Miss South

by Kay Williams

  “How long has that been going on for?” I asked in quiet private tones.

  “Six months,” he confessed. “Jessica doesn’t really like people.”

  “What does she like?”

  “Math and music.”

  “Tough crowd.”

  “Simon’s not one to shy from a challenge.”

  We came to a large display of a life-size painting of a cars undercarriage, the painting was simplistic and the artist had covered that fact by sticking real metal parts to the canvas in the correct places. I quite liked the contrasts in textures but I could have seen it up on my wall at home.

  “I appear to have been dumped again,” I said cheerfully.

  “I had noticed.” Heronsgate looked down at the guidebook in his hands then up at me.

  “It was kind of you to say 'hello' but you don't have to babysit me. Whatever business you had here this evening deserves your attention.”

  “I have no business and I am not babysitting you,” Heronsgate corrected me. “Simon's manners might be poor but I am grateful for them.”

  “Really?”

  Heronsgate gently directed me to another small display as people began to crowd the undercarriage painting, I realised that he was trying to keep our conversation private so didn't protest and instead waited for an explanation.

  “Simon told me that you were a very down to earth and practical woman, despite your hobby and your imagination. He told me not to do my usual cake and coffee routine, that you would see through it and that he could vouch for the fact you had no intention of using my name or that blurry photo to promote your book. I watched your statements and was reassured but made him set it up anyway, assuming he would tell you all the details. Instead he left you in the dark and we hadn't been talking long before I realised that you were as honest and genuine as he told me you were, and it ended up being awkward for both of us. I was an idiot and I deserved that awful picture to remind me of the fact.”

  “I promise to keep that small bit of your dignity safe, Mr Heronsgate,” I said, somehow managing to sound serious and compassionate when I just wanted to laugh at him. “I don’t imagine you give it away often.”

  “Not often. No,” he agreed. “When I wasn't trying to direct the conversation you weren't guarded and I found you amusing. Especially when you threatened to kiss me.”

  “I thought it might break your composure,” I smiled, grateful that the memory didn't cause me to blush. “Besides, the photo wasn't that bad.”

  “It's not as bad as the one you are running the competition on at the moment.”

  “I didn't look,” I said, causing Heronsgate the chuckle. “How much time do you spend watching my profile page?”

  Choosing another sculpture he once again kept our conversation private and I began to flatter myself that he might actually be keeping me to himself because he enjoyed my company.

  “Enough to know that you aren't writing any of it.”

  “Like you manage your online presence,” I shot back.

  “You are tremendous fun to talk to, Miss South,” Heronsgate laughed, the sound was unrestrained and drew us curious looks from the people closest, not that he seemed to care that people were staring at him.

  “Thank you?”

  “Henry.”

  I nearly dropped my champagne when he gave me permission to use his name.

  Since the Pause the magical community had insisted that first names should be reserved only for close relationships. What was he thinking by doing it? That next week I would still be at these same kinds of events and we would still be spending time together?

  “I meant that it’s nice to talk to someone casually. I can count the number of times on one hand that someone has asked me how I am feeling after my flights and schedule. It is fun to talk to someone who says what’s on their mind and isn’t afraid to poke fun at the people close to them.”

  “I suppose people are naturally intimidated by your reputation whether you mean for them to be or not.”

  “Usually I am okay with that, making new friends can be a complicated thing for me, I like my reputation keeping the worst of the hangers on at bay.”

  “Well I hope that by giving me permission to use your name that you don't think I am one of those.”

  “I wouldn't if I could use yours.”

  “Hmm, no. I don't think so.”

  “Why?” Heronsgate looked genuinely shocked.

  “Because I'm Harriet and you are Henry and there is a whole lot of unfortunate chicken-scratch going on there.”

  “Chicken-scratch?”

  “Tally marks?” I tried again and seeing he was confused I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

  Heronsgate rightly hesitated but surprised me by unlocking the devise and giving it to me. Finding a notes app was easy, and the stylus was useful in writing it down for him.

  “So, a capital H without the cross is just two straight lines. Two capital H side by side is four straight lines. Strike through the middle of them is a five, a tally, a chicken-scratch.”

  “Henry and Harriet,” he laughed. “You have such a unique way of seeing things.”

  It was stupid.

  It was pointless.

  It couldn't lead to anything.

  I shouldn't have abused the trust he had placed in me by lending me his phone, but I did, while he was distracted with a noise on the other side of the gallery I wrote my number under the marks, saved the note to his home screen and locked the phone.

  He smiled as I handed the phone back.

  He had a nice smile, his eyes were such an unusual shade of green, and he was athletic, charming, intelligent and capable. He was the polar opposite of every other guy I had ever dated or even dared be attracted to.

  But here we were just standing, staring at each other, with what felt like silly little identical smiles, sharing a moment that should never be happening.

  The scream of metal shattered the moment and we both jumped and tore our gaze from each other.

