‘Nat. This one looks interesting,’ he said, taking a box from the shelf. ‘It has fruit pieces and something called clusters.’
‘Nathaniel…’
‘What are “clusters”?’
‘Not one of your five-a-day,’ she snapped, beginning to lose it. No. She’d lost it the minute he’d looked at her. He was looking at her now and her mouth dried. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve never bought fancy breakfast cereals in my life. I always have porridge.’
‘Always?’
‘It’s cheap, filling and good for you.’ And, even when you had a platinum credit card with your name on it, old habits died hard.
‘It also requires a saucepan and heat,’ he pointed out.
‘I was quite content with the crisps and the chocolate.’
‘You’ve eaten the chocolate,’ he reminded her, replacing the fancy cereal with its fruit and clusters on the shelf. ‘Porridge it is.’
‘No! I don’t want anything.’
But he’d tossed a smart tartan box into the trolley.
It bore about as much similarity to the jumbo pack of own-brand oats she bought from the supermarket as the Lucy B version of the cashmere dress she’d abandoned, and she was sure the packaging reflected the price.
‘And, just so there’s no misunderstanding,’ he continued, scanning the shelves as they moved on, ‘the only thing I was asking Frank to keep an eye open for was anyone else showing signs of the bug that laid Pam low.’
‘But—’
‘The last thing I need at this time of year is an epidemic. Staff passing it on to the children visiting the grotto.’
She looked up at him, searched his face. He submitted patiently to her scrutiny, as if he understood what she was doing. He looked genuine but so had everyone else she’d met in the last few months. All those nice people who had been lying to her.
She could no longer trust her own judgement.
‘Can I believe you?’
‘It doesn’t really matter what I say, does it? If I’ve called Henshawe to tell him where you are there is no escape. If I haven’t, then you’re safe. Only time can set your mind at rest.’
‘So,’ she asked, a wry smile pulling at her lip, ‘is that a yes or a no?’
His only response was to reach for a bottle of maple syrup and add it to the trolley.
‘Suppose I insisted on leaving?’ she persisted. ‘Right this minute.’
‘I’d find you some warm clothes and then drive you wherever you wanted to go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, interesting though that outfit is, I imagine you’d rather leave wearing something that doesn’t look as if you’ve escaped from a pantomime.’
Lucy discovered that she couldn’t speak.
‘Because you’re under my roof, Lucy. Staff, temp, customer, you’re my responsibility.’
She shook her head in disbelief.
‘You’re afraid I’d trick you? That I’d take you to him?’
He didn’t appear to take offence which, considering the way she’d been casting doubt on his character, was suspicious in itself and Lucy shook her head again. Her entire world had been turned upside down for the second time in months, but this time not for the good.
‘I can’t trust anyone. I thought I knew Rupert. I thought he cared for me. I don’t and he doesn’t. The only thing he appears to care about is his profit and loss statement.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t know Henshawe, other than by reputation,’ he continued when she didn’t say anything. ‘What I’ve read in the financial pages. Frankly, he’s not a man I’d want to do business with, but love can change a man.’
‘Well, that’s just rubbish and you know it,’ she declared. ‘The only time you can change a man is when he’s in nappies.’
She saw him pull his lips back tight against his teeth, doing his best not to smile. His eyes let him down.
‘It’s not funny!’ But she found herself struggling with a giggle. ‘Rupert Henshawe is not, and never was, in love with me. What we had was not a romance, I discovered today, but a marketing campaign. That’s why I gave him back his ring.’
‘A masterpiece in understatement, if I might say so. You have a good throwing arm, by the way. Have you ever played cricket?’
‘They showed that on the news?’ She groaned, mortified at the spectacle she’d made of herself. Then she sighed. ‘What does it matter? It’ll be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow morning. The only story about our relationship that wasn’t carefully stage-managed by his PR team.’
‘You and the PR team got lucky. Tomorrow’s headlines will all be about the weather.’
‘It’s still snowing?’
‘Deep and crisp and even,’ he said. ‘Traffic chaos from one end of the country to the other. It’s no night for an elf to be out.’ He paused. ‘Especially not in something that doesn’t cover her—’
‘I’ve got the picture.’ She tugged on the back of the tunic. ‘Thank you.’
When she still didn’t move he took her hand and pressed his phone, warm from his pocket, into it.
‘If you can’t trust me, take this, call Enquiries and ask for a cab firm, although I warn you you’ll have a long wait in this weather.’
Calling her bluff. He knew she had nowhere to go. She opened it, anyway. Keyed in the number for Enquiries but, before it was answered, she broke the connection.
‘We both know that if I had anywhere to go, anyone to call, I wouldn’t be standing here in this ridiculous outfit,’ she said. ‘I’d be long gone.’
Nat watched her accept the bitter truth and felt his heart breaking for her. No one should be so alone. So friendless.
‘I’m sorry. It’s tough when you love someone and they let you down.’
‘Love is a word, not an emotion, Nathaniel. We’re sold on it from the time we’re old enough to listen to fairy tales. Songs, movies, books…It’s a marketing man’s dream. I was in love with the idea of being in love, that’s all. Swept up in the Cinderella story as much as anyone buying the latest issue of Celebrity. It’s not my heart that’s in a mess. It’s my life.’ About to hand the phone back to him, she said, ‘Actually, would you mind if I sent a message?’
‘You’ve thought of someone?’
Why didn’t that make him feel happier?
‘Half a million someones,’ she replied. ‘My Twitter and Facebook followers. Some of them must be genuine.’
‘It seems a fair bet,’ he admitted. ‘What will you say?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to ask them to descend en masse on Hastings & Hart and rescue me.’
‘Pity. It would make this the best Christmas H&H have ever had,’ he said, then wished he hadn’t.
‘Sorry. While I’d like to oblige you by delivering a store full of customers at opening time, right now I’m doing my best to stay beneath the radar while I figure out what to do.’
‘It’s your call. What will you say?’
‘Trust no one…springs to mind. Or does