until she reached her gate and then watched her go inside.

  Elle went straight upstairs, stood under the shower, letting the water mingle with the stupid tears that were stupidly pouring down her stupid cheeks. All tears did was make your eyes red. It was only when the water ran cold and she began to shiver that she made an effort to pull herself together, try an old trick her mother had taught her. Look for something positive in everything bad.

  Freddy’s attack had shaken her. It had been vile. But it had forced her to face up to something that deep down she knew, had been doing her best to ignore as she clung to her safety net.

  Sean… Well, he had, whether he believed it or not, rescued her. And he had warned her about Freddy. Which made her a fool if nothing worse, she acknowledged as she plugged in the hairdryer. He’d also brought her good news of Basil who’d apparently been afraid he was dying and was now living it up in Brighton.

  She picked up the postcard that she’d been clutching as she walked home. Winced. Realised that her hand was swollen. Just how hard had she hit Freddy?

  No. She refused to waste another second of her life thinking about him. From now on she would devote herself to making Scoop! a success.

  Not just something to fit in around the ‘day’ job but something to build on, make her own. Her dream. And as she dried her hair she crowded out the horror of what had just happened by making lists in her head of the stuff she still had to do.

  That was scary too but, the minute she stopped, Sean McElroy filled the vacuum. His blue eyes. The way his hair fell across his forehead, his jeans clung to his backside. His expressionless face as he’d stood in the doorway of Freddy’s office seeing yet another woman who had no moral core.

  Sean, who had no concept of permanency in relationships. Who assumed the worst because he never looked for the best.

  She wanted to weep again. Not for herself, or for the possibility of something special that they’d lost, but for his impoverished life.

  She sighed. Time to put the bad stuff behind her, go and find Gran and tell her that Basil was okay. That he’d be home soon. Home. Not some rented cottage on the Haughton Manor estate, but here, where he belonged.

  Looking on the bright side, she now had all the time in the world to get stuff ready for the wedding.

  She folded up the Blue Boar’s black uniform, not sure what to do with it—returning it was not an option—and pulled on a pair of the brightest shorts she could find, with a tank top, and went, barefoot, into the kitchen.

  The pink kettle was still hot and she found her grandmother, straw gardening hat tilted at a saucy angle, in the morning room, enjoying a cup of tea.

  She wasn’t alone.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Elle,’ her grandmother said. ‘Sean tells me that he’s heard from Basil.’

  ‘Yes. He sent a postcard.’

  ‘Really? Where from?’

  ‘Brighton,’ she said shortly, picking up the teapot. Sean rescued it before she dropped it and poured tea into a waiting cup.

  ‘You’re harder to get rid of than a bad penny,’ she said ungratefully.

  ‘You’re not the first person to say that. Let me see your hand,’ he said calmly.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, not wanting him to touch her, but, as she jerked away, she knocked it on the table, cried out. ‘Owww… That hurt.’

  ‘Not as much as Freddy’s broken nose, if that helps,’ he said wryly.

  ‘No…’ Okay, she’d hit him and maybe there had been a bit of a crunch, but… She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t see the blood. Come on, let’s get some ice on this.’ Sean kept hold of her wrist as he walked through to the kitchen, then rummaged around in the freezer until he found a tray of ice cubes. ‘Rolling pin?’

  Her hand was throbbing now and she didn’t argue. ‘First drawer.’

  He tipped the ice on a tea towel and battered it until it was crushed, then, supporting her hand from beneath, he pressed the ice pack against the swelling.

  ‘I can hold it,’ she said dully, focusing on his neatly knotted tie, the perfectly ironed shirt. Not his usual working clothes. He’d been going somewhere, she thought, and had stopped by to give her the good news. Then, when he didn’t let her go, ‘If I broke Freddy’s nose, he’ll be the one coming after me for assault,’

  ‘Nonsense. He’ll tell everyone he tripped over the step.’

  ‘He won’t let me off that easily.’

  ‘He’d be wise to consider it, or it might become a reality.’

  ‘Don’t! Please,’ she said tightly.

  ‘You’re protecting him?’ he bit out.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, then forced herself to look up. Be bold, honest, true. ‘I’m protecting you.’

  His head went back as if she’d slapped him, knocked the breath out of him and for a moment neither of them spoke.

  ‘Don’t you have an estate to run?’ she asked him.

  He nodded, clearly relieved to be offered an escape. ‘I should have been in Melchester an hour ago.’

  ‘Then go.’ Still he hesitated. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You have my number…’ He stopped as if realising that the offer to ride to her rescue was a hollow thing. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘There’s no need, Sean. Sorrel and I can manage the wedding.’

  ‘You won’t be able to load up, or drive Rosie with that hand,’ he pointed out. ‘What time are you leaving?’

  ‘Twelve. I have to pick up the freezer stuff from the cash and carry.’

  Sean made it to the gate before the pain hit him, brought him to a halt. The realisation of what he’d lost. No, what he�
�d thrown away.

  What kind of man was he?

  He could empathise with a dead duckling suffocating in a plastic bag, but people… His mother, his ever increasing family. To them he was judgemental, harsh, cold as January charity.

  All the while he’d been congratulating himself that he’d opened up to his family, made big strides in being a man who Elle could trust, rely on, he’d been fooling himself.

  When it mattered, when he’d seen Elle locked in Frederickson’s arms, even though he knew her, knew what kind of woman she was, he’d instantly leapt to the wrong conclusion. Seeing only what he’d expected to see.

  ‘Love them, keep them safe. Whatever they do.’

  Her words mocked him.

  He’d moved nowhere. He was still thinking of himself, of how he was being hurt. And yet, even when he’d let her down in the worst way, Elle was still more concerned for him than herself. Concerned that, in an attempt to redeem himself, he would be the one charged with assault.

  ‘I’m protecting you…’

  Three little words shattering the barrier layered on over the years with each loss. A barrier against feeling anything. It came at him now like a whirlwind being sucked into a vacuum. Battering him, tearing at him, cutting him.

  ‘You have my number…’

  Hollow words indeed.

  He took a deep breath and began to walk back across the village to where he’d left his car. Time to put that right.

  Elle tried to work, concentrate on Scoop! Updated Rosie’s Diary, picking at the keys one-handed, trying not to let herself think.

  She’d been forced to tell her sisters and her grandmother what had happened with Freddy, so that they understood they had to stay away from the pub. In case the police did turn up to question her. She told them as little as possible about Sean’s part in the events, but he’d walked her home, told her grandmother that there had been a bit of a unpleasantness. They knew he’d been there, had drawn their own conclusions.

  She knew she should contact the police herself. Make a complaint, if only to protect some other girl. Except Freddy wasn’t like that with anyone else. Not even the sixth-form girls who worked at the weekend.