Better Together

by Annalisa Carr

  “Why?”

  “It’ll give you some stability.”

  “Not the sort I want,” Tallulah retorted. “Anyway, I’m not going to be an office worker forever, and temping pays well. Better than anything permanent I could get.”

  “But it’s not secure.” Zoe had an extremely secure job with a firm of accountants, had just sailed through her qualifying exams and been given a generous pay rise. She’d worked for the same firm since she left school.

  “No, but I can work most of the summer and then go part time when term starts again.” Tallulah was in her final year of a part-time art and textile degree course. It had taken her nearly eight years to reach this point, and she hadn’t worked her butt off just to become an office drone.

  “I don’t understand why you need a degree,” Zoe said. “Your work’s already selling.”

  Tallulah shrugged. It was her version of security, but she didn’t know how to explain that to her more pragmatic sister. “Education’s always a good thing,” she said, quoting her foster mother.

  The waiter hovered near their table. “Are you eating?”

  Zoe and Tallulah looked at each other.

  “I’m starving,” Tallulah said. “So yes.”

  “Do you want a table inside?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The waiter handed them two menus and said he’d be back.

  “Just cheese for me,” Tallulah said. “A margarita.”

  “It’s too hot for pizza.” Zoe wiped her forehead. “I’ll have a salad.”

  “And two more beers,” Tallulah said, pulling the fabric of her skirt away from her legs.

  “I suppose you made that yourself? It looks cool.”

  “Nothing’s cool at the moment.” She examined Zoe’s pencil skirt and tailored blouse. “I just bought some batik fabric off the web. I’m going to make a couple of dresses with it. It’s in indigo and fuchsia and looks almost tie-dyed. I’ll make one for you as well if you like? I’ve enough material.”

  “Okay. I’ll come around at the weekend. Have you seen Mia or Kyle recently?”

  Mia and Kyle were the other two siblings; Mia was nearly twenty-one and had left foster care at sixteen, disappearing onto the London streets, before appearing on Tallulah’s doorstep a year later. She earned her living busking at tube stations and playing in a couple of bands. At least that’s what she said.

  “No. I thought you had Mia to stay a few weeks ago.”

  “She was moving into a new squat,” Zoe said. “I didn’t like to ask too much in case she told me. You know? She won’t listen to anyone else, so there’s no point in trying.”

  “There’s a room in my building going free,” Tallulah said. “Do you think . . .?”

  “I doubt it,” Zoe shook her head. “She won’t want to pay for a place. However cheap it is.”

  Tallulah chewed on her lower lip. She worried about Mia, who had been nine when the family were snatched by social services. She worried about them all, but Mia the most. Her foster family were unpleasant; the other children—a boy and girl, bullies—and the parents hadn’t seemed to care. No wonder Mia had walked out.

  “Stop it, Tallie.” Zoe slapped her hand. “She’s an adult now. You can’t sort her life out for her.”

  Tallulah wished she could. She’d taken care of all four of them until just after her fourteenth birthday. That had been a horrible year. The twins were born prematurely and taken away immediately. Her mother hadn’t seemed to notice, but afterwards, she only left her bed when she needed a fix, and she died one morning about six months later. Tallulah had wracked her brains to find a way to keep the authorities from finding out, but in the end, everything had fallen apart.

  “No.” She gave Zoe a weak smile as the pizzas arrived.

  After a minute, she looked up from her food. “How’s Michael?”

  Michael was Zoe’s boyfriend. He was a tax manager, and the two of them had a long-term plan to buy a house and get married.

  “He’s fine.” Zoe put her fork down. “He wants to move out of London.”

  “What?” Tallulah almost choked on her pizza slice. “Why?”

  “Too expensive,” Zoe said. “He’s right, but I like it here. I’ve always lived in London.”

  “What will you do?”

  Zoe shrugged.

  “Where’s he got in mind?”

  “Manchester of all places. It’s miles away.” Zoe pouted, but Tallulah knew that if Michael went, she’d go too. Michael was her security.

  “It’s grim up north.” Tallulah tried to joke.

  “Yeah.” Zoe didn’t look like she got the joke.

  “Why don’t you look at renting somewhere like mine?”

  Zoe pulled a face. “You have to share a bathroom and kitchen with five complete strangers. You live in a building that should be condemned.”

  Tallulah shrugged. “It’s cheap. Anyway, there are other places like it, but in better condition.”

  “Michael wants to buy a house.”

  “I want to be the next Salvador Dali.”

  Zoe giggled. “Really?”

  “Maybe not. Maybe I’d rather be Roy Liechtenstein.” Tallulah just wanted to support herself doing the work she loved.

  “We could afford a house in Manchester.” Zoe turned her attention to her salad.

  “I haven’t seen Kyle since the end of term,” Tallulah said.

  “Me neither.” Zoe latched onto the change of subject. “Maybe we should get together one weekend.

