City Cinderella

by Catherine George

  ‘I heated the soup, as per your instructions,’ he went on. ‘And even cut some bread, but I was too damn feeble to wrestle with the coffee machine so I made some tea. I didn’t know I had any tea—’

  ‘I bought it for you.’

  ‘Then I owe you, Miss Warner.’

  ‘You can pay me tomorrow, Mr Tennent. Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘Just a morning paper as you come in, if you would. How do you get here?’

  ‘I walk.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Spitalfields. Would you like me to make lunch for you?’

  ‘Don’t bother about that. Just the sound of a human voice will do. Wallowing alone with my bug soon lost its appeal.’

  Emily frowned. ‘The Donaldsons are away, of course, but surely you have other friends who could call round?’

  ‘The two most likely succumbed to the bug before I did—’ He broke off to cough, and Emily waited until he was quiet before asking if there was anything else he needed.

  ‘I can get it on my way in, Mr Tennent.’

  ‘Call me Lucas.’

  ‘Not suitable,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘For obvious reasons.’

  ‘If you mean because you work for me, that’s rubbish,’ he said with scorn. ‘According to the great and good we live in a classless society these days.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with class,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘You said choice of name was up to me,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I meant my name—’ She stopped, wondering why she was making a fuss. ‘Oh, all right, whatever you say.’

  ‘Bravo. Now I can go happy to bed.’

  ‘You should be in bed right now.’

  ‘I was speaking figuratively. Apart from staggering out to the kitchen to make my supper, I haven’t left my bed all day.’ He coughed again. ‘I trust you feel suitably sympathetic?’

  ‘Of course I do. I was a fellow sufferer not so long ago, remember. Goodnight. I hope you sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Emily had barely put the phone down when it rang again.

  ‘At last, darling,’ said Claire Warner. ‘I’ve been trying to get you for the past ten minutes.’

  ‘Hi, Mother. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Miles rang here half an hour ago, demanding your address.’

  ‘No!’ Emily groaned. ‘You didn’t tell him?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said her mother scornfully. ‘I didn’t even speak to him. Your father answered the phone and wiped the floor with him; told him to leave you alone.’

  ‘Way to go, Dad,’ crowed Emily, then sobered. ‘Actually, Miles left a message here just now, too. He’s got hold of my new number somehow.’

  ‘Oh, Emily. Have you given it to someone he knows?’

  ‘Only Ginny. But she wouldn’t tell him.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t. How is she?’

  ‘Fine. We had our usual little jolly together yesterday. Though she spent most of it lecturing me.’ Emily explained about Lucas Tennent’s flu.

  Because Claire Warner failed to see why her daughter had to do the man’s cleaning in the first place, let alone look after him now he was ill, she expressed wholehearted agreement with Ginny. ‘For heaven’s sake, child. It’s not all that long since you were down with flu yourself. Amongst other things.’

  ‘Temper, mainly.’

  ‘You’re certainly well shot of Miles Denny. I hope Nat hasn’t put your name on his door!’

  ‘Of course he hasn’t. Nat lets me know if my presence is required when he’s around, and Ginny rings me as she’s coming down the street and I go down and let her in.’

  ‘Terribly cloak and dagger—like living in a safe house.’

  ‘Nat’s house is safe.’

  ‘You know what I mean!’

  ‘You read too many crime novels, Mother. I just needed a place in London to get myself together for a bit. And Nat has provided it. I’m very grateful to him.’

  ‘Darling,’ said her mother, after a pause. ‘Nat’s a charming man, but—’

  ‘Oh, Mother! Nat is Andrew’s friend, not mine at all, really. And he’s married to Thea and father to the twins. What on earth do you take me for?’

  ‘At the moment, a very vulnerable girl,’ said Claire Warner bluntly.

  ‘I’ve learned my lesson, believe me.’

  ‘No more men, you mean?’

  ‘Certainly not. I’m off Miles, Mother dear, not men in general.’

