Anything but Vanilla...

by Liz Fielding

  Despite his teasing, he was seriously impressed and picked up some of her business cards to pass on to guests who asked him who was providing the ices.

  * * *

  Sorrel caught sight of Alexander from time to time, talking to guests, answering their questions, making sure that everyone was being served, keeping the flow of ices moving, just as Basil would have done. Making everyone feel special. With that smile, he was a natural.

  He paused, occasionally, to exchange a word with guests, pass on one of the cards she’d left on the counter of the ice-cream bar.

  ‘I was wrong about the cucumber,’ he admitted, at one point in the afternoon, when he brought back a few glasses that hadn’t been returned to a tray.

  ‘I told you I was pistachio,’ she said.

  ‘Not your dress, the ice cream,’ he said. ‘It’s very popular, especially with the women.’

  ‘Is that right? So are you ready to concede defeat?’

  ‘That depends. Did we decide what your forfeit would be if you lose?’

  ‘If I lose, I pay the full rent,’ she reminded him, finding it easier to keep her head with the width of the ice-cream bar between them. ‘Is there something you want, Alexander?’

  His smile was slow, sexy and she was wrong about the ice-cream bar. It was nowhere wide enough.

  ‘Ice cream?’ she prompted.

  ‘I have a special request for a tray of the Earl Grey granita for the ladies watching the tennis.’

  ‘I suspect it’s you rather than the ice they want.’ Especially the junior royal who had been flirting with him whenever he came within eyelash-fluttering distance.

  ‘Maybe you should send someone else.’

  ‘And disappoint the paying customers? I don’t think so,’ she said, taking a tray of tiny cups and saucers out of a chiller drawer and piling in spoonfuls of granita, decorating each one with the thinnest curl of citrus peel, before adding a lemon tuile biscuit to each saucer with the speed of long practice.

  ‘You’ve done that before.’

  ‘Once or two thousand,’ she said.

  ‘They look very tempting.’

  ‘Don’t keep Lady Louise waiting,’ she said, waving him away as she began scooping out the strawberry shortcake and lemon cheesecake into bite-sized biscuit cases. ‘She won’t be happy if her tea gets warm.’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  When she allowed herself to look up again, he had been waylaid halfway across the lawn by a blonde weather-girl whose string of high-profile romances had ensured her permanent place on the covers of the lifestyle magazines. She leaned forward, offering a close-up of her generously enhanced cleavage, and, her hand on his arm, whispered something in Alexander’s ear. He whispered back and she burst out laughing as she took a cup from the tray. Which was when the Celebrity photographer seized his moment.

  Barring any outrageous incident, it seemed likely that her Earl Grey granita, bracketed by their favourite cover girl flirting with an unknown but attractive man, would make it onto the cover of next week’s Celebrity.

  She knew she should be ecstatic about that—it was more than she’d dared hope for—but, with Alexander still grinning as he headed for the tennis court, she couldn’t bring herself to feel as happy about it as she ought to be.

  * * *

  ‘Fabulous, Sorrel,’ Nick said, dropping by once everyone had gone. ‘Thanks for a wonderful event.’

  ‘It seemed to go well. We were lucky with the weather.’

  ‘Well, I can’t deny that helped. Alexander...’ he said, turning, as Alexander handed her a couple of cups and a spoon that had been missed. ‘I thought I saw you, earlier, but assumed I must be hallucinating.’

  ‘I flew in a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Actually, I was referring to the fact that you’re moonlighting for Sorrel.’

  ‘Blue moonlighting,’ he said.

  ‘As in “once in a blue moon”,’ Sorrel chipped in, seeing Nick’s confusion.

  Unsure what to make of that, he said, ‘Well, thanks again, Sorrel. I’ll be in touch very soon. It’s my niece’s eighteenth birthday in a couple of months and she’s dropped heavy hints that she expects Rosie to put in an appearance at her party.’

  ‘No problem. Just let me know when so that I can put it in the diary.’

  ‘I’ll phone you next week. Are you going to be around for long, Alexander?’

  ‘A week or two.’

