by Mandy Baggot
Ugh! Business coach/life coach. She hated those sorts of people. In her opinion, they seemed to get paid an awful lot of money for boosting people’s egos and doling out plain old common sense. Believe in yourself. Make your own destiny. Anything is possible. Chase also didn’t sound like safe, head of industry, Big Bill at all. Where was his experience in construction or even just industry in the broadest sense? She needed to look up Chase Bryan’s photo on the website. She moved her fingers to the keyboard.
‘I looked him up on the website. No photo yet,’ Aaron stated. ‘One of those terrible grey “coming soon” images they really should get the tech guys on to.’
She would google him later. There must be some photos of him somewhere on the Internet. You didn’t get to be the CEO of a global firm without a history.
‘So, when does he get here?’ Aaron asked.
‘I have no idea.’ Isla was more concerned with the rapidly approaching Christmas party than this babysitting task that looked like it was going to take up all the time in her favourite month. She had hoped this December would be like all the others … full of celebration on what they had achieved in the year, back-to-back parties with all the clients she had helped, mince pies, prosecco and a little Michael Bublé on the sound system. Although she was still busy with her clients, December was special. It wasn’t about being anyone’s Go-To Girl. She felt tension creep into her shoulders. She would just have to keep ahead of the game. Take some of the party organisation home with her – maybe Hannah could help with things she didn’t need to know the theme for. Although Isla had never been good at delegating.
‘I don’t envy you,’ Aaron began. ‘That hospital project is enough of a hot potato without Mr U.S. of A. popping over the pond.’ He stretched his arms over his head, getting his watch caught in the string of a suspended pompom and struggling to get it out. ‘And … you have the Christmas party … no pressure … argh, help! Get me out of this thing!’
Aaron flapped his arm around like he was a large bird trying to take flight. Isla stood up, going to his aid and taking hold of the wool. Then she dropped her hands to her side and stamped her feet.
‘It’s no good. I’m so annoyed!’ She sounded like a child but she didn’t care. Only Aaron was listening and she needed to vent.
‘Why do I have to be the one looking after him? I am “top brass”, Denise even said so, and I have enough to do in December.’ All the lovely, glittery, sparkly things she enjoyed so much. ‘Robert knows that.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t his decision,’ Aaron suggested, looking at her with concern.
‘Well, whose decision would it have been? And why didn’t I know he was coming until he was imminently coming?’
‘I thought that about one of my exes.’
Isla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn’t just about Chase Bryan. This was about Hannah … liking Raj. She knew she shouldn’t be worried. She knew she was totally overprotective of her perfectly capable sister but …
‘Perhaps,’ Aaron began, ‘he asked for the hottest Go-To Girl in the building.’ He pointed a finger as if he had just come up with an Einstein-worthy theory. ‘Maybe he perused your photo on the website … you still have the one that makes you look like Drew Barrymore during her auburn stage, don’t you?’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Isla said. ‘And I don’t have to do it, do I?’ She felt her shoulders relax a little at the thought of absolutely shirking this new responsibility. ‘I can just say I don’t have the time.’ She nodded. ‘I really don’t have the time … I’m going to The Matthews Corporation party on Friday and there’s the big meeting with Cleggs coming up … and the … blini situation.’ She was making the canapé issue sound like it was right up there with world poverty. But the workforce could get a little antsy if they were hangry.
‘Well … I would just be a little careful if I were you,’ Aaron said.
Isla caught the note of warning in his tone. What did that mean? ‘Careful?’
‘I’m just saying, you remember Karen Kinsey?’
Karen Kinsey had left last year. Isla remembered only that there had been talk of a relocation to another Breekers office.
‘We all thought she went to Breekers Frankfurt, yes?’
‘She didn’t?’ Isla queried with a swallow.
Aaron sniffed. ‘Nothing wrong with it but …’ He looked over his shoulder as if expecting to be hauled into an interrogation room. ‘You’ll find her in the M&S Simply Food at Waterloo.’
