London Bound (A Heart of the City romance Book 3)

by C. J. Duggan

I sobered in an instant. What could I say? I had nothing, there was no getting out of this hell. I was more trapped than ever and I could feel my heart plummet, and a cold sweat begin at the base of my spine.

  ‘Tomorrow sounds good,’ I lied.

  I saw the effect of my words: they rolled over Nana and instantly defused the bomb. Her edges softened, and she nodded her head in one curt movement.

  ‘Tomorrow, then; now help me down the stairs, Katherine, you dragging me up here is no good for my ankle, honestly.’

  I followed Nana out, repressing my sigh and the fleeting evil thoughts I had.

  Help her, Kate, don’t push her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Now remember, Vera, I am coming down with something that is ghastly and contagious and I really don’t want to infect anyone.’

  Vera’s head tilted as she folded washing, her knowing eyes taking in the baggy dressing gown that engulfed me. ‘Do I even want to know what you are up to? No, actually, don’t answer that, I don’t want to incriminate myself any further than I already am.’

  ‘I just don’t want to be disturbed.’

  Vera’s eyes trailed down my robe to the pretty antique rose-coloured marcellina heels I was wearing, a stark contrast of glam against my robe. ‘Oh, I think you’re already disturbed,’ Vera teased.

  I sighed, shaking my head. ‘You have no idea.’

  If I was going to be subjected to Nana Joy’s book club I would be more than disturbed – I’d be certifiable.

  ‘I guess the real question is, should I be worried?’ Vera asked seriously, gathering the pile of laundry and dumping it on top of the washing basket.

  ‘Of course not,’ I said, tightening my robe and glancing at the clock, aware that the sleeping dragon would soon be stirring. ‘Just having a me day,’ I said, proud of myself for thinking of such an excuse to escape today’s fate. As for the rest of my life, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but for now I felt flooded with relief. That is, until an infamous voice sounded down the call.

  ‘Vera!’

  Boom-boom.

  ‘Where’s my tea?’

  I flinched, startled by the shrill sound of her voice, the echo of walking stick on floorboard. I had to get out of here.

  I carefully side-stepped past Nana’s closed bedroom door.

  ‘Look who’s awake,’ Vera said. I brought my finger to my lips, rounding the stairs, quickly and quietly making my way up, peeling off my robe to unveil the outfit I had been dressed in since the sun came up. I tried not to think about how crazy eager about my day that had made me look; still, no one had to know, and they certainly needn’t know I had agonised for near on an hour over the selection of said outfit. I had finally settled on my favourite metallic multi-dot skirt and black rosette sweater, a stark contrast to the blonde braid that fell over my shoulder. My Marcellina heels might have set off my outfit but, as I only just realised, my audience weren’t going to be able to see my shoes.

  My audience.

  Just thinking about it brought butterflies to my stomach. I picked up my notes from my desk, bundling them into my arms and tiptoeing across my room and through the door, closing it behind me. I paused as I peered down the stairs, a new fear raising its ugly head, remembering how Nana had made her way up them despite her bad ankle. It made what I was doing all the more dangerous – she could come and find me at any time. It was what made the timing of today’s shoot all the more important: I had to be in and out and done while she was distracted. I opened the door to the secret room, allowing myself a moment to take in the sight before me. The lighting stands had been erected and the lamps strategically placed and tested. I felt positively giddy, seeing how incredible the backdrop of Nana’s beautiful belongings looked on camera, the baby blue of the shelves and the stark white of the cornices; the only other colour came from the twinkling golden beams of the crystals from the chandelier and the rainbow line of the clothes themselves. I shut the door behind me, and set up my station for the day. I had already taken some footage and still shots to edit for the intro, and had allotted myself four hours to make as many episodes as I could, allowing enough time to change my clothes and hair between takes and alter the setting a little, in an effort to make out each video was shot on a different day.

  It was the perfect crime.