  ‘Well, give me a call if you have time so that we can catch up.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked, when Nick had gone.

  She shook her head. The students were a well-drilled team and everything was already cleaned down and packed away, ready to be picked up by Sean.

  ‘You’ve been brilliant. I am very grateful. Truly.’ She tucked the cups and spoons into their crates inside the ice-cream bar. ‘Thanks for finding these. The staff are good at spotting stuff tucked away in the weirdest places, but it’s always tougher keeping track when the event is outside.’

  ‘I can imagine. So,’ he said, ‘what’s the score? Who won?’

  ‘Won?’

  ‘What went first, the champagne sorbet or the cucumber ice cream?’

  ‘Relax, the trust will get its rent. The sorbet had it by a country mile. We were down to the last scoop.’

  ‘Perfectly judged, then. What happens to the ice-cream bar now?’

  ‘Sean and Basil will come with a trailer and take it back to the estate.’

  ‘Sean?’ And there it was again. That same, slightly possessive tone.

  ‘Sean McElroy. My brother-in-law,’ she said, quickly, trying to ignore the little frisson of pleasure that rippled through her.

  Bad, bad, bad...

  ‘So he would be married to Elle? Father to Tara, Marji and Fenny?’ He looked up as someone approached them. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want a word with Miss Amery.’

  ‘Graeme?’ For the second time that day her heart catapulted around her chest at the sound of a voice. The first time it had soared. This time the reaction was confused. She should be delighted that he’d taken the trouble to come and see how the event had gone. Instead there was a jag of irritation that he should decide to choose today. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Last night...’ He made the smallest gesture with a well-manicured hand, a suggestion that what he had to say was for her ears only. That the help should take a hint and leave.

  The ‘help’ ignored him and stayed put.

  ‘Last night?’ she repeated.

  ‘You seemed keyed up, edgy, not at all yourself.’

  ‘Really?’ Why could that be? Because she’d invited herself into his bed and he’d chosen not to hear, perhaps? Because this was a relationship that he controlled and that until Alexander West had turned up, turned her on, she had been content to allow him to control. Because it was safe.

  ‘When you didn’t come back for dinner I was concerned.’

  ‘Were you?’ He hadn’t been concerned enough to come looking for her. ‘I walked along the river. I was safe enough with the dogs.’

  ‘It wasn’t your safety I was concerned about, but your state of mind,’ he said. ‘To be frank I’m concerned that you’re going to do something foolish.’

  ‘Why?’ Alexander asked.

  Graeme gave him a cold ‘are you still here?’ look, then said, ‘We’ll have tea here—’

  ‘You’ve missed tea,’ Alexander said. ‘Shame. The cucumber sandwiches were a hit. Why do you think Sorrel would do something foolish?’

  ‘Come along, Sorrel.’ He used pretty much the same tone as she’d use to call one of the dogs to heel.

  ‘Only I would have said that Sorrel Amery is one of the most level-headed women I know,’ Alexander continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I’ve seen her deal with a crisis with humour, compassion and a lot of hard work.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Graeme demanded.

  ‘May I introduce Alexander West, Graeme? Ria’s friend,�
� she added, quickly, before he said anything outrageous about her. ‘He very kindly volunteered to step into Basil’s shoes today. Alexander, Graeme Laing is my financial advisor.’

  Graeme dismissed the introduction with an impatient don’t-waste-my-time gesture. ‘Where is Basil? Is he unwell? He was fit enough yesterday evening.’

  ‘He’s absolutely fine. He and Grandma are running the ice-cream parlour for me today.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘I’ve rented it for a month while we sort things out. I need the facilities.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous! Basil should be here.’ He sighed. ‘This is exactly what I was talking about. You’ve become emotionally involved, Sorrel. You have to distance yourself from that woman.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I need her.’

  ‘Of course you don’t! I’ve explained what you’re going to do...’ His voice was rising and, realising that he was attracting attention, he said, ‘We need to talk this through in a quiet atmosphere. I’ll go and reserve a table on the rose-garden terrace.’