  But afterwards Emily felt deeply uneasy. If Miles had her phone number maybe he could track down her address, too—even have it already. Though if he was brass-faced enough to turn up in person he’d have to get past Nat, and possibly Mark as well, to get hold of her.

  Emily had just got down to work on her book when the phone rang for a third time. She groaned in frustration, but at the sound of Ginny’s familiar tones she cut through the message to answer.

  ‘Hold it, I’m here.’

  ‘Emily, thank heavens. You’ve been engaged forever. You’ll never guess who came round here this evening!’

  Emily sighed. ‘I bet I can—Miles.’

  ‘Yes. How did you work that out?’

  ‘He rang my parents earlier, but my father gave him a very un-Christian ticking off, according to Mother.’

  ‘Brilliant! That must have been before he came here, then. I was in the shower when he turned up, so Charlie left him cooling his heels in the hall until I deigned to appear.’

  ‘Well done. What did he want?’

  ‘Your phone number and address, of course.’

  ‘You didn’t—’

  ‘Of course not. Even though he kept hammering away that it was a matter of life and death that he got in touch with you.’

  Emily snorted. ‘Not a hope.’

  ‘My words exactly. He didn’t like it one bit,’ Ginny informed her with satisfaction. ‘Took umbrage, big-time.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Charlie showed him the door.’

  Emily giggled. Ginny’s large husband was by nature imperturbable, unless someone was foolish enough to upset his wife. ‘I don’t suppose he physically threw Miles out?’ she asked hopefully.

  Ginny laughed. ‘Next best thing. I doubt Miles will pay us a repeat visit. Let’s hope he doesn’t try to visit you, either. Has he ever met Nat?’

  ‘No. Hopefully he never will, either.’

  The idea of Miles tracking her down kept Emily awake for a while, but in the end she slept well enough, and woke with a feeling of anticipation she eventually identified—with alarm—as pleasure at seeing Lucas Tennent again. None of that, she warned herself, and went off to take a shower.

  When Emily went downstairs later Nat was in the hall, about to leave for the day. He looked tired and pale, but not, she saw with relief, as depressed as he usually did after parting with the twins.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked warily. ‘I didn’t like to barge in on you yesterday to ask.’

  ‘The twins flew at Thea, and before she could say a word demanded that I stay for tea.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘To my amazement, their wish was granted. And the occasion went off surprisingly well, mainly because the twins dominated the entire occasion over the tea and cakes.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Next time maybe Thea will ask me to supper.’

  ‘Oh, Nat, I do hope so. By the way,’ she added, ‘my ex left a message on my phone last night.’

  Nat’s eyes narrowed. ‘How the hell did he get hold of the number?’

  ‘No idea. I just hope he doesn’t ferret out the address, too.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Em. I’ll deal with him if he does. Give me a photograph.’

  ‘No can do. I burned them all.’

  ‘Description, then.’

  ‘About your height, but heavier, dark eyes and hair, toothpaste ad smile, and so full of himself you’ll recognise him on sight.’

  Nat grinned. �
�You’re still angry with him, then.’

  ‘Livid!’ She looked at her watch. ‘Must go.’

  ‘You look rather special this morning,’ he said, giving her the once-over.

  ‘Things to do after my morning cleaning session,’ she fibbed. ‘But I’ll see to your place this afternoon.’

  ‘Right, I must be off, too.’ Nat gave her an evil grin. ‘And don’t worry, if Mr Denny comes knocking I’ll throw him out, neck and crop.’

  Emily set off for her normal working day with anticipation she firmly dismissed as utter nonsense. Lucas Tennent was feeling rough and needed company; she was merely the person willing to brave his germs. And to brighten him up she was wearing a newish yellow sweater with her jeans, and a touch of make-up. No big deal.

  By the time the lift doors opened on the top floor of Lucas Tennent’s building Emily had herself well in hand. She was the cleaner. Lucas Tennent paid her wages. For the moment he was feeling so rotten he needed a helping hand. So she would be brisk and efficient, hand over the paper, complete her usual cleaning routine, make lunch for him, then go straight home again.