  Kyle was the youngest of them, apart from the lost twins. They’d be eleven now. When Tallulah checked, she was told they were adopted as babies. Together. She hoped they had a nice life. Kyle was almost eighteen and would have to sort himself out soon. Tallulah had the impression that his foster parents would continue to support him. He’d said they kept nagging about university.

  “You’re worrying again.” Zoe poked her.

  Chapter 3

  London was almost as hot as New York. Aiden scrambled out of the back of the air-conditioned company car, thanked the driver, and headed up the steps to the main door of Marlowe Developments.

  The air was heavy with heat and moisture. He wiped his forearm across his forehead, swapped his case to the other hand, and walked into the cool sanctuary of reception. A constant stream of be-suited men and women flowed past him. He checked his watch. Only five o’clock. The receptionist looked as though she was packing up for the weekend. She was peering into her bag and muttering to herself, so Aiden cleared his throat.

  She straightened, eyes widening as she inspected him, her gaze moving over his body to end up on his face. “Mr Marlowe?” She picked up the phone.

  As far as he knew, he’d never seen her before in his life. The rumour mill must have started.

  “My father’s expecting me.” He wasn’t sure why his father insisted on meeting him at the company headquarters; after all, they’d both be travelling down to Surrey together for the weekend. From what he’d gathered the previous weekend, his father had been advised to rest until he went into hospital.

  The receptionist replaced the receiver. “Mr Marlowe’s secretary is on her way down to collect you. Have a good weekend.” She picked up her bag and gave him a nervous smile as she left.

  Aiden frowned. It was like watching lemmings race towards the cliff edge.

  “Aiden!”

  He turned at the call, the sound of the familiar voice.

  Francesca.

  His sister hurried towards him, ignoring the worker bees as they headed for the door. “What are you doing here?” She dropped her briefcase on the tiled floor.

  “Meeting with Father.”

  Francesca’s dark hair coiled neatly on her head,
and her make-up was still flawless despite the heat of the day. Her light blue suit was only fashionably creased, and high heels brought her almost to his height. She folded her arms. “Father shouldn’t be here. He’s been told to rest.”

  “Don’t blame me,” Aiden said. “That’s what I told him. When has he ever listened to anyone else though?”

  “So why does he want to meet you here?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Aren’t you involved?”

  Francesca’s cheeks flushed with anger. “I didn’t even know he was coming in. And if I had, I would have stopped him.”

  “Sure you would.”

  “I’d have tried.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you needn’t think I’m happy about this, you two-faced snake.”

  “What are you talking about?” Aiden was used to his sister’s colourful use of language, but had no idea why he was a target.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

  He shook his head. “Give me a clue.”

  “I spend years working for father. I give everything to the company. You ran off to the US as soon as you were old enough. You haven’t done a thing for the family.” Her fists clenched. “And what happens? I’m overlooked and you’re summoned back. The prodigal, the favoured son—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Aiden interrupted her. “Like I want to be here? Don’t worry. Once Father’s on the mend, I’ll be off. I have my own life, you know?”

  “How’s Sasha?”

  Aiden winced. He was still raw about the Sasha fiasco.

  Francesca’s anger turned to concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Are you driving back with us?”

  “No. I’m meeting Gareth, and we’ll travel down together. We’re just about to leave.” She picked up her bag.

  Aiden looked at his watch. “Already?”

  Francesca gave him a fierce frown, pushed him aside, and stalked to the door, body language screaming resentment. He knew he couldn’t blame her, but their father should be the target for her anger, not him. None of it was his fault.

  The lift doors opened and instead of his father’s secretary, Gareth emerged.

  Aiden waited. Gareth Oliver was not the sort of man he’d have chosen for his sister. Too smooth, too well-groomed, too pleased with himself, in Aiden’s opinion. He was the financial manager for Marlowe’s, and Aiden couldn’t rid himself of the idea that he was pursuing Francesca for the sake of his career. That was wrong; Francesca could do better. She was stunning as well as clever, and most of the time he was fond of her. She was his little sister.

  “Hello, Gareth. What’s with the mass exodus?”

  “It’s Friday afternoon. How’re things with you?”

  “Okay, considering.” Aiden returned the phoney smile.

  “Yes.” Gareth’s smile faded. “I’m sorry about your father.” He looked around reception. “Have you seen Francesca? I don’t think—”

  “She’s gone out to the car.”

  “Thanks.” Gareth joined the exodus.

  Aiden swung round and collided with a fairy, a vaguely familiar fairy. She was tiny and topped with a halo of silvery blonde hair. She was the girl he’d crashed into the previous Monday, as he was rushing for his taxi to the airport.

  “This is becoming a habit.” He couldn’t help smiling at her as she gaped up at him and backed away. She was cute.

  Her bag fell to the floor; she bent to save it, staggered, and tripped over her long skirt. He stopped her fall by grabbing one arm.

  She wriggled free, her pale skin flushing. “Sorry. I’ve got to stop doing this.” Sparkling blue eyes flashed up at him.

