Secret Millionaire

by Kitty Alexander

  Mark looked. ‘It’s a weasel,’ he told her in a whisper, quickly grabbing Bosun’s collar and clipping on his lead. ‘We must be down wind. It hasn’t noticed us yet. If we creep forward, we might see more of them.’

  Alexia smiled at him, an expression of pure joy on her face. Mark didn’t know many women who would be quite so excited by something so very simple. Slowly, they crept forward together, hiding behind a low outcrop of rock, communicating in hand gestures. Only when Bosun – who was unable to see anything over the rock – had settled down, did Mark nod at Alexia and lift his head slowly to take a look. And when he did, a magical sight met his eyes. A family of weasels were at play – four or five of them – maybe even six. They moved so fast, it was difficult to keep tabs on how many of them there were. They were chasing each other around rocks and down into their holes, then popping up to do it all over again.

  Alexia was smiling with delight, and caught his eye to share the moment. Mark smiled back, equally entranced, but as much by Alexia’s pleasure at the scene than by the weasels themselves. It would have gone on longer, but all at once a couple came over the brow of the hill, and the weasels scooted for their holes, leaving no trace of their ever having been there.

  The couple, who were holding hands, wore identical waterproof coats and woolly hats. They were taken by surprise when Mark and Alexia got to their feet from behind the rocks.

  ‘Taking a breather, are you?’ said the man. ‘It’s not far to the top now.’

  Mark smiled and nodded, not telling them about the magic they’d interrupted. It was his and Alexia’s secret. ‘That’s good to hear,’ he said, and after Alexia had got her boot back on and tied her jumper around her waist, it seemed natural to take her hand as they began walking again. And when her fingers curled around his, his heart sang. They were almost at the top. Another few panting steps, and they were there.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Alexia, standing there looking at the view, her hand still in his. ‘It’s incredible.’

  She was right, it was. He’d been up here so many times, but there had never been an evening quite like this. The sun was starting to go down, and the sky was a fiery orange and a deep purple above the soft, distant hills. The hills closer to them – either side of the reservoir – were a thick, velvet black, and the water itself was reflecting the colour of the sky.

  ‘The lake looks as if it’s made of glass,’ Alexia breathed. ‘Floating tangerine-coloured glass…’

  The fields just below the rocks they were standing on were a bright, moss green, the colour standing sharply out in contrast to the dark hills, and it seemed to him as if Alexia belonged here. Weren’t her eyes that exact green? Wasn’t her hair the same copper gold colour as the sky just above the horizon?

  Suddenly, Mark knew everything would be all right. Something this good had to mean something. It was safe to talk, to ask her the question that must be asked, because what they had here was too strong to be splintered by anything ugly. He would speak, he would hear her explanation, and then they could move on. He would hold her in his arms and he would kiss her, as was right in front of such a sunset on such a night. He didn’t need to worry about the future and whether their relationship would work out. It would work out because he chose to make it work out.

  ‘Alexia,’ he started. ‘About the other night…’

  But she spoke at exactly the same time. ‘Mark, why didn’t you…?’

  They both stopped speaking to smile at each other. But there was something different about her smile – and a seriousness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. It reminded him of the photo he’d seen of her with her parents.

  ‘You go first,’ he said, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, you. Please.’

  He could see the colours of the sky reflected in her eyes. ‘I know your father,’ he said, still half-thinking of the photograph.

  Immediately, something changed in her face; she looked wary.

  ‘Do you?’ she said, her voice slightly cool.

  Hell! Why had he mentioned it? ‘Yes,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ve had business dealings with him… But that’s not what I want to talk about. To ask you.’

  ‘What did you want to ask me?’

  ‘Well, it was about the other week. In Nottingham – the afternoon after the fashion show, I…’ He paused.

  ‘Yes?’ she prompted.