  Emily pressed the buzzer, unlocked the door and called her name. And this time Lucas appeared at once, haggard, the bloodshot eyes dark-ringed, but with a smile of greeting so different from the hostility of the day before it did serious damage to her resolutions.

  ‘Good morning, Emily Warner. Good of you to come.’

  ‘I’m always here on Mondays.’ She handed him the paper.

  ‘Thank you just the same. But be of good cheer,’ he said, leaning in the doorway. ‘No need to change sheets and force pills down my throat. I’ve performed both duties myself, already.’

  ‘Well done.’ She took off her jacket and put it on the chest. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Not wonderful. But better than yesterday.’

  Which was obvious from the interest he was taking in her appearance.

  ‘Back to bed now,’ she said briskly. ‘Read the paper while I tidy up.’

  ‘Forget that. I need conversation. Come and talk to me for a while—’ Lucas broke off to cough, and Emily gestured towards his bedroom.

  ‘Please go back to bed.’ She went ahead of him to stack the pillows and turn down the newly changed covers. ‘You should have waited for me to do this,’ she said severely. ‘Because you don’t feel so marvellous now, do you?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted, and slid into bed with a groan of relief.

  ‘Have you had anything to eat today?’

  ‘I drank some milk.’

  ‘Better than nothing, I suppose,’ said Emily, and smiled her approval.

  ‘Cute dimple,’ he commented.

  ‘What would you like to eat?’ she asked, ignoring him. ‘Eggs in some form would be best. Something light to start you off.’

  ‘At the moment I feel too feeble to lift a fork. Later, maybe. When I’ve got over my exertions.’ He eyed her irritably. ‘For the moment just sit down and talk to me, woman.’

  Objecting hotly to this form of address, Emily stood her ground for a moment, then sat down on the chair beside the bed. ‘Oh, very well. What shall I talk about?’

  ‘You.’

  She grimaced. ‘Boring subject.’

  ‘I disagree.’ He slid further down in the bed. ‘Tell me what you did before the domestic engineering.’

  ‘I worked in a commercial retail agency—I told you it was boring.’

  ‘Emily, that sexy voice of yours could recite the phone book without boring me.’ He threw up a hand at her scowl. ‘Sorry, sorry. Go on. Tell me why you switched careers.’

  She shrugged. ‘I lived for a while with a man who worked in the same agency. When we broke up I moved out and packed in my job.’

  Lucas lay watching her, his shadowed eyes alert with interest. ‘Non-amicable parting, obviously. When was this?’

  ‘Fairly recently. Now, how about that breakfast?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I’m a bit wary of eating. It’s bloody mortifying to keep dashing away to throw up.’

  She nodded sympathetically. ‘My mother got a leaflet about flu when I was ill. It said one must try to eat if possible. So will you try?’

  ‘On one condition—that you keep me company while I do.’

  ‘If you insist.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m asking you nicely!’

  Emily laughed and went off to the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom with a laden tray she found Lucas waiting with barely concealed impatience, the daily paper unopened beside him. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m used to cleaning your kitchen, but not cooking in it.’

  ‘Which you shouldn’t be doing at all,’ he said irritably.

  ‘Of course I should.’ She laid a clean towel across his chest. ‘Better use this now you’ve made the effort to change your bed.’ She handed him a fork and a plate of scrambled eggs on toast, then feeling a little awkward sat down again. ‘Salt, pepper?’ she asked. ‘I seasoned the eggs a bit, but you might want more.’

  ‘They’re perfect,’ he said, tasting them. ‘Now, entertain me while I eat. I can tell you’re not a Londoner. Where do you come from?’

  ‘Chastlecombe, in Gloucestershire.’

  ‘Snap—same county,’ he informed her with a grin. ‘We’re both country bumpkins, then.’

  Anything less like a country bumpkin than Lucas Tennent was hard to imagine. Even lying in bed, haggard and feverish. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said pertly, then bit her lip.

