Grace had talked about finding a lock-up place to store the stuff from the flat. At this time of the evening, she’d be lucky to find somewhere to sort it out. And he had more than enough space to store her stuff. Even though part of him didn’t really want to get involved, part of him knew that if something like this had happened to his sister, he’d want someone looking out for her. Grace was his best friend’s sister-in-law. So that kind of made him responsible, didn’t it?
On the way back to her flat, he called one of his team and asked him to bring a van.
She was already loading things into the back of her car when he got there.
‘Coffee,’ he said, and handed her one of the paper cups. ‘I didn’t know if you took milk or sugar, so I got it black and there are packets of sugar.’
‘Thank you. How much do I owe you?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. And I have a van on the way. Do you have some bags, boxes or suitcases I can start filling?’
‘A van?’ she asked, looking puzzled.
‘The flat’s small, but we’re not going to be able to fit its entire contents into your car and mine,’ he pointed out.
‘So you hired a van?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Actually, that makes a lot of sense. I should’ve thought of that. Thank you. Obviously I’ll reimburse you for whatever you’ve paid out.’
‘There’s no need—it’s my van,’ he said.
She frowned. ‘But this isn’t your mess, so why...?’
‘Because you’re Hugh’s sister-in-law,’ he said. ‘If this had happened to my sister when I was out of the country, Hugh and Tarq would’ve looked out for her. So I’m doing the same, by extension.’
‘Considering that you and I didn’t exactly hit it off at the wedding,’ she said, ‘this is really nice of you. And I appreciate it. Thank you.’
Roland was beginning to think that he’d seriously misjudged Grace. If she’d been the spoiled, princessy drunk he’d thought she was, she would’ve been wailing and expecting everyone else to sort out the mess for her—most probably while she swigged a glass of wine and wandered about doing nothing. Instead, while he’d been away, she’d been quietly and efficiently getting on with moving stuff out of the flat. Not liking the guilt that was beginning to seep through him, he handed her a brownie. ‘Chocolate. My sister says it makes everything better.’
Then she smiled—the first real smile he’d seen from her—and he was shocked to discover that it made the street feel as if it had just lit up.
‘Your sister sounds like a wise woman.’
‘She is.’
* * *
Roland Devereux was the last person Grace had expected to come to her rescue, but she really appreciated the fact that he had. And today he was very different from the way he’d been at the wedding. This time, he didn’t make her feel the way that Howard’s mother always made her feel. He treated her like a human being instead of something nasty stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Fortified by the coffee and the brownies, between them they had most of Grace’s things outside in boxes and bags by the time Roland’s van arrived. And in the meantime, Grace’s neighbours had returned, offering sympathy when they saw the mess and thankfully finding the landlord’s number for her.
She called the landlord, but there was no answer, so she left a message explaining what had happened and giving him her mobile number, and continued moving stuff out of the flat.
Roland’s plumber arrived and took a look at the burst pipe.
‘It’s very old piping around here,’ he said. ‘The system probably got blocked somewhere along the line, and this pipe had a weaker joint that couldn’t cope with the extra pressure.’
‘So it wasn’t anything I did wrong?’ Grace asked.
‘No, love—it was just one of those things. I can do a temporary repair now, and then sort it out properly tomorrow.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you. Let me have an invoice and I’ll pay you straight away.’
‘No need—the boss is covering it.’
‘The boss?’ she asked, mystified.
‘Roland,’ the plumber explained.
What? But it shouldn’t be Roland’s bill. OK. Right now she didn’t have time for a discussion. She’d sort it out with him later.
She’d just left the plumber when a restoration specialist turned up and introduced himself. He took photographs of everything, and asked her to hold a metal ruler against the wall to show the depth of the water. ‘For the insurance,’ he explained. And then he brought a machine from his van to start sucking up the water.
‘I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me,’ Grace said to Roland. ‘Just one more thing—do you happen to know the number of a good lock-up place as well?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s no need. You can store your things at my place.’
She blinked. ‘But you don’t know me. You only met me once before today. For all you know, I could be a thief or a fraudster.’
He shrugged again. ‘You’re my best friend’s sister-in-law—that’s good enough for me.’ He paused. ‘You really can’t stay at the flat until it’s dried out properly.’
‘I know.’ She grimaced. ‘Hopefully I can persuade one of my friends to let me crash on their floor tonight, then I’ll find a hotel or something to put me up until the flat’s usable again.’
* * *
It was a sensible enough plan, and if Roland agreed with her he wouldn’t have to get involved.
But something in her expression made him say, ‘I have a spare room.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’ve already imposed on you far too much.’
‘It’s getting late,’ he said, ‘plus your stuff’s all in the back of your car, my car, and the van. You can’t do anything else here until the landlord calls you back and the insurance assessors turn up—which won’t be until at least tomorrow. And you said yourself that none of your friends have the room to put you up, let alone store your stuff as well. So come and stay with me.’
‘That’s—that’s really kind of you.’
He could see her blinking back the tears and lifted his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. ‘Don’t cry. Please.’ He didn’t cope well with tears. He never had. Which had been half the problem in that last year with Lynette. He’d backed away when he shouldn’t have done. And she’d paid the ultimate price.
Grace swallowed back the threatening tears and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘OK. No more tears, I promise. But thank you. I owe you.’
ONCE THE RESTORATION man had finished getting rid of the worst of the water and Grace had locked the flat, she programmed Roland’s address into her satnav in case she got stuck in traffic and lost both him and the van on the way, then followed him back to his house—which turned out to be in a swish part of Docklands. Once she’d parked behind his car, outside what looked