  I sat in the chair that I had borrowed from Nana’s dressing table in the next room; it was pale pink and incredibly plush. I felt like a queen on her throne ready to share my world with the world wide web, even if it was going to be somewhat of a lie. I decided not to mention that the pieces belonged to someone else; I was simply sitting in a room filled with beautiful things, offering case studies and ‘favourites’ segments in order to provoke discussion. No one had to know that my real life was far less luxe than this. None of my family or friends knew of my blog, and that was exactly the way I wanted to keep it. No one would connect my blog with the real Kate, the one imprisoned in her nana’s spare room, lusting after her neighbour – the man she could never have. No, sitting down, pressing record and confidently smiling through my introduction and backstory about my love of fashion, food and travel, I knew the world would see a different Kate Brown, the one I wanted them to see. I would become the confident, knowledgeable, interesting ‘Kate on the Thames’, because for now, as I held up one of Nana’s brown alligator bags, which I had teamed with a pair of 1940s-inspired brown block-heeled shoes and a well-cut, inky-blue blazer, I suddenly felt alive. This was me, this was what I wanted to do, this was living in the moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A hand waved in front of my face.

  My attention flicked up from my laptop screen, confused, until I saw Vera’s angry face, her finger to her lips as a gesture to be quiet. She glanced back at my bedroom door, ever watchful, as I peeled off my headset.

  ‘Are you deliberately trying to get caught?’

  ‘Sorry?’ I double-blinked, thinking how meticulous I had been, taking out the lighting equipment, returning everything to its rightful place, including the borrowed chair. I had even wiped down the glass vanity and cabinetry, careful to remove any fingerprints; no stone was left unturned. It was like I had never been there, despite the evidence I was now editing on my computer.

  ‘Could you slam the door any louder?’

  I blinked, trying to cast my memory back, and how I had stumbled through my bedroom door with my arms full of the clothes I had changed into for each episode, frantically kicking the door closed behind me. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ I winced.

  ‘Ah, yeah, the whole house shook; I had to make out that I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Oh, right, sorry,’ I said, still in a bit of a daze.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I looked back at Vera, my eyes wide and my smile broadening as I sat forward in my chair and took the headphones off my neck, trying to contain my excitement.

  ‘Oh Vera, I had the best day!’ I said.

  The sternness etched across Vera’s face melted away. ‘Well, I am pleased to hear that. It was worth sacrificing the book club, then?’

  I cringed, thinking about the event I had managed to escape.

  ‘Did Nana ask about me? Was she desperately concerned for my welfare?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t say a lot.’

  ‘You can tell me, you know, I have developed a rather thick skin.’

  ‘Well, not according to Nana Joy, who said you were just like your mother and your grandfather: no backbone, just soft underbellies.’

  I laughed, thinking back to all of my near-on meltdowns in the face of Nana Joy’s wrath. I certainly wasn’t as strong as her, or as well put together as my mum, or likely to be held in such high esteem as my granddad, but I liked to think I would go down in history for something more than histrionics. Maybe that was why I was passionate about blogging, about leaving a mark on the planet no matter how superficial it may seem. Or maybe I was just hopelessly materialistic and desperately vying for attention like Nana.<
br />
  God forbid.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you had a good “me” day.’

  ‘I did!’ I beamed, excited at the possibility of making this all work, that I could be truly happy here, in my own way.

  ‘All right, but maybe try to have some dinner downstairs tonight, I can only keep Joy at bay for so long.’

  The smile fell from my face. ‘I’m pretty sure I would still be deemed highly contagious.’

  Vera tilted her head. ‘Kate, please.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come down.’ I sighed, feeling suddenly weary.

  ‘Oh, and Kate.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘You might want to wash the make-up from your face and look a little bit more …’

  ‘Miserable?’

  ‘Yes, let’s go with that.’

  I nodded. ‘Give me two-point-five seconds in Nana’s company and I doubt I will even have to pretend.’

  I cleaned my room, showered, and dined with Nana, who was in fine form, sipping on her small glass of sherry.

  ‘I am not going to lie, Katherine, but when you were born, I was bitterly disappointed.’

