Chloe's Rescue Mission (13 page)

‘Wouldn’t you rather go into the sitting room?’ I asked, painfully aware my mother would shortly be soaking her bones just a few feet above us. She might be losing a few marbles but her hearing was still as keen as a bat’s.

‘No. I’m fine here. Thanks,’ he said, holding out his hand for the coffee.

I sat opposite him, turfing a disgruntled Fluffy from the seat. The fat tabby gave a yowl of protest but retaliated by leaping onto the table, and parking her backside on St Mildred’s list of Local Events.

Duncan huffed with laughter and immediately began stroking the creature, finding exactly the right spot beneath its ear to elicit the most sonorous of purrings.

Even the wretched cat was on his side.

I lifted the too-hot-to-drink tea to my mouth, then put it down again. I was sitting on the edge of my chair. I clasped my hands beneath the table and chose not to look directly at Duncan, focusing instead on his hand caressing Fluffy. Hands that last night…

‘I’m sorry about…’ we both spoke at once. I waited and allowed him to continue.

‘I’m sorry you’ve fallen prey to the dreaded tabloid press but, I’m afraid, that’s the price you pay these days for seeking publicity – no matter how altruistic your motives.’ He paused. I looked up. His face showed no emotion. ‘And allying yourself with me is way too tempting for the paparazzi.’

I cleared my throat. ‘I can see that now. If I’d known…’ What? If I’d known he was a notorious bachelor I wouldn’t have gone to meet him?

Ludicrous. I’d been determined to throw myself into the theatre project, whatever it took. I just hadn’t foreseen how unscrupulous the fickle fairy of publicity could be.

‘Look – what’s happened, happened.’ I talked to my mug of tea. ‘We both know it was foolish, especially in the light of…’ There was no easy way to say it, so I changed tack. ‘I’m still very grateful that you took me to Spain, I made some excellent connections. I’ve collected a ton of business cards,’ 128, to be precise, but the bulk of those were from the raffle and didn’t look all that promising. ‘So I’m – we are extremely grateful. I know I speak for all the family.’ Fluffy was purring like a jet engine, so Duncan must still be stroking her but I felt as if his eyes hadn’t left my face. ‘You’ve given us just the springboard we need to move forward. And I’ll make sure your company is listed as a supporter – if you’d be happy with that?’

I glanced up. He had the look of a high court judge – contemplative – eyes narrowed, lips tight. I braced myself for the passing of his sentence. In the silence, I blundered on. ‘Right now, I still need to find myself a backer – perhaps, if I send you a list of the contacts I’ve made, you could advise me of the ones you think would have the most influence and…money?’

Duncan continued studying me, his brows shadowing his eyes.

Oh dear. Maybe I was asking too much. All the same, there was every chance he was going to withdraw his patronage, so I’d do my damnedest to gain as much from him as I possibly could. Something seemed to pull inside my chest as I realised this might my last meeting with him. ‘I thought perhaps Jonah from the record company – at least he’s in the entertainment industry or maybe a bigger corporate, like Zeniaga Medica – what was the guy’s name, Liam?’

*

Duncan was trying to work out if she was deliberately baiting him. Neither of the two she’d mentioned had the kind of backing or coverage Thorsen Leisure enjoyed. He drew a deep breath and sat back, running a hand through his hair before responding. ‘What did they offer?’

She shifted on her chair. ‘Well, nothing specific. We didn’t have time to discuss details. But they were really encouraging and both said they’d be happy for me to contact them, if I needed to.’

He’d just bet they would.

Her charm, creativity and dedication were unquestionable but in the big bad world of commerce, she’d be like a battery chicken in a skulk of foxes. Her face might be composed and her eyes clear but her hands gave her away, as they rapidly turned the ring on her finger. ‘Chloe, what you need is a business plan…’

‘We do have one, it was in the information pack I gave you.’

‘I’ve seen it. It’s a wish list not a plan.’ He watched for the reaction on her face. She scowled into her cup. ‘As far as I can tell, you and your family have absolutely no experience in running a business, and the business manager you employed was a disaster.’ She huffed out a sigh. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s not your strength. But the theatre needs more than enthusiasm and sentimentality. I can have Marlean set up a project team to meet with you next week.’ She raised her head, a puzzled look on her face. Perhaps he’d misread the situation. He continued, ‘Unless, of course, you would prefer to work with a different company.’ He raised his hands as if to say, do as you choose.

