Chloe's Rescue Mission (14 page)

‘I’ll tell her you said so.’

He turned back. ‘Right then, what did you think to our proposal?’

‘I think I probably need to read it again. And Mum needs to take a look at it, too,’ I lied, buying time.

‘Of course. By the way, do you have the surveyor’s report?’

‘Err…no.’ I was lying again. ‘I need to get a copy printed for you.’

‘Don’t you have an electronic copy?’

I did. I hesitated.

‘Email it to me. Save you the expense of printing.’ Mr Helpful, as ever.

‘Good idea.’

‘D’you fancy popping out for some lunch? I could really murder one of The Plough’s lasagnes.’

‘No, thanks. I’ve promised Mum I’ll help her with some DIY. She’s just gone to buy some stuff.’

‘Good old Jennifer. What’s she renovating, this time?’

‘Chairs.’

He chuckled, and I remembered why I’d fallen for him. There was an awkward silence.

Just as I was dreading how long he might loiter, he pushed himself off the table and converted his winning smile to one of resignation. ‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you must be tired after your trip.’

‘Exhausted.’

‘I thought you weren’t due back till tomorrow?’

‘No. Well, things changed.’

He gave me a speculative look, and I could imagine how his brain might be whirring over the possibilities. I said nothing but silently pleaded, Don’t mention Duncan. He walked through to the hall. As he opened the door, he turned. ‘I think what you’re taking on with the theatre is brilliant.’ He put a hand out and briefly stroked the top of my arm. ‘Good on you!’ There was enough compassion in his voice to soften my thoughts. He might not be my boyfriend anymore, but there was still that indefinable chemistry; a recognition of shared experience.

‘Thanks. But you know, we really didn’t have a choice. It’s Grandee’s legacy.’

‘Of course,’ he said, softly, and studied me for a moment. I could imagine how we might have once kissed. Might even do so now. It was like muscle memory – given the right triggers we would easily repeat the old pattern automatically. ‘Just be careful with Thorsen. He could really hurt you…and the theatre.’

I stepped back. ‘I’ll be okay. The papers exploit these things because they’ve got column inches to fill.’

He shrugged. ‘Don’t let him do a number on you. You’re worth so much more than that.’

I smiled. ‘Thanks.’

When Beth came over, that afternoon, I was forced to field a barrage of ‘I told you sos’ and ‘I just knew its’. Batting each one away with an ‘It’s not like that’, she finally gave up with a shrug followed by a knowing wink.

We studied the newspaper cuttings and the gossip sites.

‘The lens can be really mean to the unprepared,’ she said.

‘I look bloody haggard don’t I?’

‘Tired, babe, and a bit anxious, maybe.’

‘Do people really want to read this stuff?’

‘I guess. Listen to this, “Duncan Thorsen’s latest eye-candy, Chloe Steele, returns from their weekend in Spain.”’

‘Eye candy?!’ I yelped. I’d never been called that before. Mind you, if strapped to a lie-detector, I’d have confessed to being more than a bit flattered.

She continued reading, ‘“Chloe Steele, granddaughter of Joshua Steele, appeared on
Wake-Up!
in a plea to find financial help for her grandfather’s bankrupt theatre. Seems she may have hit the jackpot with this sugar daddy.” Wow, they don’t pull their punches, do they?’

I didn’t imagine ‘sugar daddy’ was an epithet Duncan would welcome, and I certainly didn’t like the implication – even if it was bordering on the truth.

‘If people believe this stuff, Beth, it could create even more problems for the theatre.’

‘You think? You mean you’d be happier if the focus wasn’t on your relationship with Duncan?’

‘There is no relationship with Duncan!’

‘Okay, okay. Just a sneaky snog behind the bike sheds, I get it.’ She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and dropped her voice. ‘Was it worth it?’

‘No!’

She was incapable of suppressing a disbelieving grin. ‘Lousy kisser?’

I sighed.

‘Come on, Chloe. Throw me a few crumbs, here. My social life revolves around toddler teas and Tumble Tots. At least let me imagine there’s another life out there to look forward to. Was he a good kisser or not?’

I couldn’t come up with an answer.

She leaned towards me. ‘Too good to put into words, huh? So good, you’re feeling horribly guilty because, secretly, you loved it, didn’t you?’

I dropped my head into my hands.

The ‘I knew its’ were back.

Finally, I lifted my head and looked her in the eye. ‘Okay. You wanna know? It was very good. Seriously hot and, under the circumstances, totally inappropriate.’

She looked triumphant.

‘Beth, please, this is so not the time for me to be doing anything like that. I deeply regret what happened, last night, because if it jeopardises the theatre project then the whole trip was a complete waste of time. In fact, the project could be over before it’s begun.’