‘No!’ Isla exclaimed. Karen Kinsey had been far more experienced than her, had seemed destined to beat Isla to the role of Robert’s right-hand woman. ‘But … why would she have been sacked?’
‘Not sacked, darling, they’re far too clever for that. Let’s just call it a parting of ways.’ His eyes shifted sideways. ‘Rumour is … she was paid to leave.’
‘But why?’
‘Well, don’t take it as gospel but … I heard she passed on a client Robert wanted her to take on. Something to do with ethical reasons … maybe they wanted the bricks to be made out of the wrong type of shale … anyway, all I know is she made a stand and her stand got her …’ He looked over his shoulder again. ‘Relieved of her duties here to take up stacking sushi and wasabi peas for commuters.’
‘You think I should do it,’ Isla guessed. ‘Be this Go-To Girl.’
‘I don’t want to see you with your hands on all things raw day in and day out.’
‘It won’t be for long, will it?’ she asked. ‘A week tops, do you think?’
‘And he might be hot,’ Aaron added.
‘And he’s not a postman with mysterious eyes,’ Isla murmured.
‘What?’ Aaron queried. ‘Now that sounds intriguing. I do love a guy in shorts. They do still wear shorts whatever the weather, don’t they?’
‘Sorry, ignore me … just thinking out loud.’
Aaron shook his head. ‘You and Ed Sheeran, eh?’ He sucked in a breath, his torso stretching. ‘Now, there’s a guy I’d like to get to know better. Guitarists,’ he mused. ‘Always know exactly what to do with their fingers.’
Eight
Westbourne Grove, Notting Hill
This was it. Chase had his feet on the ground where change was going to happen. He looked around, taking in the houses, independent shops and parkland, and seeing buildings almost as dilapidated as he felt. If ever there was an area in desperate need of rejuvenation it was this one. He had never been one for history. One man’s prized antiques was another man’s worn-out old crap. The plans weren’t final yet. This was one of the three proposed sites, but it was the one he was gunning for, the one that was getting him super-excited. And, when the builders moved in and Breekers’ first super-hotel and entertainment village in the UK was constructed, everyone was going to be talking about it … and wanting to stay in it.
He looked across the street at Sugar High, the mocha-painted coffee shop he had left Maddie and Brooke in. It was cutesy, with two decorated fir trees in pots outside the door, strings of silver tinsel and gold baubles hung inside from the window frames. The girls had gone crazy over the cakes and were happy to be left with hot chocolates and two large cupcakes decorated in all manner of spun-sugar craziness he never understood the attraction of. They had eaten British pies with mashed potatoes, vegetables and gravy for lunch, washed down with tea – a rather un-fancy plain white coffee for him – and, finally, Brooke’s ill-humour about being in London seemed to be breaking.
In the pocket of his jeans his phone rumbled. Another message and he could guess right away who it would be from. Leanna. He had had five messages since they had arrived in London. If it’s cold make sure Maddie wears a hat. You can try with Brooke but good luck with it. Followed by: Have you landed? Call me. Then: Why haven’t you called me? Don’t do this, Chase. We promised to be adult and I’m keeping my side of the bargain. And finally: I asked to talk to YOU. An emoji of the British flag from Brooke is not telling me anything!!!
He
pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the latest message. Colt says if you don’t communicate with me during this trip you will be in breach of the terms of the court arrangement.
Colt. His teeth were gritting together already. Colt was the whole fucking problem. He should have kicked his ass a long time ago. He had just about messed up his life and taken everything from him … except this one thing, this new opportunity at Breekers. The chance to put the new improved him to the test. He was going to show his children that a boy with a dream to walk on the moon could still reach it in a different way no matter what struggles there had been in the past. That sacrificing everything you always wanted wasn’t the end of dreaming big, it was just the beginning of a new path. He swallowed. After the way everything had turned out for him with his family? So many Square Ones. Did he believe that mantra? He had to. There was no other way.
‘O-Y-F,’ he spoke out loud. ‘Own your future.’
Nine
Sugar High, Westbourne Grove, Notting Hill
‘Oh! I so need this!’