  “My fault this time.” He thought his quick assessment was subtle, but she raised a pale eyebrow and grinned before whirling round and rushing for the door. She was a sexy fairy, and he had to stop himself from following her. She stood out among the dark suits like a peacock among mallards, and he wondered what she was doing in the building. Surely, she doesn’t work here? Nothing about her fit into the corporate scene.

  She hurried through the automatic doors, her hair swinging behind her. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was streaked with blonde, silver, and a dark chocolate brown. He peered into the group of people disappearing down the stairs, trying to catch a final glimpse, but she’d gone.

  When he turned back, Elaine, his father’s secretary, was waiting.

  Chapter 4

  “Good afternoon, Mr Marlowe. I hope you had a pleasant journey. Your father’s waiting in his office.” Elaine held out one hand as her eyes flicked over him.

  A pleasant journey? He’d just flown from New York, in a heat wave, at very short notice. He shook her hand.

  She pulled it back after a very brief touch and led him through the double doors to the lift for the upper floors. Elaine had been his father’s secretary for as long as Aiden could remember, and looking at her now, it was hard for him to visualise her as the young woman he’d first met. She’d been almost as cold then, but everything else about her had changed. It wasn’t that she’d aged badly; she was in very good shape, but she’d become as polished as a gemstone and hard as a glacier. She reminded him of his mother in more ways than the obvious, and he wondered if she was still in love with his father.

  He followed her upright figure into the lift. From the back, she could have been twenty years old, but no twenty-year-old would wear those clothes. Her suit was authentic Chanel and ultra conservative. How does Father’s secretary afford Chanel? Maybe she’s involved in whatever financial irregularities are going on. I’d love to have her arrested, he thought.

  Elaine had never hidden her disdain for him. Her involvement would be a blow to his father after all these years, but Aiden still wasn’t sure if he believed in the irregularities. He wondered if they were just a tool for his father to get him back in England and into the family fold. He’d been very vague the previous weekend.

  The lift doors opened, and Elaine waited for him with visible impatience. He would like to think she was a criminal, but it was much more likely that his father had paid for the clothes. It was a poorly kept secret that Elaine had been his mistress for years.

  “Sorry.” The lift doors closed behind him. “Jetlag.” Jetlag was always a good explanation for any momentary lapse in concentration. Sometimes it was even true.

  “You’re working late.” Aiden tried to make conversation as they walked along the carpeted corridor of the seventh floor, the floor where all the executive offices were located. He wasn’t a schoolboy any longer, to be intimidated by his father’s ice-queen assistant.

  “It’s only five o’clock,” she replied in an echo of his earlier thoughts.

  “I thought the whole place had emptied,” he muttered.

  She gave him a smile that was fractionally more genuine. “The work ethic of the young isn’t all it should be. And your father . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Come along. Don’t keep him waiting. He should be resting.”

  Aiden hurried after her, suppressing the urge to stick out his tongue at her disapproving back. It’s not my fault my father’s an awkward old bastard.

  William Marlowe was sitting at the small conference table in his large corner office when Aiden entered. He’d been staring out the window but turned his head when Elaine showed Aiden in.

  “Thanks, Elaine. Perhaps my son would like a coffee?”

  Aiden nodded. The long day was catching up with him.

  Elaine disappeared into the outer office, and Aiden examined his father. The older man looked fine, but as Aiden looked closer, he saw the flush on his father’s face and the weariness in his eyes. His normal energy levels were sky high, so the changes were worrying.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m not dead yet. Sit down, will you? Don’t l
oom like that.” William shook his head. “And why don’t you wear decent clothes and get a haircut.”

  Aiden pulled out a chair across from his father, ignoring the familiar criticism. He’d just flown across the Atlantic; an uncomfortable suit didn’t make sense, especially in the heat. “You really shouldn’t be here. Didn’t your doctor say—?”

  “Don’t start telling me what to do. The doctor’s paid for that. You aren’t. I’ve enough with your mother and Elaine nagging me.”

  Elaine pushed the door open without knocking. She carried a tray containing two fine white china cups, a cafetière, a milk jug, and a plate of sliced lemon. She put it on the table and poured coffee for Aiden, before picking up a cup and placing it in front of William.

  “What’s this?” William peered into the cup, his mouth twisting in distaste.

  “Herbal tea. You can add the lemon yourself.”

  “I’ve told you before—”

  “The doctor said no caffeine.” Elaine placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to be responsible for sending you to an early grave.”

  William grimaced, but he picked up the cup and sniffed it, before dropping a slice of lemon into it.

  Elaine smiled at him.

  “Go home, Elaine,” he said. “Have a good weekend.”

  “Good luck,” she said. “I’ll be thinking of you. I’ll come and visit you next week.” She hovered uncertainly for a second, before leaving.

  William watched her go.

  “Father? Are you . . .? Is Elaine . . .?”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “Right.” Aiden conjured up an image of his father with Elaine, and then shook it out of his head as the sort of scene that could haunt him for weeks. It would be better not to think about it. He turned a blank attentive face to his father.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the problems in the company before you start next week.” William grimaced as he sipped his herbal tea. “This is disgusting.”