It seemed to her that she’d spent most of the past week reviewing all the possible options. That she’d tramped endless streets, climbed endless stairs, and yet, in spite of her best efforts, she was still destined to be homeless in less than forty-eight hours.
Maybe I’m just too fussy, she thought wearily. After all, I can’t exactly afford to pick and choose, not when time is running out on me. But everything remotely liveable is out of my price range, and in the places I might just be able to afford, I’d be afraid to close my eyes at night in case I woke up and heard hundreds of tiny feet marching towards me from the sink cupboard.
The only bright spot in her personal darkness was how little she’d seen of Mark Benedict since that first evening. In fact, he seemed to be spending the minimum time at the flat, which she suspected was a deliberate policy. That he was keeping his distance while he bided his time, waiting for eviction day when she would be out of his home and his life for good.
He was usually gone by the time she emerged from her room in the morning, which was her own deliberate policy, and he invariably returned late at night, if at all, so the rest and recreation season must still be in full swing.
Not that it was any concern of hers, she added hastily. And if Miss Acid Voice was the one to float his boat, then good luck to the pair of them.
Because the fewer awkward encounters she herself was forced to endure, the better.
Maybe, when the time came, she would simply be able to … slip away, leaving the amount she’d calculated she owed him for use of the electricity and the telephone on the kitchen table. A dignified retreat, with the added advantage that there’d be no difficult questions about forwarding addresses to deflect, and she wouldn’t have to admit openly that she’d found nowhere else to live and that, as a consequence, she was going home.
In Mark Benedict’s fortunate absence, Tallie had fielded two anxious phone calls from her mother that week, enquiring if she was all right and how the caretaking was progressing. She’d forced herself to admit there were a few teething troubles, adding brightly that she was sure they were nothing she couldn’t handle.
Preparing the ground, she told herself wryly, for the moment when she turned up on the family doorstep confessing failure. And soon it would be as if she’d never been away, with the waters closing over her time in London as if it had not existed, and probably taking the book down with it too. Drowning it in loving routine and the domestic demands of a busy household.
Then there would be the rest of it. She could see her life stretching ahead of her like a straight, flat road. Finding a job locally, she thought. Running out of excuses not to go out with nice David Ackland, who’d joined his father’s accountancy practice in the nearby market town, and who, her mother said, had been asking after her, wondering when she’d be back to visit.
And, hardest of all, trying to avoid all the places in the village that she would always associate with Gareth, even if he was never coming back.
The thought of him was simple misery—like a stone lodged in her chest.
But she had to get over it. Had to draw a line and prepare for her future, even if it wasn’t the one she would have chosen.
Yet how many people are actually that lucky? she wondered drearily as she let herself into the flat, pausing to listen to the silence. Ensuring once again that she had the place to herself.
She dumped her bag in her room, kicked off her shoes and went straight to the bathroom for a long and recuperative shower, thoroughly scrubbing her skin and shampooing her hair until all lingering creepy-crawly memories were erased and she felt clean again.
She put on her cotton robe, bundled up her discarded clothing, and left the bathroom, only to walk straight into Mark Benedict in the passage outside, tall and dark in a business suit, his silk tie wrenched loose by an impatient hand.
‘Oh, God.’ Tallie recoiled with a gasp. ‘It’s you.’
He looked at her, brows raised. ‘And why wouldn’t it be? I do live here, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said shortly, annoyed at her overreaction, and wishing with all her heart that she too was fully dressed, with her hair dry, and definitely not clutching an armful of stuff that included her damned underwear. ‘I was just … startled, that’s all.’
‘Well, not for much longer.’ He paused. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware.’
‘How could I forget?’ Tallie tried a nonchalant shrug and found herself grabbing at her slipping bundle instead. Insouciance was never going to work for her with Mark Benedict around, she thought crossly. ‘But please don’t worry. I shan’t exceed my deadline.’
‘You’ve found another flat?’
‘I have somewhere to go, yes.’ She added with deliberate crispness, not wishing to be questioned further in case she let slip some hint that she was going home in defeat, ‘If it’s any business of yours.’
‘You don’t think I’m bound to be just a little concerned? Under the circumstances?’
‘I think it’s unnecessary.’ Tallie lifted her chin. ‘And please spare me any more references to abandoned puppies.’
‘At the moment,’ he said, his mouth twisting, ‘a half-drowned kitten seems more appropriate.’ He reached out and pushed a strand of wet hair away from her cheek with his fingertip. It was the lightest of touches, but Tallie felt it shiver all the way down to her bare feet. Found herself staring at him, suddenly mute with shock at her body’s unwonted—and unwanted response.
‘If you’re still wondering why I’m home at this hour,’ he went on casually, apparently unaware that she’d been turned to stone before his eyes, ‘I have some friends coming to dinner tonight.’
‘Oh.’ She took a steadying breath, thankful that she hadn’t been guilty of squeaking, jumping back in alarm or any other embarrassing giveaway. ‘In that case, I’ll eat early. Leave the kitchen free for you.’
‘I shan’t be slaving over a hot stove myself.’ His voice held faint amusement. ‘I use a firm of caterers—Dining In—but they’ll probably be glad of some room to manoeuvre.’
‘Naturally.’ She managed a smile of sorts. ‘Consider it done.’
‘And when I have more time,’ he said, his glance thoughtful, ‘you can tell me all about your new place … Tallie.’
She was at her bedroom door, but she turned defensively. ‘How did you know I was called that?’
‘Because someone left a message for you on my answering machine earlier, and that’s the name she used instead of Natalie.’
She flushed with vexation. ‘Oh, heavens, my mother …’
‘I don’t think so. The name she gave was Morgan—Alice Morgan. She wants you to call her.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘You do know who she is?’
‘Yes, she’s the agent who’s going to try and sell my book when it’s finished.’ Tallie took another deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I—I haven’t mentioned to her yet that I’m moving, but I’ll warn her … not to call here in future. You won’t be bothered again.’
‘For God’s sake.’ The amusement was tempered with exasperation. ‘It’s hardly a problem, if she needs to contact you. And why shouldn’t I know that you’re called Tallie? I’ve no objection to you addressing me as Mark.’
‘Because Tallie’s a private name,’ she said coldly. ‘Used only by my family and friends.’
Whereas, on your lips, it sounds as intimate as a touch, and I can’t cope with that. Not again.