  ‘I finished at the young person’s charity early; I was going to drop in on you at The Heath Centre; surprise you. But when I got there…’ He looked away from her, down at his feet for a moment, hateful memories filling his mind. Then he looked up again. ‘I saw you in the café, just up the road from the Centre. That man who bid for a dance with you at the fashion show – Chris – he was holding you. You looked… well, he didn’t look like an ex.’ He paused, then asked, ‘Is he?’

  Mark wasn’t sure he’d expressed himself exactly as he’d wanted to, but it was out there now, in the open. She only had to answer; to reassure him, and then everything would be all right.

  Except that Alexia didn’t answer right away, and as Mark stood waiting nervously for her response, the sun dipped below the horizon, taking with it the light from her eyes. Then she said, ‘I want to go back.’ And she turned and walked away.

  * * * * *

  Mark thought she was the type of person who would sleep with him – would share the kind of passion they had shared – when she was still with Chris. He thought she’d lied to him. That she was a two-timing, scheming tart. And what’s more, he did regular business with her father. How had she managed to forget what people how people like that behaved? Mark might offer jobs to people down on their luck and rescue stray dogs, but underneath it all, he was just like all his type – keen to think the very worst of people.

  Alexia felt suddenly unclean and deeply hurt – the way she had when Chris had told her he wasn’t going to marry her, and in all the weeks that had followed as she struggled to rebuild her life.

  ‘If I don’t agree to end our engagement, your father won’t put any money into my business.’

  As Alexia hurried down the hill away from Mark, she could still remember the way she’d grabbed Chris’s arms, forcing him to meet her eyes. The wedding was weeks away; this couldn’t be happening. It wouldn’t happen.

  ‘What do you mean? Why would he say such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.’

  Alexia shook her head, feeling a confused panic spread like sickness through her body. ‘Why should he think that? It’s stupid. But even if he does, you’re not marrying my father – you’re marrying me.’

  Chris reached up to take her hands from his arms. ‘No, that’s what I’m telling you; I’m not. I can’t. Lexy, I need his backing. I know it’s unfair, but I can’t turn this opportunity down. I’m so very sorry.’

  Now, on the hill, Mark was shouting to her. ‘Alexia, stop! You’re going the wrong way!’

  She ignored him, his words barely making an impression on her. It was cold now that the sun had gone; she needed to put her jumper on again. But there was no way she was stopping to do that. He would catch her up, and she didn’t want to be with him right now. When they got back to the car, she would have to sit next to him for the journey home. All this coming week, she would have to work with him. But first of all, she needed to harden her heart and to push out all the thoughts of sunsets and special glances and sweet weasel families. He was a man, and an attractive one. But men had always treated her badly, as soon as she begun to care for them. And by showing what he thought of her character, Mark had made her see that he was no different to all the rest.

  She’d thought Chris loved her, but he’d chosen his business over her. She’d thought her father loved her, but he’d deliberately broken up her relationship. She was a lousy judge of character.

  It began to rain heavily, the needles of water peppering her face and taking her by as much surprise as Chris’s r
ejection had done five years previously. Those dark purple clouds that had been a part of the sunset had been a warning; a glimpse of the future. And as she had so often done in the past few years, Alexia wondered if there had been any warning clouds in her relationship with Chris. Could she have done something to prevent the split if she hadn’t been so caught up with arrangements for bridesmaid dresses and seating plans?

  The sudden deluge was proving too much for the ground to absorb after a long summer of being dried out by the sun, and the path was quickly becoming a stream. Alexia’s boots were soon soaked through, sending her skidding and squelching and forcing her to slow down.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. She tried to flinch from it, but the grip was too strong. ‘Stop, Alexia,’ Mark said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the teeming rain. ‘You’re going the wrong way. Look, we didn’t come through a field of cows.’

  The fog and the rain cleared from her eyes for long enough for her to be able to see that he was right. A herd of cows was moving quickly through the rain towards them. Too quickly.

