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Standing up, she tried not to notice how out of place Alex Trevelyan seemed in jeans that looked about ready to lie down and die, black Chelsea boots with scuffed toes and a crumpled leather jacket. She doubted very much that he’d even glanced in the mirror that morning considering how his mussed-up chestnut-brown hair fell over his cobalt-blue eyes and what must have been a week’s worth of stubble darkened his prominent cheekbones and square jaw.
A few years ago, his just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy musician charisma would have been irresistible to her naïve, overly optimistic self, but not any more. She’d learnt her lesson about men like that the hard way. If she dated anyone these days, she went for smart, business-orientated men who were just as focused on their careers as she was. Though, as Amy had regularly pointed out, that was probably why she’d remained mostly single for the last couple of years. Which Flora was fine with. She didn’t need a man to fulfil her.
As he drew nearer, Alex’s bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles made her heart squeeze. She mentally berated herself for being so critical of his appearance when the poor man’s twin sister had died barely a month ago. He was obviously still grief-stricken.
She’d only seen him briefly at the funeral; he’d turned up at the last second wearing casual grey trousers and a bright blue shirt that had been open at the neck and glaringly free of a tie. To be fair, Amy hadn’t wanted them to wear the usual black mourning clothes. Afterwards, he’d been busy with the vicar and a group of people whom she’d guessed were old friends of the family. She, in turn, had been caught up talking to mutual acquaintances of her and Amy’s. By the time she’d looked round to offer her condolences to Alex he’d disappeared, not even turning up at the wake afterwards. She’d guessed he’d been too upset to face any more sympathy from strangers.
Amy’s words swam across her vision—I was the only family he had left. He needed her support and kindness right now, not her judgement.
Relaxing her posture so that her hands fell neatly to her sides, Flora gave Alex her warmest smile as he finally navigated past the last couple of linen-covered tables and came to a halt in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she was just about to launch into the short monologue she’d composed in her head about how pleased she was that he’d agreed to meet her so they could talk about Amy and support each other during such a difficult time, when he leaned past her to pick up her glass of mineral water and proceeded to chug the whole lot of it, not even acknowledging her presence until he’d satisfied his thirst.
‘That’s better,’ he gasped, slamming the glass back down onto the table before finally turning to face her with a wink. ‘Don’t let anyone talk you into drinking whisky after four pints at the pub. It’s a life event catalyst.’
She stared at him, aghast.
Instead of looking contrite, he yawned loudly into his hand. ‘Sorry, I’ve only just got up. Late night.’
Flora swallowed back her shock before replying, ‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.’
He smiled, his expression one of wry audacity. ‘Like I said, late night.’
This wasn’t the grieving, broken man she’d been expecting to turn up today and the incongruity was playing havoc with her composure—something that made her really uncomfortable. She hated to be on the back foot; years of facing difficult clients in tense business situations had taught her that.
Pulling herself together, she said, ‘Thanks for meeting me. I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other, what with us being the two people closest to Amy.’
He nodded, then motioned for her to sit down, taking the seat opposite.
‘You were in the States, right? New York?’ he asked once he was settled.
‘Yes, I was working as Head of Marketing for Bounce soft drinks,’ she said proudly. ‘I transferred over there when the company opened up a New York office about a year ago.’
Usually when she mentioned her job and the position she held, people would look impressed and start asking her questions about what that entailed and how she’d risen so quickly up the ranks, but Alex didn’t say a word. And he didn’t seem impressed either; he seemed...bored.
This didn’t surprise her though; Amy had told her all about her brother’s attitude towards people who worked for corporations and how he thought it was ‘capitalist gluttony with a corporate greed cherry on top.’ Flora privately thought that a man who had given up a perfectly good job in corporate finance to faff about as a musician had no right to judge others and their career choices. If he wanted to waste his talents just so he could sit on his high horse, looking down on others who were slogging away to make a success of themselves, then that was his business.
She wasn’t going to rise to it. She had more important things to worry about—like gaining the trust and respect of her new boss. After transferring to the London-based office it was proving harder than she’d expected to do this.
Not for the first time, it had made her question whether she should set up her own business at some point, but she was keenly aware of what a big risk that would be.
