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She watched him leave the flat and tried to pull her heart up from the soles of her shoes. Would the business meeting last all day, right into the evening? He’d been in such a hurry to dump
her here and get away, had shown no interest whatsoever in the place that would be their home until they could afford to move to somewhere bigger.
His main interest, it appeared—apart from getting away—had been in making sure she claimed her inheritance.
Because he knew how much Laura wanted to move back there, or because it was an extremely valuable property?
She caught that thought and stamped on it with great determination. She wouldn’t think that of him. She would not!’
If he wasn’t interested in his new home she could hardly blame him. It had little to commend it. He was preoccupied with his business meeting, and that was understandable. And hadn’t he already said that he’d tell her all about it when it was finalised? He wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch the venture if he wasn’t sure it would be successful.
She trusted him implicitly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE appointment with the solicitor was fixed for two days hence. Allie scribbled the time in her diary and wondered whether to phone her mother, realised she would probably be out at work and decided to phone her agent instead. She riffled through the pad she kept on the telephone table until she found the agency’s new number.
She needed to start earning again, but she would refuse anything that took her overseas. She wouldn’t spend any more time away from Jethro than was absolutely necessary.
‘Darling—you’re just who I need!’ Christa Fisher screeched. ‘Absolutely heaven-sent. You’re going to dig me out of a hole; I know you are!’
Allie grinned, well used to her agent’s histrionics. But all that effusion hid a very sharp business brain and Allie said, ‘Have you got anything for me? Fairly local—my days of travelling the world on assignments are over. I’m a married woman now.’
Anticipating Christa’s shriek of delighted disbelief, Allie held the receiver away from her ear, and when she gingerly replaced it the other woman was saying, ‘…several possibilities. The Pure Magic cosmetic people asked for you— I told them you were resting, but they’re still looking. I’ll get on to them right away.
‘Now, that hole I was talking about. My dear, would you believe it? Marietta’s let me down. She was supposed to be the star of a charity fashion parade and gala tonight. She phoned and called off this morning. The stupid cow’s fallen and broken her collarbone, would you believe! What she thought she was doing, tramping some grouse moor with some titled Hooray Henry, I simply cannot imagine! I fixed Sasha Dell up as her replacement, but she simply hasn’t got your style. Now, why don’t we do lunch and discuss it?’
‘Tonight’s not—’
‘Must fly!’ Christa warbled. ‘See you in an hour—that trendy new place—Dosser’s, Covent Garden, yah?’
Wryly wrinkling her nose, Allie replaced the buzzing receiver and scribbled down the name of the lunch venue on the open pad, beneath Christa’s number. True to form, her agent hadn’t let her get a word in. But lunch would pass the time. She could find out what work was on offer and explain that Christa would have to stick with Sasha Dell for tonight’s gala. She was having dinner with her husband, and no way would she cancel that date!
An hour gave her just enough time to pile her hair on top of her head, apply light make-up, and step into narrow indigo-blue trousers and a matching slim-line jacket. It was one of her few decent outfits, kept for when she needed to look understatedly elegant.
Jethro had told her to wear something special tonight. Her mouth softened. She’d dazzle him with the black she kept for gala appearances: figure-hugging silk with a sculptured sequinned top kept in place by the narrowest of straps. She would show him she could look a million dollars if she wanted to!
She was five minutes late when the taxi deposited her outside Dosser’s. ‘Trendy’ was the operative word, she decided as she was shown to Christa’s table.
Great quantities of chrome and smoked glass gave the restaurant a Fifties feel, with portraits of film icons of the era smouldering down from the walls and a Presley tape playing in the background.
‘Sorry if I kept you waiting,’ Allie apologised as she slid into her seat. ‘The traffic was horrendous.’
‘No worries! I’ve decided that this place is not my scene. I just hope there’s more on the menu than hamburgers and frothy coffee.’ Christa flicked her fingers at a passing waiter. ‘Another G and T, and plenty of ice. And for you, darling?’
‘Spring water with a twist of lemon.’ Allie picked up the menu, grinned when she saw the dreaded hamburgers, slid her eyes down and found a seafood salad that sounded just right.
‘But, as I was saying, this would be a good place for talent-spotting—they all seem so young! For instance, there’s a dishy dolly at one of the window tables, lunching with her lover. Darling, an absolute hunk! He was called away to the phone seconds before you arrived. Can you see her? Dark hair, bright red dress?’
She rested her pointed chin on her hands, narrowing her bright hazel eyes. ‘Restyle that hair, decent make-up, a really good photographer, and she could be a winner. What do you think?’
Anything to oblige! Allie had to move her chair slightly to be able to look back into the main body of the room, towards the windows. And because of the position of the other occupied tables she could only see the girl’s head and shoulders.
Chloe Abbot, surely. She could clearly recall the pretty face in the silver-framed photograph, the untamed cloud of dark hair, the slightly obstinate chin, the pouting, leaf-shaped mouth. If that girl wasn’t Chloe, she was her double. It would be something interesting to tell Jethro this evening. She wondered who her lover was.
‘Her face has character,’ she agreed, smiling, and turned back to Christa, who was downing her second gin and ordering for them both. ‘The seafood salad, yah?’
‘Fine,’ Allie concurred, ready to talk business, explain that she wouldn’t be available this evening.
