‘Steady,’ warned Emily. ‘Not too fast.’
‘It’s my first sustenance for days!’ But he ate the rest with more care. ‘Toast never tasted so good,’ he informed her, then inspected the steaming contents of the mug with suspicion. ‘What’s this?’
‘Weak tea—kinder to your digestion than coffee,’ she said firmly, and took two paracetamol tablets from the packet on his bedside table. ‘Take these with it, and I’ll make you some coffee later.’
Lucas swallowed the tablets obediently, then sipped the tea, frowning at her over the mug. ‘You know, Miss Warner, this is extraordinarily good of you, but why are you here? You must have better things to do with your time on a Sunday?’
She shrugged. ‘I had my very first dose of flu fairly recently, so I can appreciate how ghastly you feel. But I had my mother to look after me. I couldn’t help feeling worried about you here on your own.’
He shook his head in wonder. ‘You’re pretty amazing to worry about a complete stranger. But now you are here, there is something you can do for me.’
‘Certainly. What is it?’
‘Indulge my curiosity. What made someone like you take to cleaning as a career?’
‘Someone like me?’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’m damned sure you haven’t always been a cleaner, so why do you do it?’
‘I enjoy it,’ she said simply.
‘Fair enough.’ He put the empty cup down and slid further under the covers. ‘But what did you do before that?’
‘Office work.’ She got up. ‘Right. I’ll take those things. Try to sleep if you can. I’ll stay for a while to see how you get on, then I must get back.’
‘No laptop today?’
‘Certainly not. Friday was a one-off, Mr Tennent.’ She picked up the tray. ‘Try to sleep.’
‘Thanks, I will,’ he murmured drowsily. ‘What can I do for you in return?’
‘Get better, please.’
Back in the kitchen Emily emptied the carton of soup she’d bought into a mug and put it in the microwave. She left the loaf in a prominent place on a board, placed the breadknife beside it and a dish of butter close at hand, then made herself some tea and sat on one of the smart stools at the bar, yawning. The late night was catching up on her. From now on, definitely no more writing after midnight.
She wrote instructions on the memo pad about the food she’d left ready, and after a moment’s hesitation added her new, unlisted phone number. She tiptoed in with her note to find that Lucas Tennent, obviously feeling the effect of his disturbed nights, was out for the count. But he looked a lot better than the wild-eyed apparition of earlier on.
The house in Spitalfields was ablaze with lights in Nat’s ground-floor section when Emily got back. Not brave enough to ask how things had gone with the trip to Chastlecombe, she let herself in and toiled up the two flights of steep stairs to her room, then put on speed when she heard her phone ringing. She unlocked her door and made a dash across the room, worried it was Lucas feeling worse. Then she stopped dead, every hackle erect, when a different, all too familiar voice began leaving a message.
‘Pick up, Emily. I know you’re there. We need to talk. Pick up.’ There was a pause, then a soft chuckle. ‘Don’t be childish. Ring me.’
CHAPTER TWO
EMILY glared at the machine. The mere sound of Miles Denny’s voice still tied her stomach in knots. But with cold animosity now. Once upon a time she’d been attracted to the sexy drawl he cultivated. Just as, according to Miles, her own husky voice had been an instant turn-on for him. But that had been in the beginning when he’d been moving heaven and earth to get her to live with him. Emily clenched her fists. With hindsight she found it hard to believe she could have been such a fool.
She had been working in a firm of commercial property consultants when Miles joined the company, and almost from the day they met he’d pursued her relentlessly. Firmly against inter-office relationships, Emily had held him off at first. But his persistence had been flattering, she’d been lonely without Ginny, and eventually, after wearing her down with months of persuasion, he’d won. But, once they were actually sharing a home, Miles’ contribution to the running of it was minimal. In the evenings, while Emily cooked their meal and dealt with housework and laundry, he spent his time on the sofa, recharging his batteries in front of the television. Her only break had been on Friday nights, when Miles took her out for a meal.
How could she have been so stupid? she thought in disgust. Living together had soon shown her how little they had in common, and when Miles had taken to spending regular time with male friends after work Emily had thoroughly enjoyed the evenings with no dinner to cook and the television firmly turned off. Early to bed with a book had meant she was always asleep, or pretending to be, by the time Miles came home.
When it had become obvious that a good night’s sleep was infinitely preferable to the lovemaking she’d found so disappointing with Miles, Emily had known it was time to move on. Deciding to tell him straight away, she’d waited up until he got home from one of his men-only evenings. And discovered why Miles had always been so meticulous about showering before sharing their bed. He’d reeked of musky, alien perfume and other scents Emily had identified with furious distaste.
The phone rang, bringing her back to the present with a bump. She tensed, eyeing the phone belligerently, but this time the message was from Lucas Tennent.
Emily seized the receiver. ‘I’m here,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Is something wrong? How do you feel?’
‘Not marvellous, but thanks to you, Miss Warner, there’s an outside chance I’ll live. Now I can string two words together without barking like a hound, I’m ringing to thank you.’
‘Only too happy to help,’ she assured him, eyebrows raised at the change in his attitude.
‘I heated the soup, as per your instructions,’ he went on. ‘And even cut some bread, but I was too damn feeble to wrestle with the coffee machine so I made some tea. I didn’t know I had any tea—’
‘I bought it for you.’
‘Then I owe you, Miss Warner.’
‘You can pay me tomorrow, Mr Tennent. Is there anything else you need?’
‘Just a morning paper as you come in, if you would. How do you get here?’
‘I walk.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Spitalfields. Would you like me to make lunch for you?’
‘Don’t bother about that. Just the sound of a human voice will do. Wallowing alone with my bug soon lost its appeal.’
Emily frowned. ‘The Donaldsons are away, of course, but surely you have other friends who could call round?’
‘The two most likely succumbed to the bug before I did—’ He broke off to cough, and Emily waited until he was quiet before asking if there was anything else he needed.
‘I can get it on my way in, Mr Tennent.’
‘Call me Lucas.’
‘Not suitable,’ she said firmly.
‘Why the hell not?’
‘For obvious reasons.’
‘If you mean because you work for me, that’s rubbish,’ he said with scorn. ‘According to the great and good we live in a classless society these days.’
‘It’s nothing to do with class,’ she said indignantly.
‘You