He waited. Clearly, she was weighing up the advantages of his company’s support against the drawback of working with him and his reputation. Finally, she said, ‘I have absolutely no objection to working with your company. Thank you.’

He continued. ‘Good. Just make sure you bring all your paperwork with you, and a list of any connections you’ve already made.’

*

I couldn’t believe my ears. After everything that had happened, Duncan had decided not to drop us. My insides did a forward and back somersault. ‘Of course. And I promise you,’ I held my hands up in affirmation. ‘I have absolutely no intention of doing anything to create rumours for the gossip columns to peddle.’

Duncan’s eyebrows flickered as if he didn’t believe me. He placed the mug back on the table. ‘It might be too late for that.’

I chewed my lip as I considered this.

He continued, ‘Trouble is, if they think we’re an item, people will just expect me to write a cheque and save the theatre. Who’s going to make donations to a project that’s clearly being bank-rolled by Thorsen Leisure?’

‘Oh.’

‘You’d be much better off if the public thought I’d taken advantage of you and dumped you.’ I raised my eyebrows at the irony of his statement. He saw it and sighed. ‘No, I didn’t, Chloe.’

‘So,’ I had to know, ‘please tell me, what was going on, last night?’

He paused. ‘Last night was…’ he pulled a face I didn’t much like, ‘…an impulse. I wasn’t thinking about the ramifications.’

The word ramifications summoned up images of copulating sheep. I nodded and frowned to erase it.

He continued. ‘And I apologise for it. I should have had more self control.’

He must be so used to kissing girls in his orbit, he’d not been able to resist kissing me too. I was just another pair of lips. I quashed my feeling of disappointment with one of contempt. Well, fine. If that’s the way the land lay, we’d move on.

‘Right,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘So, is that going to be our story? Because there was a whole posse of journalists at Bristol when I came through, and I had absolutely no idea what to do or say.’

‘Always best to smile and say nothing. They’ll make up what they want to, anyway.’ I nodded. ‘Chloe, you’re a smashing girl, and I promise you, I’d no intention of messing you about, nor will I. So, if you can overlook it, maybe we can continue as we were before. Okay with you?’

I nodded. ‘Of course.’ That was that then.

He glanced at his watch. I looked at the kitchen clock. He’d been here less than half an hour. There was a creaking from above as Mum moved in the bath. I was thankful Duncan would be leaving before she started her bath-time repertoire of musical numbers. I stood up and checked if his mug was empty. It wasn’t but he handed it to me anyway. I opened the dishwasher and heard the scrape of his chair as he stood to leave.

As I watched the remains of his coffee spilling out, it felt as if something was emptying out of me too. Whatever I thought I’d felt on the journey to Spain, at the bar in Sitges and dancing with him on Friday, had been a misguided fantasy, and I was angry with myself for even entertaining such ideas. It was a complete waste of emotional energy.

Kandy stirred from her bed by the Aga, stretched and pushed her snout into Duncan’s hand, who rubbed her ears. Fluffy leapt from the parish magazine onto the warmed cushion he had just vacated.

There was a moment’s awkward silence. There was nothing else for me to tidy away, either. Upstairs, Mum’s mellow contralto delivered the opening bars of Over the Rainbow. Duncan straightened up, his gaze drifting to the ceiling before rolling over to look at me. ‘She’s got a good voice. How come she never went back to the stage?’

‘She probably wouldn’t survive the rigours of live theatre, now. Like a wild animal kept indoors too long, she’s become domesticated.’

Duncan glanced at the two pine shelves, laden with Mum’s jars of preserves. ‘Making jam and baking cakes?’

‘Exactly. Take one, if you like.’

‘No,’ he said half-heartedly, scrutinising the labels.

‘Go on, help yourself. Mum’s always giving them away.’

He reached across and selected marrow and ginger. ‘Thanks.’ He studied the label Mum had decorated with green squiggles. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips, which he pulled back and followed with a frown. ‘Right, I’ll be off.’

I followed him into the hall, an odd kind of silence hung taut between us.

He opened the front door and stepped outside.

I stood in the doorway. ‘I see you have a new car,’ I said, by way of filling the silence.