  Alexander said, ‘Now, Sorrel.’

  She reached back, a hand on his arm to indicate that she’d heard him. Sun-warmed, sinewy, it felt vital and alive beneath her palm, but she forced herself to focus on Graeme. She had to explain. She needed his support. Needed him to be onside.

  ‘Distance is the last thing I want,’ she said. ‘I’m passionate about my business.’ There had been plenty of time to think as she’d walked across the common, along the river bank in the gathering dusk with only the dogs for company. ‘I want it to grow. Not just this,’ she said, making a broad gesture with her free hand, taking in the sweeping parkland of Cranbrook Park, guests lingering after the event that had just taken place. ‘I want everyone to be able to have a little piece of what we do. I want Ria to be my partner.’

  She’d continued thinking as she’d soaked in the bath and then she’d spent a large part of the night drafting a proposal to put to Ria. A proposal that Graeme would understand—if he would just look beyond his prejudice and see the potential.

  ‘I’m going to commission Geli to create a retro design for Knickerbocker Gloria and, once we’ve made it the best ice-cream parlour ever, I’m going to franchise it.’

  ‘Franchise it? Are you mad? Have you any idea what that would entail?’

  ‘I did some research last night and I got in touch with—’

  ‘Sorrel.’

  She turned to Alexander and he took her hand from his arm and held it in his. ‘Now,’ he said.

  ‘Now?’ she repeated, distractedly.

  ‘I said I’d tell you when.’ He raised one of those expressive eyebrows and the penny dropped. Two hours of her time. He’d tell her when.

  Could he have chosen a worse time? Couldn’t he see that this was important, not just for her, but for Ria?

  She glared at him and then turned to Graeme. The contrast between the two men couldn’t be more striking.

  Graeme looked as if he’d just stepped out of an ad in the pages of one of those upmarket men’s magazines. Whipcord slender, exquisitely tailored from head to toe, hair cut to within a millimetre, the faintest whiff of some fabulously expensive aftershave and an expression suggesting he’d sucked on a sour lemon.

  Alexander had a touch of lipstick on his cheek, a smear of what looked like strawberry-shortcake ice on his sleeve and an expression that suggested he was enjoying himself.

  Right at that moment she wanted to smack them both.

  ‘I’m sorry to spoil your plans, Mr Laing,’ Alexander said, before she could do anything, ‘but Miss Amery and I have unfinished business and she’s promised me a couple of hours of her time.’

  ‘What business?’ he demanded.

  ‘Don’t worry, Graeme,’ she said, furious with him, furious with Alexander and, aware that she’d made a complete hash of it, not exactly thrilled with herself. ‘It’s got absolutely nothing to do with money.’

  ELEVEN

  Don’t wreck the perfect ice-cream moment by feeling guilty.

  —Rosie’s ‘Little Book of Ice Cream’

  Neither of them said a word until they reached the car park, where Sorrel snatched back her hand.

  ‘Thanks for that.’

  ‘He wasn’t hearing you, Sorrel.’

  ‘I know.’ He wasn’t hearing her about a lot of things. Or maybe she was the one not getting the message. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that, but it’s what happens when you spend all night building castles in the air instead of getting a solid eight hours.’ When you were distracted by desire and Mr Right was suddenly Mr Totally Wrong. ‘My timing was off.’

  ‘I may have caught him on a bad day, but Graeme Laing doesn’t look like a castles-in-the-air kind of man to me. I doubt there’s ever going to be a right time to sell him that deal.’

  ‘No,’ she said, leaping to his defence. ‘You don’t understand. He requires solid foundations, a business plan, a well-constructed spreadsheet to support the figures.’ And even then he was hard to convince. She’d floated several carefully worked-out ideas by him during the last year and he’d shot them all down as ‘impractical’, or ‘too soon’. She was never going to win him over by flinging something at him without careful preparation. ‘He’s not a man to talk things through on a walk by the river, throwing sticks for the dogs,’ she added, more to herself than him.

  ‘He’s not a dog person, either?’