  ‘Come on,’ Mark shouted, and as she followed him and Bosun, her feet sliding in the mud, water penetrated the hood of her waterproof and slid down her neck.

  It was almost dark now beneath the heavy clouds, and it was getting difficult to see any obstacles in the way. Alexia stood on a loose piece of stone and would have stumbled if Mark hadn’t caught hold of her. After that, she was forced to accept his help. But after they’d finally reached the car and thrown themselves inside to drip on its expensive seats, Alexia leant against the window, panting, her body as far away from Mark’s as it was possible for it to be.

  ‘Please, Alexia,’ he said through the noise of the rain pounding on the car, ‘if I got it wrong; if you’re not in a relationship with him, just tell me!’

  She didn’t look at him; just kept her gaze facing out of the window, into the darkness. There was nothing to say. ‘Take me back please. I want to go back.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mark dropped Bosun off early next morning, surprising Iris in her dressing gown and not hanging around for long enough to answer questions about sunsets. At work, he pulled the blinds against the view and bent over his neglected in-tray, prioritising tasks. When Charlotte arrived, he was in the middle of a Skype call to Poland, and merely raised a hand to thank her when she brought him a cup of coffee.

  It wasn’t until mid morning that Charlotte had the chance to speak to him properly. ‘I just took a call from David Higgins – I’m afraid his wife’s been in a car accident. She’s in intensive care.’

  Mark looked up, genuinely concerned. ‘Oh, no, Poor David. Will she be all right? Is she badly injured?’ David Higgins was his Sales Director, and had one of the few truly happy marriages Mark knew about. The poor man would be devastated.

  ‘They think so, but it’s likely to be a long haul. She has a broken pelvis, and a broken leg. David was worried about the deal with Tiger Foods, but I told him we’d cover it.’

  Tiger Foods – Alexia’s father’s company. How very ironic. Suddenly, Mark remembered the way Alexia’s expression had closed off when he had mentioned having business dealings with her father. It had been strange – almost as if he’d shot himself in the foot before he’d even begun to ask her about Chris.

  ‘Bring me the files on it, could you? I’ll see what’s outstanding. And I’ll call David myself to reassure him. The last thing he needs is to worry about work.’

  ‘Of course. I think the deal was pretty sewn up though. David’s been dealing with Tony O’Donnell, Kenneth Bright’s successor – you know Kenneth Bright is due to retire soon? I think David had been invited to his retirement party.’

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘On Saturday, I think. I’ll get the files for you.’

  It would be crazy to go to the party in the hope of seeing Alexia, wouldn’t it? If he wanted to see her, he only had to walk the few metres from his mobile home to the house and knock. And no doubt she’d be at the party with Chris. Last night, driving home, her silence had told him all he needed to know about her feelings for him. He’d only end up getting even more hurt than he was already.

  When he’d asked her about Chris, she’d just blocked him out, refusing to answer. What did that mean? He couldn’t even begin to guess. If the man meant nothing to her, surely she would have said? Mark knew he ought to be feeling relieved that he’d had a lucky escape – if communication was that bad between them before they were even properly involved, then what good would it be to try to move forward with her?

  So why did he have such a persistently niggling feeling that even now, there was unfinished business between them?

  Charlotte came back in with some paperwork and a memory stick. ‘I think this is everything. David said he’d ring in when he could to check we had everything we needed. The party invitation’s in the folder. It’s this Saturday.’

  After she’d left, Mark sat there for a while, holding the invitation. The deal with Tiger Foods was a potentially lucrative one – it would only be polite for his company to be represented. Ignoring the knowledge that he had any number of employees he could have sent in David’s place, Mark buzzed through to Charlotte to ask her to say he would be attending instead.

  If nothing else, then seeing Alexia with Chris would surely bring him closure.

  * * * * *

  Late on Saturday afternoon, Alexia got ready for the party. She’d felt sick all day, and had barely been able to eat anything. If her father hadn’t been so ill, there was no way she would be going tonight. Her mother would be disappointed, but she’d get over it. As for her father, why should he care? He’d happily ignored her existence for the past five years.