  Vera choked on her water, glancing at me as if she regretted subjecting me to this. But something was happening, some new strange feeling was growing inside me that had me grabbing for my own drink.

  ‘Is that so, Nana? Well, that’s no good,’ I said, relaxed and unconcerned. Vera was looking at me as if she was afraid that I might snap at any moment: the calm before the storm. But it wasn’t like that – I just felt nothing. Nana’s words couldn’t hurt me anymore; instead, my mind would simply go back to my happy place, the world of my blog. And any time I thought about the beautiful world I’d constructed, there was nothing Nana could say to alter my mood.

  ‘Katherine, are you still unwell? You have the most frightfully dopey expression on your face – are you on drugs?’

  ‘I’m just high on life, Nana; in fact, what have we got planned for tomorrow? Bridge with the girls, a matinee at the theatre perhaps, or are we knitting mini jumpers for orphaned penguins?’ I asked, leaning my elbows on the table, knowing how much it annoyed her.

  Nana seemed a bit unsettled when she looked at me. ‘Katherine, I think you should go lie down, you’re not well.’

  ‘Maybe you just need some fresh air, Kate, you have been cooped up all day,’ Vera said, wiggling her brows.

  Maybe that’s what I needed. Perhaps I’d had a little too much artificial lighting for one day. I glanced at the time. It was near on six; Jack would be home soon and fight it as I might, even on a good day he dominated my thoughts. It was going to take some time to shake him from my mind. Still, there was a part of me that wanted to tell him that I had been living in the moment, and I was more than happy for him to flash me that sexy smirk and tell me ‘I told you so’; in fact, it would kind of be the icing on the cake.

  I stood up from the table. ‘I think I might just sit outside for a bit, read a little maybe. Can you recommend a good book, Nana?’

  Nana scoffed. ‘Well, Richard and Judy certainly have no idea.’

  I stifled my laugh. ‘Fair enough, I’ll just grab something from the shelf then.’

  ‘Why don’t you read in the back garden, it’s much safer,’ Nana called after me.

  ‘Oh, it’s okay, I don’t mind watching the world go by,’ I said, choosing a random novel and heading for the door.

  It wasn’t until I was settled on the little stoop out front that I started to doubt everything. Would I seem like a complete stalker if I was sitting out front waiting for him?

  No, no, I was on my doorstep, not his. A girl is allowed to read random literature from the comfort of her own doorway, for God’s sake. I quite looked forward to reading … I flipped the book over in my hands.

  ‘Oh, dear God.’

  It was some kind of pirate romance novel; the cover featured a shirtless Fabio and a buxom blonde pawing at his trousers, looking up at him longingly.

  ‘Jesus, Nana. You dark horse, you.’

  This would not work, not at all, my street cred would not recover from being found reading Shipwrecked Hearts. But I couldn’t bear the thought of going back inside to find a replacement, and figured it might at least prove amusing, so I opened to the first page, clearing my throat and sceptically reading on.

  By chapter three I was hooked; by chapter six I was biting my thumbnail, turning the page eagerly to see if Calypso Chesterfield would be thrown in the ship’s dungeon in shackles by the evil Lord Roman, or be rescued by the dashing dark lord of the seas, Alessandro Riviera.

  ‘Come on, Alessandro. She can’t live without you!’ I mumbled to myself.

  ‘Who’s Alessandro?’

  Jack’s voice made me jump, and I instinctively slammed the book closed and chucked it into the pot plant next to the door. My attempt at subterfuge was unsuccessful; it took Jack the longest time to tear his amused eyes from the pot plant, while I tried to give off an air of cool detachment, inspecting my nails and crossing my legs.

  ‘Oh, hey, Jack,’ I said, inwardly screaming at how ridiculous I allowed myself to be.

  ‘You all right?’

  I loved how his Londoner accent came out at times like this, making me unsure whether he was saying hello or legitimately asking if I was okay. I went with the latter.

  ‘Yeah, you all right?’

  Jack stood there, holding a plastic shopping bag at his side. He looked tired, breathing out a weary sigh as, to my surprise, he came up the steps and sat next to me.

