course, but—’
‘What time?’
‘Eight o’clock?’
‘Eight o’clock it is, then. Let me have your mobile number so I can ring you if I’m going to be delayed.’
Her brow puckering, Natalie was thoughtful. ‘Okay, I’ll give it to you. But don’t forget it might be me who’s delayed or can’t make it if my dad isn’t well … in which case you’d better let me have your number.’
With another one of his enigmatic smiles, Ludo acquiesced unhesitatingly.
She’d never got used to a doorman letting her into the rather grand Victorian building where her father’s luxurious flat was situated. It made her feel like an audacious usurper pretending to be someone important.
The contrast between how her parents lived was like night and day. Her mother was a conscientious and devoted home-maker who enjoyed the simple and natural things in life, while her father was a real hedonist who loved material things perhaps a little too much. Although undoubtedly hard-working, he had a tendency to be quite reckless with his money.
Now, as she found herself travelling up to the topmost floor in the lift, Natalie refused to dwell on that. Instead she found herself growing more and more uneasy at what he might be going to tell her.
When Bill Carr opened the door to greet her, straight away his appearance seemed to confirm her worst suspicions. She was shocked at how much he’d aged since she’d last seen him. It had only been three months, but the change in him was so marked it might as well have been three years. He was a tall, handsome, distinguished-looking man, with a penchant for traditionally tailored Savile Row suits, and his still abundant silver-grey hair was always impeccably cut and styled … but not today. Today it was messy and in dire need of attention. His white shirt was crumpled and unironed and his pinstriped trousers looked as if he’d slept in them.
With alarm Natalie noticed that he carried a crystal tumbler that appeared to have a generous amount of whisky in it. The reek of alcohol when he opened his mouth to greet her confirmed it.
‘Natalie! Thank God you’re here, sweetheart. I was going out of my mind, thinking that you weren’t going to come.’
He flung an arm round her and pulled her head down onto his chest. Natalie dropped her bag to the ground and did her utmost to relax. Instinct told her that whatever had made her father seek solace in strong drink must be more serious than she’d thought.
Lifting her head she endeavoured to make her smile reassuring. ‘I’d never have let you down, Dad.’ Reaching up, she planted an affectionate kiss on his unshaven cheek as the faintest whiff of his favourite aftershave mingled with the incongruous and far less appealing smell of whisky.
‘Did you have a good journey?’ he asked, reaching over her shoulder to push the door shut behind her.
‘I did, thanks. It was really nice to travel first class, but you shouldn’t have gone to such unnecessary expense, Dad.’
Even as she spoke Natalie couldn’t help but recall her meeting with Ludo, and the fact that he’d stumped up the money for her ticket when he’d heard her explain to the guard that she’d lost hers. His name was short for Ludovic, he’d told her. For a few seconds she lost herself in a helpless delicious reverie. The name was perfect. She really liked it … she liked it a lot. There was an air of mystery about the sound of it … a bit like its owner. They hadn’t exchanged surnames but every second of their time together on the train was indelibly imprinted on her mind, never to be forgotten. Particularly his cultured, sexy voice and those extraordinarily beautiful sapphire-blue eyes of his. Her heart jumped when she nervously recalled her agreement to meet him for dinner tomorrow …
‘I’ve always wanted to give you the best of everything, sweetheart … and that didn’t change when your mother and I split up. Is she well, by the way?’
Her father’s curiously intense expression catapulted her back to the present, and Natalie saw the pain that he still carried over the break-up with his wife. Her mouth dried uncomfortably as she privately empathised with the loss that clearly still haunted him.
‘Yes, she’s very well. She asked me to tell you that she hopes you’re doing well too.’
He grimaced and shrugged. ‘She’s a good woman, your mother. The best woman I ever knew. It’s a crying shame I didn’t appreciate her more when we were together. As to your comment that she hopes I’m doing well … It near kills me to have to admit this, darling, but I’m afraid I’m not doing very well at all. Come into the kitchen and let me get you a cup of tea, then I’ll explain what’s been going on.’
The admission confirmed her increasingly anxious suspicions, but it still tore at Natalie’s insides to hear him say it. Feeling suddenly drained, she followed his tall, rangy frame into his modern stainless-steel kitchen, watched him accidentally splash water over his crumpled sleeve as he filled the kettle at the tap—was she imagining it, or was his hand shaking a little?—and plugged it into the wall socket. He collected his whisky glass before dropping wearily down onto a nearby stool.
‘What is it, Dad? Have you been having pains in your chest again? Is that why you wanted to see me so urgently? Please tell me.’
Her father imbibed a generous slug of whisky, then slammed his glass noisily back down on the counter, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. Communication was suspended for several disturbing moments as he looked to be struggling to gather his thoughts. ‘For once it’s not my health that’s at stake, here, Nat. It’s my livelihood.’ His mouth shaped a rueful grimace.
Outside, from the busy street below, came the jarring sound of a car horn honking. Natalie flinched in shock. Drawing in a steadying breath, she saw that her dad was perfectly serious in his confession.
‘Has something gone wrong with the business? Is it to do with a downturn in profits? I know the country’s going through a tough time economically at the moment, but you can weather the storm, Dad … you always do.’
Bill Carr looked grim. ‘The hotel chain hasn’t made any profit for nearly two years, my love … largely because I haven’t kept up with essential refurbishment and modernisation. And I can no longer afford to keep on staff of the calibre that helped make it such a success in the first place. It’s so like you to blame it on the economy, but that just isn’t the case.’
‘Then if it’s not that why can’t you afford to modernise or keep good staff? You’ve always told me that the business has made you a fortune.’
‘That’s perfectly true. It did make a fortune. But sadly I haven’t been able to hold on to it. I’ve lost almost everything, Natalie … and I’m afraid I’m being forced to sell the business at a loss to try and recoup some money and pay off the vast amount of debt I’ve accrued.’
Natalie’s insides lurched as though she’d just narrowly escaped plunging down a disused elevator shaft. ‘It’s really that bad?’ she murmured, hardly knowing what to say.
Her father pushed to his feet, despondently shaking his head. ‘I’ve made such a mess of my life,’ he told her, ‘and I suppose because I’ve been so reckless and irresponsible the chickens have come home to roost, as they say. I deserve it. I was blessed with everything a man could wish for—a beautiful wife, a lovely daughter and work that I loved … But