He paused on the drive and looked back at me. ‘It’s the one I keep in Bath.’

‘Oh. Of course.’

Of course? I spoke with such authority – like I inhabited a world where one had a car for each of one’s residences.

He stepped up into the vehicle and closed the door without another word. He did, however, manage a token wave as he drove away.

Sleep. Delicious sleep. Hugged by the duvet and snug in the tranquillity of Juniper Cottage, I slept till Mum brought me a coffee at nine o’clock. She sat on the edge of my bed. ‘You’re in the papers, again.’

‘Ugh?’

‘Beth sent me a text. She’s going to bring it over, this afternoon.’

‘Great. Just what the theatre scrap-book needs. Chloe Steele shame-faced after snogging Dunc Juan.’

‘You know what they say…today’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper,’ Mum said.

I pushed myself up onto one elbow. ‘So you don’t think I’ve completely screwed the theatre’s chances of a revival?’

She shook her head. ‘They also say, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.’

‘Thanks, Mum. You’re a pal.’

‘Right, well you get yourself moving, because I need some help fixing the webbing on those dining chairs. I just need to pop into town to get some staples and a few bits and pieces.’ She moved off the bed and stopped by the doorway. ‘Oh, I had a look at that proposal of Warren’s.’

‘And?’

‘Well, it reads like a load of corporate nonsense to me but then, I’m an old cynic,’ she said, throwing up her hands and leaving me to mull over the theatre’s prospects.

Fluffy was eyeing me from the foot of the bed. I leaned over to pick her up. She was a reluctant cuddler but, now and again, she’d bestow seconds of her precious company upon me, if she thought I really needed it. Then she’d count to ten in cat terms before struggling to break free. This morning, it felt like she may have counted to fifteen.

Later, I read the report at the kitchen table. Mum was right. The proposal was full of generic corporate twaddle, which I suspected came straight off a document template. After nine pages, I reached the significant part, Recommendations. It summarised an approach where King Lloyd Holdings formed a legal partnership with the theatre, and took on responsibility for the construction work. There was a bullet point list of tasks to be agreed and the note, in red letters, ‘Pending Review of Surveyor’s Report’.

I sighed. I still hadn’t sent it off to Warren.

Kandy’s head popped up at the scrunch of car tyres on gravel, and launched into a barking frenzy as she headed into the hall. Mum had just left for the hardware store, so I pushed myself off the chair and followed Kandy to open the front door.

Warren stepped out of his car with a scowl on his face. It lifted the moment he saw me. ‘Good morning,’ he beamed then glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, afternoon.’ He was such a bloody pedant. ‘How was your trip to Spain?’

My heart sank. Mum had told him I was away till Monday. He must have seen the airport pictures in the newspaper. ‘Bog off’ was what I wanted to say, but I’m much too polite. ‘Quite useful, thanks.’

‘Great. Good to hear.’ He was on the doorstep, holding a hand forward to Kandy, whose barking had changed to delirious whimpers of recognition. If dogs were supposed to be good judges of character, then maybe I’d been too hard on him. I stepped back to allow him in.

‘Okay if I go through to the kitchen?’ he asked. In the past he would have walked straight through. Maybe he had changed. He made a beeline for the proposal, still open on the table. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘you’re reading it, then? Sort of imagined you’d be a bit too preoccupied with all the other stuff going on to get around to this.’ He gave me a megawatt smile.

‘What other stuff?’

‘You know…sensational headlines, sleazy gossip.’

I suppressed the urge to defend myself. That was the old Chloe – Warren’s girlfriend. I didn’t have to explain anything today. Instead I shrugged. ‘Oh, that stuff.’

‘Bit of a shock, I imagine. Don’t suppose you knew the cameras were there,’ he said with a note of concern.

‘Certainly didn’t.’ I turned away and picked up the kettle. ‘Can I offer you something to drink?’

‘No thanks.’ He put the proposal down and looked out of the window. ‘Wow, those tulips look fantastic. Your mum’s garden’s always been at its best in the spring.’

He’d said that before. In fact, he’d always been the kind of guy to pass compliments. Even when we were at school, long before we’d dated, I’d noticed how polite and considerate he’d been. He’d stood apart from the rest of the crowd in that way. So was it any wonder that his criticisms of my performances on stage had cut so keenly?