‘What if it hadn’t made it into the papers – would you be quite so bothered?’

‘Yes! Yes, I would. Because we’re both agreed, we shouldn’t have done it.’

‘All the same, you
did
do it. You’re just miffed you got found out.’

‘No. As soon as it happened, he stopped it. I stopped it. We stopped it. The journalists getting hold of it has just turned a simple mistake into a complete disaster.’

‘Not entirely. It’s evident he likes you. Unless he’s some weird, serial kisser, which is so not likely. Why don’t you just go for it?’

I jumped up. ‘Because I don’t want the complications! Let me carry on dealing with the theatre project – lord knows that’s going to be tricky enough – and when it’s sorted, then I’ll address the rest of my life. Until then, let’s drop the subject and get back down to business.’

Beth fastened her lips between her teeth and nodded. She knew better than to press me any further.

I walked away and shut myself in the loo, to think.

I had to get things back on track, and I knew a very good way to do that.

Just as soon as dinner was over, I would send the surveyor’s report, in an email, to King Lloyd Holdings.

Thorsen Leisure would not be the only company in the frame.

On Wednesday, I was back at Thorsen Leisure’s offices and being led, by Marlean, into the company’s boardroom to be introduced to Rusty Gayle, a tall black woman, with hair neatly trained in cornrows and a smile that lit up the room. I judged her to be in her late thirties. Her responsibility was overseeing marketing on all new projects at Thorsen Leisure. Next to her was Hugo Hart, a short, tidy-looking but very beige man in his forties. He was from the Estates Department.

For nearly an hour, we discussed all aspects of the project. I tried to measure their interest by the position of Hugo’s eyebrows, which were very expressive. Rusty, on the other hand, smiled generously at most of my suggestions.

My proposal to hold fund-raising shows elicited a weak smile from both of them and a quiver of Hugo’s brows. ‘And maybe we could make more use of the theatre’s bar – serve teas, coffees and snacks throughout the day.’ The eyebrows twitched again.

As we broke for lunch, I felt supercharged with energy. They were taking me seriously and we were making progress. The prospect of saving the theatre was finally tangible.

A young girl brought in a trolley laden with an impressive buffet. As I watched her arranging the food at the end of the table, the familiar figure of Duncan appeared in the doorway.

I’d wondered whether he would be joining us, and now the sight of him, in his open-necked shirt and navy chinos, made my pulse kick and my spine tingle. No amount of reasoning with myself that this guy was wrong for me seemed to have any bearing on the visceral effect. I frowned. Maybe, if he were more accessible, I might not be so keen.

‘Hi!’ I said brightly and stood to shake hands with him. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘Chloe,’ he responded, shaking my hand and crinkling his eyes into a smile.

What, I wondered, would the other two make of this formal greeting, bearing in mind there was evidence of our massive snog-fest all over the papers. Probably par for the course in their eyes.

‘How’ve you been getting on?’ he asked.

‘Great! I think.’ I turned to the other two for confirmation.

Hugo, with a sandwich approaching his mouth, sat forward and glanced at the papers in front of him. ‘There are a few concerns here, regarding the building works, but nothing that money can’t resolve. We just have to raise sufficient funds.’

Duncan nodded. ‘Good. Well, if Chloe’s initiative and drive is anything to go by, you won’t be without motivation.’

I glowed at this verbal pat on the back. He moved past me to the table and helped himself to a chicken satay, before continuing. ‘I had Ross Arlington on the phone about the Business Angel programme. I’m not sure pulling this project into the series is a good idea. What do you think, Rusty?’

My heart dipped. What did he have against it?

Rusty sat back in her chair and raised her chin as she considered her answer. ‘I agree. This is wholly different from the others. For a start, it’s already been associated with Thorsen Leisure, while the other companies are relatively anonymous. No, this doesn’t fit.’

So, that was it then. The Joshua Steele Theatre wouldn’t be getting further publicity through the TV series. And I would have fewer reasons to see Duncan, which was probably for the best. Although…I leaned forward. ‘Surely, what this project needs, is a dedicated documentary.’

Had I really said that?

Duncan looked at me, his eyebrows raised slightly.

‘Is it possible?’ I asked, my voice fading under his scrutiny.

He swallowed the piece of chicken he was chewing and waved the satay stick. ‘It’s possible. In fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking.’

‘You were?’

‘Why not? It’s the kind of reality TV the public loves. Let’s face it, the building work is only the beginning. You need to make sure of continuing business, and the only way to do that, is raise the theatre’s profile and make it a desirable venue. Put it on the map, so to speak. We can put it out on the DJL channel and even put it out over the Internet in short daily episodes. We’ll get our social networking guru onto it.’