She gave herself a mental shake. She really shouldn’t be allowing her thoughts to wander back to work right now.
‘Anyway, since I’m over here now I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other a bit so we could support each other,’ she said, waving for the waiter, who appeared not to notice her. Biting back a sigh of frustration, she refocused on Alex, who was lounging back in his chair with his arms folded and his brow furrowed.
Was it her imagination or did he really not want to be here?
She cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t want to be one of those people who kept away for fear of not knowing what to say to someone who’s just lost someone close to them,’ she said, deciding just to plough on. ‘Sending flowers and cards is all very well, but sometimes you just need some human contact, you know?’
He cocked his head and gave her a slow grin. ‘Is that why you came back to England? For some human contact?’
She shifted in her seat, feeling heat rise up her neck. ‘I needed a change of scene,’ she said, straightening the cutlery on the table.
What she didn’t tell him was that he was the real reason for moving back here. She was determined to take Amy’s last wish seriously, and if that meant living in the same city as Alex for a while then so be it. London was too far removed from Bath to keep an eye on him easily, and she certainly couldn’t have done it from New York. So she’d jumped at an opportunity for a temporary transfer to the West London office, commuting in from Bath to oversee a UK-only product launch.
Alex appeared to be thinking about what she’d said, and after a short pause he leaned forwards in his chair to look her right in the eye, as if making the decision to finally engage with the conversation. ‘It’s good to meet you in the flesh,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin. ‘Amy talked about you a lot over the years.’ He paused. ‘And during the last weeks of her life.’
At last there was a flash of emotion in his eyes, which he blinked away quickly.
Flora nodded, taking a moment to relax her throat, which had tightened with sorrow at the sound of her best friend’s name. ‘It’s good to meet you too. I—’ She took a breath. ‘I feel awful that I didn’t make it back in time to see her in the hospice. I tried to get back to England as fast as I could, but—’ She’d run out of words. The pathetic ring to her excuse made her cringe inside.
She’d thought she had more time. That Amy had more time. Her friend had told her during one of their regular video calls that she was doing better and not to worry about rushing back to see her. But then she’d taken a sudden, unexpected turn for the worse.
As if he’d read her mind, Alex leaned forwards and put his large, warm hand over hers where it lay on the table. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. None of us realised she’d go that soon. She did se
em to have a reprieve at one point. You couldn’t have known. Amy knew you would have come sooner if you’d been able to. She told me that.’
Flora could do nothing but nod like one of those tacky toy dogs you saw in the back of cars sometimes. She was suddenly terrified she might start crying in the middle of the restaurant and have to sit there with her make-up running down her face and nowhere to hide.
Alex obviously read her distress because he gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Hey, let’s get out of here. This place is making my headache worse.’ He glanced around the magnificent room with a pained grimace. ‘There’s a really good pub round the corner that does amazing burgers.’
Wrestling her emotions back under control, Flora shot him a bewildered look. ‘But we’ve come here for afternoon tea.’ She gestured round at the magnificent eighteenth-century room with its cut-glass chandelier hanging from the ornate ceiling and the grand piano, which was being expertly played by a gentleman in a tuxedo.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘For a tiny plate of overpriced cucumber sandwiches? Sorry, but that’s not going to cut it for me today.’
‘Actually, this place is known for having one of the best—’ But he’d already stood up and was waving for the waiter to bring the bill.
Deciding not to fight him on this—she wanted to keep things as friendly and light-hearted as possible considering why they were meeting each other today—she gritted her teeth and stood up, taking her purse out of her bag ready to pay for her drink.
He spotted her pulling out a twenty-pound note and waved it away.
‘I’ll get this.’
‘You don’t have—’ But he’d already taken the bill from the waiter. He proceeded to rummage in his pockets to produce a handful of coins, which he emptied into his hand.
‘Thanks, man,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’
The waiter gave him a tight smile, then walked away, no doubt cursing them both for being the most awkward customers of the day.
Outside the Pump Room crowds of shoppers were stopping and starting along the pavement, as every now and again someone would halt at one of the little German-style wooden huts belonging to the large Christmas market that had taken over the whole of the city centre.