  Here was Jack Baker, clad in a dark grey suit, loosening his tie while deep in contemplative thought. I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a little at the sight of him, even if he seemed a little out of sorts.

  ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve locked yourself out,’ I joked.

  He gave a small laugh. ‘Now wouldn’t that be something,’ he said, without lifting his eyes. My own smile fell slowly, a chill running over me that came not from the night air but from the cold feeling of Jack’s dark mood. I didn’t know him, not really, but there was something unnerving about his mood, and in the way he didn’t look at me. Maybe he was just tired from work, or maybe he’d had a fight with his girlfriend, but it just didn’t feel right; the longer the silence drew out, the more concerned I was.

  I titled my head to the side, trying to gain his attention. ‘You okay?’ I asked, seriously. I knew it was none of my business, and I should probably just leave him alone, but when I saw his shoulders rise and fall as he inhaled deeply, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Like approaching a wild animal, I had to move carefully, not wanting to spook him. I slowly crossed my ankles while my eyes took in the darkened shadows of his face before quickly turning my gaze to the street.

  Don’t stare, Kate. This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition.

  I had no idea if I was overstepping a mark or making a fool of myself, but it didn’t seem right to leave.

  ‘Bad day?’ I pressed, dreading how lame it sounded.

  Say something smart, Kate, something funny but insightful.

  ‘Something like that,’ he said, without so much as a sideward glance. Maybe he just wanted me to be quiet?

  ‘Well, at least you didn’t have to fake a sickie to get out of Richard and Judy’s book club,’ I joked. I got no response, not even a chuckle. Nothing was breaking through the wall he had put up. I didn’t know what else to say, I was out of lame jokes and the silence was just painful.

  I looked out across the street. We were lucky enough to have the Onslow Gardens at the front of our terraces, an urban green space plunked down in the middle of the city. There were little patches of such glory throughout London and this one was ours.

  Moments passed and for the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything that would lift the mood. I settled for chatting randomly to the point where he probably wished I would shut up, even if he didn’t say as much; he just sat in silence, staring at his hands, listening. Well, at least I think he was
listening.

  ‘I have a sister, Catriona, it’s just me and her. She’s seven years older than me, living in Canberra. Married, two kids. Maddy and Oliver.’ I rattled off the information, dying a little inside as I cemented my place in history as the most boring person alive. Before this evening, at least I had a bit of mystery about me, but now I was revealing myself as either batshit crazy or incredibly dull. Clearly my socialising skills were desperately lacking – perhaps I could do a class? But I couldn’t help it, Jack made me nervous and it just wasn’t his silence, it was him. His presence was intense, the way his broad frame filled the majority of the space on the steps. We were tucked in a little alcove out of the elements and I could feel the heat of his body next to mine, and when he shifted, the side of his leg would press against mine and I would lose my train of thought. The feeling was so intimate that I began to blabber nervously about my dad’s rainfall readings from last winter and then I really, truly wanted the ground to open up. God, how was he still here, how could he stand my blathering? I fell silent again before the next pearl of wisdom hit me.

  ‘My sister’s married. A nice, sensible banker named Paul, who is very strait-laced if not slightly emasculated by my sister. You see, she is very strong-willed, independent – she even hyphenated her maiden name with her married name, which turned out to be most unfortunate.’ I smiled to myself just thinking of it. I was ready to let the silence fall on my chatting, I was getting used to it now. Then I heard Jack’s voice.

  ‘Why was it unfortunate?’

  I turned to him, and for the first time that night he looked at me. His eyes stared into mine and I wanted to blush from it, feeling that he was looking right into me.

  ‘My sister married a Chinese–Australian whose last name is spelt Ai but pronounced “eye”,’ I said, waiting for his reaction.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t understand.

  ‘My sister is now Catriona Brown-Ai.’ I grinned because I couldn’t help it; thinking about it always made me laugh, even after all these years. It seemed Jack wasn’t immune either; as realisation dawned on him he smiled, big and beautiful. Finally, my interminable ramblings had the desired effect.