  ‘What now?’ he demanded.

  ‘I keep forgetting.’

  ‘Forgetting what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, right. Me boss, you slave.’

  Emily glared at him. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that!’

  ‘I should bloody well hope not,’ he said forcibly, and eyed his empty plate in surprise. ‘That was good. Thank you.’

  Emily took his plate to the kitchen, then returned shortly afterwards with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Lucas, then resumed her place in the chair. ‘You look a little better now,’ she said with approval.

  ‘I feel it.’ He drank with relish, then settled back against his pillows. ‘So tell me more, Emily. What course are you doing?’

  She winced. ‘I lied about that.’

  ‘Did you now?’ he said, eyeing her flushed face with amusement. ‘So what exactly are you doing on that laptop of yours? Hacking into state secrets?’

  ‘Nothing so exciting. I’m trying my hand at a novel. I make a sort of rough draft of the next bit in my head while I’m cleaning, then get it down on my laptop later. But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to lie to you when you caught me,’ she added bluntly, ‘I wouldn’t be telling you this. No one else knows, not even my family.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ he assured her, hand on heart. ‘But why the secrecy?’

  Her chin jutted. ‘I experienced a pretty humiliating form of rejection recently. If—or more likely when—the manuscript’s rejected, too, I’d rather no one knew about it.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  LUCAS eyed her with respect as she got up to refill his coffee cup. ‘You’re a lady of surprises, Emily.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. All my life, until recently, I did everything by the book.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Miles Denny happened.’ Emily sat down again. ‘My family disapproved. They don’t like him.’

  ‘I don’t either.’

  She laughed. ‘You haven’t met him.’

  ‘I don’t have to.’ He frowned. ‘Emily, I’ve got a name, but you haven’t used it yet. I thought we’d sorted that out.’

  She gave him a fulminating look, and jumped to her feet. ‘Right—Lucas! I’m going to clear up now.’

  ‘Don’t go yet! Please?’ His eyes met hers with a persuasion she found impossible to resist.

  ‘I’m still going to clear away and so on,’ she said firmly, picking up the coffee tray. ‘But I’ll come back afterwards for a fe
w minutes. Then you should try to sleep.’

  ‘I can do that when I’m alone,’ he said testily.

  While Emily loaded the dishwasher later she fought a losing battle with her common sense. She’d achieved her aim in coming here to check on Lucas Tennent, feed him, and make sure he wasn’t any worse. So she should go home once she’d finished her usual routine. But it was such balm to her dented ego to have a man like Lucas Tennent pleading for her company. Besides, she thought, brightening, it was all an aid to research. The more she saw of him, the more her fictional hero would take shape.

  She paid the living-room some attention, made sure the kitchen was immaculate, then cleaned the bathroom in the hall to complete at least part of her usual routine for Mondays. Afterwards she brushed her hair, used a lipstick, then went to rejoin Lucas, who regarded her with bloodshot, accusing eyes.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said, his jutting lip so much like young Tom Sedley in a strop that Emily bit back a smile.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.

  ‘You reminded me of someone.’

  He scowled. ‘Not the much-disliked Miles?’

  ‘No. I’m very fond of this someone.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Son of my landlord.’

  ‘One of the twins?’

  ‘You remembered,’ she said, surprised, and sat down in the armchair.

  ‘I remember everything you’ve told me so far,’ Lucas assured her. ‘I’ve felt too lousy to read, or watch television, so I lie here and think about you.’

  ‘Time I was going,’ she said hastily, and got up, but he lunged swiftly and caught her hand.

  ‘I was not coming on to you. I meant that you interest me.’

  Her eyebrows rose. ‘Is that a compliment?’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ he said simply, and released her hand.

  Appeased, Emily resumed her seat. ‘By the way, Lucas, the new number I left for you is unlisted. My family have it, of course, and my closest friend, but—’

  ‘Not Miles,’ he said, nodding.

  ‘That’s the problem. He’s got hold of it somehow. He rang me last night.’