  But he was ill, so she was going. And, as she was going, she intended to do her best to look stunning. Nobody, looking at her, would realise what a complete nervous wreck she was inside. Nobody would know that she was reliving every second of her last awful meeting with her father, when she’d told him she hated him, and she never wanted to see him again.

  The shiny gold satin of her dress slipped over her skin as she pulled it on. She’d seen the dress modelled by someone else in the fashion show, and gone out a week later to buy it. Crazy, really, that she’d been able to do that, when she’d been feeling so upset about the situation with Mark. And now, here she was, getting ready to wear it, and she was still upset about him. Only somehow, this time, it felt worse. The other evening, at Ladybower, had been a glimpse of what their lives together could be – not just about passion and attraction, but about shared interests, companionship and laughter. Pretty much the perfect combination.

  The dress fitted her perfectly – a gleaming river of shining gold fabric, it curved over her breasts and her hips, leaving her back almost bare. It was a confident dress – a dress that shouted, look at me! I’m doing well in the world! What a fraud, Alexia told her self, looking at her reflection. She sighed heavily, glancing out of the window at the swaying copper beech trees for a moment. Then she turned her back. Some carefully applied make-up was what she needed – something that would help to shape her expression into one befitting the dress. All she had to do was to stand up tall, make eye contact and smile as if nothing and nobody could hurt her. It was what she was going to have to do for the rest of her life. Either that or hide herself away forever.

  Closing her mind to that appealing idea, Alexia tried to think herself into the evening ahead. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the delight that would be on her mother’s face when she arrived. But her father? How would she greet him after all this time? And knowing how ill he was? It was a party; she couldn’t talk about his illness. And yet, if she didn’t talk about it, there would be no opportunity to say the things she wanted to say, and that was why she was going, wasn’t it? To somehow try to make peace with him before it was too late. Not that she even knew if he wanted that…

  Alexia sighed and sat down to put on her make-up, trying to divert herself
by thinking of happier things. Like Bert’s face, when Mark had offered him the job the previous day. They’d been working on the pond, clearing out the stagnant weed, when Mark had come by. It was the first time Alexia seen him since their walk, and it had been a shock to look up and see him there. For a moment, she was acutely aware that her arms and clothes were covered in green slime. But then she remembered it didn’t matter anymore. And in any case, Mark didn’t look at her directly; he just gave them all a general smile.

  ‘I won’t interrupt your hard work,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to speak to Bert. D’you mind coming to the mobile home, Bert?’

  Bert looked rather taken aback. Alexia smiled at him encouragingly. ‘Go ahead, Bert,’ she said.

  ‘All right, boss,’ he said, wiping his arms on the old towel they’d brought for the purpose. And he’d walked off after Mark, his shoulders drooping.

  ‘He in trouble?’ Peter asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Alexia said, getting on with her work.

  ‘What’s it about then?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  Half and hour later, Bert returned, looking shell-shocked. ‘Boss Brown’s offered me a job,’ he said. ‘Here. Despite everything. Can’t believe it, I can’t.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, mate!’ said Peter, and Derek gave a low whistle.

  Bert shook his head. ‘Like I said, I can’t believe it.’ Then he looked at Alexia. ‘Thank you, boss. I’m sure you had something to do with it. He wants to see you, by the way.’

  ‘Now?’

  Bert nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right.’ She forced a smile onto her face, wiped her arms on the soggy towel and reached out to give him a hug. ‘You got this job offer all by yourself, Bert. You’re a hard worker – a good worker. Anybody can see that. Congratulations.’

  Mark was waiting for her by the mobile home. He was holding his car keys. ‘I told Bert he could start on Monday; I hope that’s all right? I thought you could work alongside him for a week; give him an idea of how to go about things. But if that timescale doesn’t suit you, let me know.’