all right? We’ve got a television on here, and when I saw you make a run for it I wondered—’
‘If breakfast was a mistake? Believe me, it was. Is everyone demanding their money back?’ She was still shaking. ‘I wouldn’t blame them. I couldn’t even manage a decent scream. My throat was apparently stuffed with hot rocks.’
‘Don’t worry about it. You looked terrific. And the jokey stuff was very convincing. I shouldn’t think anyone guessed how scared you really were. I can’t imagine how you’ll top it next year—unless you can think of something that involves Mr Dour getting his shirt off,’ she added hopefully. ‘I’d sponsor him for that myself.’
Ramona’s mouth dried at the thought. Fortunately there was a sharp rap at the door and she was saved from having to comment.
‘It’s open,’ she called, and turned to see the man himself, with a frown that might have been concern creasing his forehead. She didn’t want his concern. ‘Come to pay up?’ she asked, with a lack of graciousness she regretted the minute he laid a cheque on the table, along with her lipstick and mirror. ‘That’s very generous,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
He gave a small shrug, as if it was nothing. ‘Don’t let me interrupt your call.’
‘Oh, it’s just Molly. She saw the jump…’ The least said about that the better. ‘She’s trying to think of some way of topping it. She seems to think you, minus your shirt, would be a good start,’ she said, and was assailed by wails of anguish from her assistant. ‘Why don’t you talk it over with her?’ she suggested, handing over her phone. ‘And she’ll need your address so that she can book you a car for tonight. Six o’clock. Black tie.’
‘Six?’ he repeated. ‘Isn’t that a little early for the theatre?’
‘I’m working, not having fun. I do all the organising beforehand. I make sure everything goes smoothly throughout the evening, and then I make sure everyone is happy afterwards.’
‘While I watch?’
‘No one is insisting you come, Niall. You’re the one demanding to see what I do every minute of my working day.’ Which today would end somewhere past midnight.
She turned away, avoiding a game of ‘chicken’ to see who could outstare the other. She knew she’d lose. She didn’t bother to change back into her suit, but folded it neatly and put it into her bag, then glanced in the mirror as she slid her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it.
Her reflection warned her that she was looking less than her best. The colour had leached from her skin, leaving two vivid patches of blusher and making her look like a rag doll. She took a tissue and scrubbed at her cheek-bones. In the meantime, having considered her response and apparently got the message, Niall relayed his address to Molly.
Romana retrieved her phone and her bags and flung open the caravan door.
‘Where are you going now?’ he asked, following her.
‘Why don’t you come along and see?’ He gave her a look that suggested he was quick learner—he was asking first. ‘First I’m going home to hang up my dress. I would have done it earlier, but I had to meet you instead. Then I’m going back to the store to have my hair done,’ she told him, walking quickly to the road.
‘No lunch?’
She felt ill at the thought. ‘No,’ she said, glancing at the workmanlike watch on her wrist. ‘No time. We have to go.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the hairdo.’
‘Good decision. I can fix most things,’ she said, and smiled, ‘but an appointment with George on a gala night is not one of them. I’ll see you at the theatre.’
‘Don’t you think it would be more sensible for us to share a car?’
Share? Working with him was going to be difficult enough; she had no intention of extending the time they spent together. ‘Is your concern ecological or financial?’
‘Neither. I simply thought you could brief me about this evening on the way to the theatre. Speaking of which, you put on quite a performance yourself just now,’ he said, keeping step with her and giving her no chance to argue. ‘You nearly had me fooled.’
She had no way of telling whether he meant her performance pretending to be scared, or her performance covering up the fact that she was totally terrified. ‘Only nearly?’
‘How many jumps have you made?’
She smiled as she stopped and turned to hail a passing taxi. There was something very pleasing in the discovery that he wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was.
‘I’ll see you at the theatre, Niall,’ she said as she climbed aboard, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Romana, swathed in a dark-red salon wrapper, regarded herself in the mirror, searching vainly for some clue as to what about her appearance had so irritated Niall Macaulay.
It couldn’t just have been the incident with the coffee that had made him so surly. It had, after all, been an accident. Unfortunate, perhaps, especially in view of the subsequent meeting, but in the travails of life it was nothing. Less than nothing.
A kind man would have said so. A generous man would at the very least have allowed her to apologise before walking away.
But he wasn’t kind, or generous. Oh, he’d been quick to cover himself with his offer of sponsorship—quick to pay up, too. Her flash of guilt was immediately squashed. When you had money to spare, that kind of generosity was easy. Her father had always been swift to put his signature on a cheque for birthdays or at Christmas, when all she’d really wanted was for him to hug her, tell her that he loved her. He’d never seemed capable of managing anything quite that difficult.
George appeared in the mirror behind her. ‘Big day, Romana,’ he said.
‘A bad day.’ First bungee-jumping. Then a haircut. How much worse could one day get?
‘No sacrifice is too great to promote the store.’
‘This is as far as I’m prepared to go,’ she assured him. The haircut was all part of the week of publicity for the store and had been planned for months. Faced with proving her total commitment, she knew nothing would make a more public statement than cutting her trademark hair to publicise the salon.
The stylist hesitated, apparently not eager to be the cause of bitter tears of regret. ‘You’re really sure about this? I should warn you that while your girlfriends will love it—’
‘Great. They’re the ones to impress. Let’s do it.’ Still he hesitated. ‘Come on, George, I haven’t got all day.’
‘You do realise that the men in your life will hate it?’
‘Who has the time for men?’
‘Friends, acquaintances, your father?’
‘I stopped being Daddy’s little girl when I was four.’ When her mother had found someone younger, better-looking, even titled…
‘Any