  “GO! GO! GO!”

  I stood frozen to the spot as Simon and Fallow streaked passed where we were standing. Simon was struggling under the weight of a piece of metal I was damn sure he hadn't paid for if their flight was anything to go by. The lump of scrap metal had been wrenched from the centre of a large exhibit and in the stunned silence that followed them the metal that was left listed to the right, groaned as its weight shifted and then toppled causing the people closest to let out startled screams and scramble out of the way.

  I was frozen as I tried to reason out what I had just seen.

  I had only accepted the invitation to be here because Simon had assured me that this evening would not draw attention to me on any level whatsoever, meaning I could go back to work and keep meeting my rent payments.

  What was he thinking dumping me on arrival for Fallow, threatening to thieve something and then actually doing it?

  Then again if it wouldn’t have made any difference if I had been here or not, he would have done it and I would have woken up to it, at least this way I could brace for impact.

  An extremely well dressed man stalked out of the crowd aiming straight for where I was standing with Heronsgate, the man was flushed in anger and was at least a head taller than I was and had his fists balled threateningly, I felt myself stiffen in expectation but it wasn’t me his ire was reserved for. He turned the full force of his fury on Heronsgate, who surprised me by appearing completely unmoved by the sight of one of his staff stealing artwork.

  “Was that your chief race designer?” The man forced out the words between clenched teeth.

  Heronsgate nodded, and excused himself to follow the man as he stalked back through the crowd of confused and shocked people to have whatever discussion needed to be made in private.

  Several staff were quickly sent to gather up the guest list, and were even instructed to lock the main doors into the gallery to keep out the press. As guests we were gathered up quickly and usher
ed out of a side door, led through a maze of corridors that eventually came out into the hotel's underground car park where our coats where waiting for us.

  It seemed a little extreme to me, but many of the guests were on their phones even before they got to their cars, explaining all the details to whoever they felt they needed to and distancing themselves from the event before the finger-pointing could begin.

  I hadn’t driven and once I was back up to street level and hurrying away from the hotel with my head down I dug out my phone to the same thing.

  “It’s a bit late for a social call, Harriet,” Jonathan commented.

  I wasn’t surprised that he picked up Rosemary’s phone, Blood Dependents didn’t need as much sleep as living people and he and Rosemary shared everything in their unusual relationship.

  I started my long narrative and by the time I was done I was at my bus stop, breathless from walking and talking at the same time, and feeling as angry as the hotel employee had looked now the shock of the moment had passed.

  “This could end up being every bad,” Jonathan sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologised out of reflex.

  “It’s hardly your fault, Harriet,” Jonathan chided me gently. “We will prepare a statement just in case but if the hotel was more focused on Heronsgate Industries I think we can safely conclude that the press will do the same. The guest list may not even have had your name on it if you were admitted as a plus one on a digital ticket.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Get a good night’s sleep and try not to worry,” Jonathan sounded more cheerful than I thought he would be considering the news. “I would suggest that cutting ties with Simon and coming to us and Anthony the next time you are in any kind of legal trouble might be a wise idea.”

  “Sounds good to me. Put it in the statement,” I agreed.

  I could forgive Wildling high spirits only so far, I had trusted Simon and he had not only left me high and dry tonight but possibly in a great deal of trouble tomorrow. The few times I had spoken to my work agency they had been good about the book that had been blown out of all proportion by the media and I was thankful to be keeping my new job.

  I didn’t know whether they would be so kind about my name linked to the theft of fine art.

  I collapsed onto the cold plastic seat of the bus stop, grateful that at this time of night no one else was waiting there.

  My phone bleeped in my pocket and I frowned at the notification telling me my sales counter had been reset. It took a moment for me to realise that it was gone midnight and it was now Monday. I should have my first royalty payment today and the program that Lucy had devised for me had reset for a new week. I checked my banking app, the royalties had cleared and I currently had more money in my account than I had ever had in my whole life.

  I knew it was going to be wise to save it, I had been slowly struggling to save for a mortgage deposit for the last five years and this would be a serious boost to those funds, and I had the self-assessment to consider, but it was beyond temptation to want to go out and spend the whole lot on things I didn’t really need.

  Shoving the phone back into the pocket of my jacket I frowned as a low, sleek sports car going in the other direction made a three-point turn and came back to park in the bus lane.

  The passenger door opened and Heronsgate leaned out of it.

  “Harriet? Get in.”

  I took in his tight and angry expression and instinctively looked up for my bus. Hoping that he would have to move his expensive car to make way for it, but I wasn't so lucky, Heronsgate's expression had only grown darker and I decided not to make it worse and hurried to get in the car.

  He pulled back into the sparse traffic as I tugged on my seat belt and I was aware of how instantly warm my legs and back were.

  “I suddenly understand heated seats.”

  Heronsgate's swift look to me and then back to the road made me blush, I hadn't meant to say that out loud, he must have seen my reaction though because he smiled. As the smile was better than the frown I suffered the embarrassment and called it a win.

