‘Much more fun like this, darling.’
Emily felt a stab of concern at Mark’s mention of bugs. But Lucas Tennent was big enough and old enough to look after himself. And he could call on professional medical help if he became really ill; a thought which allowed her to relax in the stimulating company of people she liked very much. Mark rented the floor below hers in Nat’s house, and along with Bryony had been a good friend when Emily, in urgent need of somewhere in London to live, had taken Nat up on his offer of a room. With two homes to keep up, her landlord insisted he could do with all the extra money he could get. Emily had scoffed at his idea of rent, which was ridiculously low for London. But Nat was a close friend of her brother, Andrew, and remained adamant. In the end she had pocketed the pride she couldn’t afford, grateful for his help and generosity.
After a place to live, a new job had been the next priority on the agenda. When Emily moved into the room in Nat’s house he had been trying for some time to find a suitable replacement for his cleaner, who wanted to retire. Because the elegant house was very old, and correspondingly fragile, he needed someone who would treat it with the care and respect it deserved. But when Emily proposed herself as substitute, at the same rate of pay, Nat thought she was joking at first. At last, when he realised she was in deadly earnest, he agreed with enthusiasm, and the moment Mark heard about it he begged Emily to take on his rooms as well. When it became obvious that Emily actually enjoyed cleaning, Nat asked permission to recommend her to one of his married female colleagues who’d just acquired a new flat in Bermondsey. The added job proved such a happy arrangement that Liz Donaldson soon suggested Emily kill two birds with one stone and also take on a friend’s loft apartment in the converted warehouse across the street. And so what had been intended as a stop-gap before finding another secretarial job suddenly snowballed into a whole new career.
Emily’s parents disapproved strongly, and friends thought she was raving mad. But in secret she was working to plan. The new job left her mind and imagination free to function separately from her busy, careful hands, and at the same time paid enough to provide financial backing while she tried her hand at writing a novel. Taken on the hop, she’d had to fib to Lucas Tennent, because not even her nearest and dearest had any idea what she was really up to in her spare time.
The plot of her novel was already mapped out, with some of the main characters automatically cast: villain and wicked witch no problem at all. But she’d had difficulty in conjuring up a charismatic central male. Nat was outrageously handsome, and Mark boyish-faced and charming. But, despite covert observation of both men as a possible role model, her hero had stubbornly refused to come to life. Then Lucas Tennent had caught her in flagrante with her laptop today, and wham, her main character had materialised right before her startled, guilty eyes.
After a couple of hours, much as she was enjoying herself in such convivial company, Emily resisted pleas to stay longer and went up early to her room. She sat down at her desk, booted up the laptop, and set to work on her novel. By the time she went to bed she felt tired, but very pleased with herself. Adding Lucas Tennent’s physical assets to the previously bare bones of her central male character had provided her with exactly the charismatic hero she needed for her plot.
The moment Emily was dressed next morning the twins came knocking on her door. ‘Hi, you two,’ she said affectionately.
‘Dad said we mustn’t bother you if you’re busy,’ said Thomas in one breath, then smiled cajolingly. ‘But please come down for coffee. We’ve got to go after lunch.’
‘We’ll miss you,’ said Lucy, giving Emily a hug.
‘But you’ll be seeing Mummy today, sweetheart, so you won’t need me. I bet she’s missed you a lot,’ said Emily, deliberately cheerful. ‘Give her my love.’
Lucy’s big blue eyes filled with tears. ‘Emily, will you ask Mummy to be friends with Daddy again?’
‘You can’t ask Emily to do that!’ said her twin gruffly.
Emily went downstairs with the children, wishing she could do something to help. But the Sedleys’ private affairs were none of her business. She’d known them both a long time, it was true, but had no idea what sin Nat had committed that Thea found impossible to forgive. Nor did she want to know. Sorting out her own personal life was more than enough.
Emily enjoyed a lively half-hour with the twins, but when they were settled in front of Saturday morning television Nat beckoned her into his kitchen and shut the door.
‘Why has Lucy been crying?’
Emily looked at him squarely. ‘She wanted me to ask Thea to be friends with you again, and Tom told her that wasn’t on.’
His handsome face went blank. ‘Are you going to do that?’
‘Do you want me to?’
Nat was silent for a moment, then gave her a smile just like his son’s. ‘If I thought it would do any good, yes. But it won’t.’ He shivered a little. ‘Forget it, love. Don’t get involved.’
Emily eyed him with suspicion. ‘Are you all right, Nat? Not coming down with something, too, are you?’
‘Too?’
‘Like Mark,’ she said hastily.
He shook his head. ‘I’m just dandy, other than taking my children back to the love of my life, who won’t let me over the doorstep.’ He forced a smile. ‘You’ve had enough upset in your life lately without worrying about me, Emily. Enjoy your weekend.’
But before getting ready to go out Emily gave in to her prodding conscience and rang Lucas Tennent, who growled a response so hoarse it was obvious he was worse than the day before.
‘Good morning,’ she said briskly, ‘this is Emily Warner.’
‘Who?’
She bristled. ‘Your cleaner, Mr Tennent. I wondered how you were feeling today.’
‘Oh, right.’ There was a pause. ‘Actually, I feel bloody awful.’
‘Have you eaten anything?’
A spasm of coughing blasted her ear before he spoke again. ‘No,’ he rasped. ‘Not hungry.’
‘Is your temperature still high?’
‘Probably.’ He gulped audibly. ‘Oh, hell—’
Emily seethed for a moment after he disconnected, then told herself it was idiotic to feel offended. Even more so to worry about a perfect stranger. Especially one who couldn’t remember who she was.
Mindful of Ginny, who always looked effortlessly right, Emily took time over her appearance, then went downstairs for a last hug from the twins before she set off for Knightsbridge to meet her friend.
‘I say, darling, you look rather gorgeous today,’ exclaimed Ginny Hart, when Emily joined her in the Harvey Nichols coffee shop.
‘I like the “today” bit,’ chuckled Emily, shedding the amber wool coat bought in the days when she still had a high-salary job. ‘I try my best every day.’
‘A bargain, that coat—matches your eyes,’ commented Ginny, and eyed the clinging black knit dress with approval. ‘Don’t tell me you wear that kind of thing to scrub floors!’
‘I don’t scrub floors. My clients provide labour-saving devices. Like mops.’
Ginny sniffed. ‘The tyrant who cleans for us demands extraordinary things. A new three-inch paintbrush to dust the skirtings, would you believe?’
Saturday morning coffee had been a treat enjoyed together in the days of flat-sharing, and a ritual kept to whenever possible since, despite marriage for Ginny and a relationship of a less binding nature for Emily.
‘So what’s new?’ asked Ginny, after their order arrived.
‘I met the man I clean for at last,’