she said. She smiled at him, trying to look confident. ‘I am fairly efficient, you know. I could have supplied references.’
‘Well, I didn’t really have time for that. Besides, Andy at the wine bar reckoned you were all right, and he’s a shrewd judge.’ He paused. ‘My friends all know I’m going to be away, so you shouldn’t have to fend off many phone calls. But if anyone should ring, just say Mr Benedict is away for an indefinite period.’ He paused. ‘And if they ask, save yourself a lot of hassle and tell them you’re the cleaner.’
Why not the truth? Tallie wondered, but decided it was not worth pursuing as the problem was unlikely to arise.
‘There’s stuff in the fridge to finish up,’ he added over his shoulder as he headed into the hall where his designer luggage was stacked. ‘Clean bedding in both the rooms, and the laundry calls each Wednesday. Also, move whatever you need to out of the closets and drawers to make room for your things. Any emergencies, talk to the lawyers. They’ll sort everything out.’
And he departed in a waft of the rather heavy aftershave he affected, leaving Tallie staring after him in vague unease. What emergencies did he have in mind? she asked herself wryly. Fire, flood, bubonic plague?
Although he was probably just trying to cover all eventualities, assure her there was back-up in place if necessary, she thought as she began to look round in earnest. Starting with the kitchen.
The ‘stuff in the fridge’ he’d mentioned was already finished and then some, she thought, eyeing it with disfavour. There were a few wizened tomatoes, some eggs well past their sell-by date, a hard piece of cheese busily developing its own penicillin and a salad drawer that made her stomach squirm.
Cleaning out the refrigerator and then restocking it at the nearest supermarket would be her first priority.
And her next, lying down on one of those enormous sofas and relaxing completely. Listening to the peace of this lovely place and letting herself soak up its ambience.
It was, she thought with faint bewilderment, the last kind of environment she’d have expected Kit Benedict to inhabit. Where he was concerned, the contents of the fridge seemed to make far more sense than the elegant furniture and Persian rugs.
It was a background that would have suited Gareth perfectly, she mused, her face suddenly wistful, imagining him lounging on the opposite sofa, glass of wine in hand, his hair gleaming against the dark cushions. Smiling at her…
Stop torturing yourself, she ordered silently. There’s no future in that kind of thinking and you know it.
She managed to distance any other might-have-beens by keeping determinedly busy for the rest of the day. Settling herself in so that the real work could start in the morning. And the blues remained at bay during the evening, thanks to the plasma screen television that only appeared when a button was pressed in a section of panelling, but seemed to have every channel known to the mind of man available at a flourish of the remote control.
How entirely different from the TV set at the other flat, which seemed permanently stuck on BBC One, she thought. Although not everything had changed for the better, of course. The news still seemed uniformly depressing, with no sign of peace in the Middle East, another rise in the price of petrol, which would cost her father dear with all the miles he had to travel to visit sick animals, and a breaking story about an attempted military coup in some remote African state.
Sighing, Tallie restored the screen to its hiding place and went to bed.
And what a bed, she thought, stretching luxuriously. Quite the biggest she’d ever occupied, with the most heavenly mattress and pure linen sheets and pillowcases. And great piles of towels in the bathroom too, and a snowy bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.
She was almost asleep when the phone rang. She rolled across the bed, reaching blearily for the receiver. The caller started speaking at once, a woman’s voice, low-pitched and husky, saying a man’s name, then, in a swift rush of words, ‘Darling, you’re there—what a relief. I’ve been so worried. Are you all right?’
Tallie swallowed, remembering Kit’s suggested formula. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said politely. ‘Mr Benedict is away for an indefinite period.’
She heard a sharp intake of breath at the other end and the voice changed—became clipped, imperious. ‘And who precisely are you, may I ask?’
There was no point in saying she was the cleaner—not at this ridiculous time of night, thought Tallie. Besides, that rather hectoring tone—the phrasing of the question—sounded just like Josie, and it riled her.
‘Just a friend,’ she said brightly and rang off.
She was half-expecting the caller to ring back, but the phone remained silent.
And just as she was drifting off again, it occurred to her that the name the unknown woman had said at the start of the conversation had not sounded like Kit at all, but something completely different.
I must be wrong, she told herself drowsily. After all, I was half asleep. Anyway, it’s too late to worry about that now—much too late.
And, turning over with a sigh, she closed her eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
TALLIE closed down her laptop and leaned back in the padded black leather chair with a sigh that contained more relief than satisfaction.
At last, she thought. At last I seem to be back on track.
She could acknowledge now how scared she’d been, gambling on her future in this way, especially as she’d made comparatively little progress with her story since that momentous lunch with Mrs Morgan.
But then conditions over the past months had hardly been conducive, she reminded herself ruefully. Her free time had been severely limited and when she had tried to work at the flat she’d had to compete with the constant noise of Josie’s television and Amanda’s stereo system blasting through the thin panels of her door.
And then, of course, there’d been Gareth’s intervention…
She took a deep breath, damming back the instinctive pang. Well, at least she now had an insight into what it was like to fall in love, even a little. Could see why a girl like Mariana might give up so much to pursue this reckless adventure if it meant she’d be reunited with a man she wanted so desperately.
Up to then, she realised, she hadn’t given much thought to her story’s emotional input, concentrating instead on the fun of it all— her heroine’s rollicking escape from her stern guardian and the threat of an arranged marriage.
Now, she realised that Mariana’s decision would have far more impact if she was, instead, deserting a loving home with parents who were simply over-protective, who knew the uncertainties of a soldier’s life and wished to spare her danger and heartache.
And this would naturally change the entire emphasis of the book.
Less of a light-hearted romp, she told herself, however enjoyable that had been to invent, and more of a story about passionate love and its eventual reward, which, in itself, was going to present her with all kinds of problems.
Because the events of the last few weeks had brought home to her how