Hannah’s exclamation as she sunk her teeth into what café owner Vicky had christened the Mulled Christmas Muffin, was so loud Mrs Smith’s little brown terrier, Rolo, let out a bark.
Isla needed it too. She had skipped lunch, instead resolving to solve the missing blini mystery – still no reply from the catering firm – and making a start on the finer details of the ‘hot-potato’ Ridgepoint Hospital project. Deadlines for submitting for planning were getting tight if the building was going to be sticking to the original proposed timescale. Now it was almost six o’clock and she had abandoned the thought of buying the feather Christmas tree in favour of taking her sister here for sustenance.
‘What’s in this, Vicky?’ Hannah asked through a mouthful of crumbs.
‘Oh, Hannah, you know I can’t tell you that,’ brown-haired, forty-something Vicky answered, squeezing between tables with a full tray of drinks and more cakes in her hands. ‘I’ve heard on the grapevine that that new coffee shop – you know the one that seems to be adding orange blossom to everything – has been sending spies here to see how we do things at Sugar High.’
‘You know I wouldn’t tell,’ Hannah insisted, filling her mouth again. ‘And I’m not a spy,’ she added. ‘Pretty hard to go incognito in a wheelchair.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Vicky replied. ‘It’s always the ones in plain sight you have to watch.’ She ducked her head closer as she got to their table. ‘My money’s on Rolo.’
Hannah laughed out loud and the little dog barked again. ‘Shall I give him some of my muffin?’
‘No!’ Isla said quickly. ‘Remember what Mrs Smith said last week? He’s on a special diet after he got pancreatitis from that overdose of leftover Chinese chicken balls she gave him.’
‘I’m not sure you can overdose on chicken balls, can you?’
‘That wasn’t supposed to be the start of a food dare so don’t go getting any ideas,’ Isla said, wiping her lips with a napkin.
‘So,’ Hannah said, leaning over the table and talking in hushed tones. ‘Who do we think the stranger is?’
Isla knew exactly who her sister was talking about. They came to Sugar High so much they knew almost everyone who regularly frequented the place. And today, sitting in one of the window seats, was a brown-haired teenage girl.
‘Tourist,’ Isla responded. ‘Visiting student. Maybe Polish.’ The girl had an iPhone in her hand and seemed to be mouthing some words as her eyes looked at the screen.
‘Alone though?’ Hannah asked. ‘She doesn’t really look old enough to be completely on her own.’
Isla shook her head. ‘Speaks the girl who demanded to walk to the postbox at the far end of our street on her own when she was six.’
‘I was mature for my age.’
‘And stubborn.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ She grinned. ‘It’s actually on my CV as a positive.’ Hannah gasped suddenly, her eyes back on the girl. ‘Two plates and cups. Phew! She’s waiting for someone.’
Hannah was right. And now the girl was looking wistfully out of the window. Was she waiting for someone? Maybe a mum or a gran …
‘So, are we going to invite the couple at number eleven over for dinner?’ Hannah asked, sipping her hot chocolate.
Isla had forgotten all about that crusade after everything that had happened at work. She looked back to Hannah. ‘Oh … well …’
‘Isla! You said we could!’
‘We can,’ Isla responded. ‘Just, maybe not tonight. I’ve got a lot on and …’ She had planned to run a steaming hot bath, light some cinnamon-and-apple-scented candles, pour a glass of prosecco and not think too hard about what tomorrow might bring at Breekers. Plus, she really ought to think about making their traditional Christmas baked fayre to freeze for the big day. Their mum had always made thick, shortcrust sausage rolls and deep-filled mince pies with little holly leaves of pastry on top.
‘Everything is going okay with the party-planning?’
‘Mmm,’ Isla said through a mouthful of muffin. She wasn’t committing to anything when she felt this much out of control. And the news of Karen Kinsey’s current employment had scarily niggled away at her all day.
‘That wasn’t convincing,’ Hannah replied. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had to scrimp on the shrimp.’