  “Do you drive?” He asked.

  “Only if I am heading out of London.”

  With easy gestures Heronsgate manipulated the screen on the dash, not even needing to touch the screen to get it to do what he needed it to, and never once diverting his attention from the road.

  “Pop in your details. I'll take you home.”

  “The train station is fine.”

  “Home, Harriet.” Heronsgate's frown returned full force, but at least he aimed it at the road.

  “Thank you.”

  I tapped in my information and the route loaded a few seconds later. It was going to be a long thirty minute journey if Heronsgate wasn't going to relax his frown, unfortunately I didn't know him well enough to know the best way of going about easing it. I placed my cold hands under my thighs against the heated leather.

  Heronsgate obeyed the instructions of the sat-nav without a word and I watched out of the window, we stopped at a red light and I jumped when Heronsgate's knuckles grazed down the back of my hand. I found myself uncurling my hand and allowing his fingers to tangle with mine.

  His fingers squeezed mine gently and we didn't let go, not even when Heronsgate needed to change gears.

  # # #

  Henry Heronsgate

  Fallow was stood to almost military attention in front of my desk, her face carefully neutral. There was nothing in her body language that suggested she was sorry for the chaos she had caused the night before but I was going to hurt her where she would feel it.

  Cornwall on the other hand looked as if the Earth opened up and swallowed him there and then it wouldn’t be punishment enough for what he had done, but as a Wildling there was also a defiance in the depths of his eyes that I was going to gouge out, and not for my sake, but for South’s also.

  “Any explanation at all?” I asked, keeping my voice rational, I had no doubt that my temper was going to slip its leash but I was going to hang on to it until the last minute.

  “I wanted it,” Fallow said simply.

  “You wanted it,” I repeated my calm tone making Cornwall wince. “Just like that? You want it so you should have it?”

  “It is complicated.”

  “No. What you stole was not complicated. It was an exhaust component from a substandard machine sold ten years ago you could easily have found at a scrap yard on Earth,” I corrected. “What gives you the right to take something that doesn’t belong to you?”

  Fallow seemed to think for a minute, she did this a lot, almost zone out as she weighed a conversation mathematically before continuing.

  “Simon owed me a favour.”

  “Don’t use his enthusiasm to get on the right side of your bed as an excuse,” I snapped. Cornwall paled and Fallow cocked her head, not stupid enough to miss my implication but it was something she clearly hadn’t factored into their relationship. “You could have told me and we would have negotiated for it, you could have bought the sculpture with your own substantial income and taken the part legally. Instead you saw it, you wanted it and you took it. And you have yet to give me a why.”

  “Henry, it was my fault,” Cornwall spoke quietly.

  “You are both equal partners in this,” I replied. “The gallery wants to press charges for theft and it would be a damn sight cheaper and easier for me to hand you over to rot inside some concrete cell for the next ten years than to keep you out of it.”

  Fallow froze, panic and fear now plainly written on her face, Fallow and her extraordinary talent for maths and music had been over looked due to her young age and tendency to ‘zone out’ of conversations that didn’t actively involve her having to count anything, or if she was asked a question that didn’t have a definite mathematical response.

  She had never divulged to me what had become of her birth parents but I knew that she had been left to die in a basement by her foster ones. She had somehow managed to
survive for seven years before her rescue, her inner beast was that of a tigress and it had become the dominate personality as she had fought to live. Given her past I had no doubt that she wouldn’t last ten years behind bars.

  “I did not mean any harm.”

  “Be quiet, Miss Fallow,” I ordered and her eyes dropped masking the pain in them when I didn’t use her name. “Clearly I’ve made a grave error in judgement on your part over the years, I thought you were self-controlled and sensible, when you are actually obsessive and spoilt. Your free pass ends here, Miss Fallow. The price of the sculpture, compensation to parties involved with your stunt and damage to property in the gallery will come out of your pay cheque I am not footing the bill for your lack of self-restraint.”

  “Henry,” Cornwall protested

  Fallow decided it would be better not to and simply nodded and the sight of tears on her lashes almost broke me. She had already suffered so much, her beast demanded so much of her, pushed at her constantly in ways I couldn’t imagine but I couldn’t let this go unpunished.

  “I understand.” It was barely above a whisper.

  “Miss Fallow, may I recommend you take some time off?” I spoke with a gentler tone, unable to let this long-term friend leave without giving her some compassion. “Think about what happened last night, work out why you did what you did, what you thought you could gain, why it was so important and then ask yourself if it was worth it. Not everything is about work and winning races. I’ll be here to talk if you need me.”

  Recognizing a dismissal when she heard one Fallow nodded again and left my office, taking a deep mental breath I turned on Cornwall knowing I would have more of a battle with him but knowing I also had the perfect weapon to use against him.

  “So, how do you justify theft?” I asked.