  ‘What? Oh, no.’ At least not excitable mongrels. If Graeme had a dog it would be as sleek and well groomed as he was. An Irish Setter, perhaps.

  ‘Does he have any redeeming features?’

  ‘He was brilliant when I was starting out, needed advice, support, finance. It’s just...’

  ‘He was talking to you as if you were a wilful child, Sorrel.’

  ‘No... Maybe. A bit.’ A lot. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to expand. Wanted to keep her where she was. Which was ridiculous. He’d done so much to help her. ‘I know how he thinks and I should have waited until I could lay out my business plan in a calm manner instead of jumping in with both feet.’

  He looked down at her cream suede ballet pumps with flower trim. ‘They are very pretty feet.’

  She felt her face warm, her skin tingle. Two hours...

  ‘Maybe he’s not a foot man.’ He looked up, his eyes full of questions.

  She swallowed. ‘The subject has never come up.’ As far as she knew he’d never noticed her shoes. Floundering, she said, ‘He’s been very kind to me.’ In company he was usually as courteous to service personnel as he was to captains of industry, but she couldn’t help wondering how different his response to Alexander would have been if, instead of introducing him as Ria’s friend, she’d introduced him as ‘...one of the WPG Wests...’ ‘He just has a bit of a blind spot about Ria. He can’t see beyond the tie-dyed muslin and the bangles.’

  ‘And her lack of responsibility when it comes to her accounts.’

  ‘That, too. I keep hoping that he’ll get it, see that the advantages outweigh the problems, but you can’t change people can you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No,’ she repeated.

  She would always need security, while Ria would always seize the day, choosing life over her accounts, and Alexander would always need to be exploring some distant jungle, searching for new—old—ways to heal the sick. As for Graeme, he would always expect her to keep her emotions in check. Which hadn’t been a problem until yesterday. Wasn’t a problem...

  ‘How did you get to Cranbrook?’ she asked, not wanting to go there. ‘Please tell me that you didn’t walk.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Would you feel really guilty?’

  ‘Why would I feel guilty? It’s not that far from town. I was more concerned about the catastrophic effect that you, in shorts, would have had on road safety.’

  He grinned. ‘Are you suggesting that my legs are a traffic hazard, Miss Amery?’

  ‘Lethal.
The local Highways Department would have to put up warning signs if you were planning on staying for more than a few days.’

  ‘Then it’s a good job that I picked up my car this morning,’ he said, sliding his hand into his pocket, producing a set of keys and unlocking the door of a muscular sports car. Apparently she wasn’t the only one with a taste for nineteen-sixties vintage.

  ‘This is yours?’ she asked, running her hand over the sleek gunmetal grey curve of the Aston Martin’s sun-warmed bonnet. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It belonged to my father.’ Catching the past tense, something in his voice that warned her that his father hadn’t simply passed the car on when he’d bought a later model, she looked up. ‘He died fourteen years ago,’ he said, answering the unasked question.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He shrugged. ‘He had the kind of heart attack that most people survive. He’d treated himself to a yacht for his birthday and was having a little extra-marital offshore dalliance to celebrate. The woman involved, unsurprisingly, had hysterics. By the time she’d pulled herself together, worked out how the ship-to-shore radio worked and the coastguard had arrived, it was too late.’

  ‘Alexander...’ She was lost for words. ‘How dreadful.’

  ‘Are you referring to the fact that he was cheating or her inability to do CPR?’

  ‘What? Neither!’ She shook her head, not hearing the cynicism, only a world of hurt buried deep behind a careless shrug. ‘Both. But to die so needlessly...’

  ‘I have no doubt he gave St Peter hell,’ he said, apparently unmoved by the tragedy. ‘Particularly in view of the fact that he was the CEO of a company that manufactures the best-selling heart drugs on the market, a fact the newspapers made much of at the time.’

  ‘I’m sure St Peter has heard it all before,’ she said. ‘I was more concerned about the effect on the woman with him. On your mother. On you.’

  ‘I barely knew him. Or her. My parents split up when I was eight, at which point I was sent to boarding school.’

  ‘But...’