Isla swallowed. She was still half-expecting Chase Bryan to be coming over here solely to discuss her budget for the annual festivities. However, in her new role as his ‘Go-To Girl’ she could easily become economical with the sharing of underling information. He was surely far too important to worry about catering.
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed and Isla looked up from her plate.
‘Bloody hell!’ Hannah announced, the end of the muffin dropping out of her fingers and hitting the plate.
She didn’t need to ask why Hannah was practically salivating. It had nothing to do with the contents of Vicky’s Christmas muffin, it was all down to the man who had just come into the café.
Tall, well-built, with an athletic vibe going on. Tawny hair sort of muzzed into a style, stubble on his jaw and wearing jeans that flattered every inch of him. He wore a T-shirt declaring NY Jets under a tan brown leather bomber jacket that couldn’t possibly be warm enough for the temperature outside … but visually it was pretty much perfect.
‘Tourist,’ Isla said, without even realising. She seemed to be making everyone in London a tourist today.
‘A fucking hot-as-shit tourist,’ Hannah stated way too loudly.
‘Han!’ Isla exclaimed.
‘Well! Look. At. Him.’
Isla couldn’t deny this was an attractive guy, but now he seemed to be heading towards the teenage girl. Now her danger senses were being poked. What if the girl was meeting this man after chatting to him on the Internet? Maybe he had courted her for months, telling her he liked Justin Bieber and was in Year 7.
‘That’s him,’ Hannah breathed. ‘That’s who I have to have my kiss with.’
‘What?!’ Isla exclaimed. ‘No! No … because … what about … you said … you like Raj.’
‘I know.’ Hannah breathed a sigh. ‘But …’
‘But your head’s been turned in five seconds.’ She was torn between admonishing her sister and keeping an eye on what was going on a few tables away. The girl was smiling at the guy. She was almost waiting for him to get a packet of sweeties out of his pocket.
‘And you’re the one who’s still looking at him,’ Hannah remarked.
Yes, she was. Because she was thinking he was a paedophile about to hit on an innocent girl who didn’t know any better, not because she wanted some Disney-style kiss with him.
The man put his hand on the younger girl’s shoulder then kissed the top of her head, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Right, that was it …
Ten
‘I think you need to leave. Right now.’
Chase wondered if that question w
as directed at him. It was a woman’s voice and she sounded annoyed. He turned around and there she was, right at his shoulder. Auburn hair sat on her shoulders and her wide blue eyes were sparkling. But their beauty was off-set by her angry expression.
‘Excuse me?’ he answered, all the while racking his brain as to what British etiquette he had fouled up to get her so riled.
‘I know what you’re doing,’ she snarled. ‘And you either leave, right now, or I’m going to make a citizen’s arrest.’
‘A what now?’ Who was this woman? The last time he was in London he was pretty sure there hadn’t been sheriffs. He stood his ground and folded his arms across his chest.
‘Hannah,’ the woman said, eyes shooting to the left then quickly resting back with him. ‘You need to call the police.’
‘What?’
Another woman had spoken now. She was three tables away, in a wheelchair.
‘Ma’am, I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding,’ he began.
‘Don’t ma’am me!’ Isla ordered. ‘I’m not an innocent, naïve teenager who falls for chat about Shawn Mendes and … Pretty Little Liars.’
‘No?’ he asked. ‘I actually quite like that show.’
‘Oh, I just bet you say that to all the vulnerable kids you stalk on social media,’ she erupted.
‘What?!’ Now he was starting to get a little mad himself. What was this?
‘Hannah, have you called the police?’ the woman questioned loudly.
‘Um … did you really mean that?’ came the reply.
‘Listen,’ he began. ‘I don’t know what you think I’ve done but—’
‘Daddy,’ Maddie interrupted as she came back to the table. ‘Are we in trouble?’
Daddy.
Isla turned around to see another girl standing just behind her, younger with fair hair. She was brushing her hands together and looking at the man with wide, confused eyes.
Oh God. She wanted the floor of Vicky’s café to turn into sticky Christmas pudding so she could sink right into it and drown in brandy-infused sultanas. What had she done?
