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‘Besides, haven’t you got plans?’
‘Well, yes. I’m busy on Sunday...’ Grace thought of Tommy, of how much he needed her, how much he hadalwaysneeded her. Sundays were their day. She was always there for him, egging him on, encouraging him, always keen to try and see what more she could do to make his life a little easier.
Whatever foolish confidences she had shared with Nico, that was one she never would, that was a very private side to her that would not be in the public domain.
‘Internet date?’
‘Nico, why have you called? Is it about work?’
‘Yes and no. I need to have a word with you. I wouldn’t have interrupted your Friday evening, Grace, but this can’t wait. I need to see you. We can do this one of three ways. I can either come to your house, you can come to mine or we can meet at the office. It should be busy there at the moment. There’s a social event happening several floors down, some art exhibition McGregor’s giving to try and impress the great and the good in culture, and my people will also be burning the midnight oil working on that computer program I want them to perfect by Monday.’
‘You’re making me nervous, Nico. Can’t you tell me what this is about?’
Come to her house?Grace could think of nothing she wanted less. Nico had never been to her house. There had never been any reason for him to come and even if something urgent had cropped up, she would have done her best to make sure he didn’t put one foot over her threshold. Perhaps, even, one foot in the street where she lived or even the town, for that matter, because she knew that he would have been shocked.
Shocked that she didn’t live in a smart apartment in a smart part of town, because she was certainly paid enough to afford somewhere really nice. He would have wondered where her very fat pay cheque went. He would never know that so much of it had gone on supporting her brother. She had managed to buy Tommy a ground-floor flat with adaptations made to cater for his lack of mobility. He had tried to tell her not to but she had insisted. He needed looking after. He always had, even from a young child. He had never had her strength of character, and after his accident Grace had been all too willing to carry on caretaking duties.
After all, who else was going to look after him? And with her mother on the other side of the world, Tommy was the only family she had left here.
So not only had she sacrificed her own dream of owning a property to help him out and buy him somewhere to live, but then there had been the bills for the private therapist, which hadn’t come cheap.
Fortunately, those had decreased from twice a week to once a week, but there was no way they could be halted for good. How else would her brother ever be in the right frame of mind to deal with the setbacks he had suffered? To fully pick himself up and look to a future very different from the one he had planned?
‘I would rather not on the phone, no.’ Then the briefest of pauses. ‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘I was just about to start preparing my dinner,’ she said on a sigh.
‘In which case, I have an idea. Why don’t you meet me at the office in an hour and I’ll make sure to get some food in? I know how inconvenient this is and you have my apologies but, like I’ve said, I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t necessary.’
‘I suppose...if it’s urgent...’
‘Great. See you there in an hour. French, Indian or Italian?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Choice of food. French, Indian or Italian?’
‘I honestly am not fussy.’
‘One of your many endearing traits and probably why we work so well together. Leave it to me. I’ll make sure neither of us goes hungry.’
At which point he cut the call and, for a few seconds, Grace stared at the phone in her hand before leaping to her feet to hurriedly tidy the kitchen and then get changed into something...
Into what?
Her usual outfit? Knee-length skirt and tidy blouse andI-mean-businessflat black pumps?
On a Friday evening?
Reluctantly Grace chose jeans and a slim-fitting tee shirt and an old tan bomber jacket she had inherited from her mother, just in case it was cold by the time she left.
For once, she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. Nico, for all his colourful love life and ever-changing parade of beauties, was utterly predictable when it came to his working life.
Nothing ever came in the way of it. The women he dated were confined to life outside his cutting-edge offices and on the rare occasions when one of them had ventured where angels feared to tread, she had learnt that such errors of judgement were not to be repeated.
So what was this about? How could it beyes and nowhen it came to work? He wasn’t ayes and noman.
It felt strange to be hurrying to the office, dressed down, without her stern work clothes in place, as secure and as reassuring as a chastity belt, keeping her imagination in check and reminding her of the differences between them.