‘Great idea,’ said Rusty, standing up to help herself to some lunch.

Duncan looked carefully at me. ‘You realise, your life won’t be your own if it goes ahead. Not for a while anyway.’

Did I care? ‘I’d already resigned myself to dedicating the next year or so to the project. If it shortens the time it takes to get the theatre back on its feet, then it’s fine by me.’

He nodded. ‘Good. Leave it with me, then.’

After a brief lunch, he left and we spent another hour defining our action plan, before Marlean popped her head round the door to reclaim the room for another meeting. ‘And Chloe,’ she added, ‘if you could just come with me, I need to give you your contract.’

I followed her to her office, where she picked up a document from an immaculately neat desk. ‘This outlines the terms and conditions of your association with Thorsen Leisure. If you want to read it now, why don’t you make yourself comfortable in reception?’

‘Of course. Thank you.’ I took the thin sheaf of paper downstairs, glancing at the cover sheet, showing the Thorsen Leisure logo and my name. I settled into one of the armchairs, opened the first page and began reading. The terms all made sense, but I was astonished at the figure I was to be paid. The salary was on a par with the leaving salary from my last job. There had to be a mistake. I re-read the document from cover to cover, just to be sure.

‘Everything okay?’ Duncan’s deep voice jolted my from the small print. I looked up. He was obviously heading off out.

‘Yes, I think so. I’d like to talk to you about this, though.’

‘Sure. Are you going to the station? I can give you a lift.’

‘Lovely.’ I pushed the document into my folder and stood up.

‘Okay, fire away,’ he said, as soon as we were settled into the back of his chauffeur-driven car.

I swallowed. ‘Everything’s fine and I don’t want to seem ungrateful but…’ Duncan’s frown was starting to worry me. ‘It’s just…well…I didn’t expect to be paid so much.’

‘You want me to reduce it?’ His voice was stern but the eyebrows were lifting. ‘This must be a first! Nobody’s ever told me I’m paying them too much, before.’

Of course they hadn’t. I should have kept my trap shut.

He looked grumpy. ‘Listen. It’s a fair rate for the kind of job you’re going to be doing. It’ll be tough. This is much more than a family hobby you’ve got yourself into.’ I bristled as he continued. ‘If you really want to make a success of it, you’re going to have to work bloody hard. And if I’m investing my own cash, I’ve got good reason to make sure the job’s done properly.’

I gasped. ‘Are you in any doubt that I would do it properly? It’s my family’s project, after all.’ How soon till he asked me to call it the Duncan Thorsen Theatre?

‘Of course not. But I want you to see it through. And paying you a good salary will, I hope, ensure that.’

‘Duncan, I’d have seen it through if you didn’t pay me at all.’

He tutted. ‘Next you’ll be telling me I’ve offended you by even paying you a salary!’ His words were clipped and his accent had become more Scottish.

‘Of course not. But – you seem to be suggesting I don’t have the tenacity to see it through without some financial reward.’

Duncan’s jaw clenched. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

I chewed on my lip and finally said. ‘And it’s not a family hobby. We may not be international business moguls but work in the theatre is very important to us.’

‘Look, without a decent salary, you’ll find it difficult to function properly. You don’t need the extra anxiety about whether or not you can cover household expenses. Nor do you want the worry of repaying a whole bunch of personal debts when the project’s finished, do you?’

I shook my head. ‘No, but…’

‘And remember, Thorsen Leisure intends to consult you, from time-to-time, as well. Consider it payment for consultancy. Would that be acceptable?’

The universe wasn’t just handing me a benefactor for the theatre, it was making sure I remained solvent. Who was I to argue with the universe?

‘When you put it that way, yes.’

He nodded. ‘Okay. That’s sorted then.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘Good.’ He flipped open his phone. ‘Excuse me, I have a call to make.’

Mercifully, his conversation lasted until the car slowed down outside Paddington Station. He held the phone away whilst he said goodbye, and I made my escape.

I arrived home in the early evening. Mum was at choir practice. I threw myself onto the sofa and groaned. Kandy dropped at my feet and groaned in sympathy. What had possessed me? Okay, so Duncan had made some thoughtless comments but jack it all, he’d done more than put his hand in his pocket for the theatre, he’d involved his staff and was even organising a documentary to be made. How could I have over-reacted so badly? It would serve me right if he pulled out of the whole thing.

I groaned again.

Mind you, the family hobby comment was punching below the belt and totally disrespectful. Was this the true Duncan?

What was the alternative? Warren’s offer was still at the proposal stage, and there needed to be some legal discussion to define the contract between King Lloyd and the theatre. Maybe when I had that, I could turn my back on Duncan and his precious money, for good. There were enough complications in my life without adding the Duncan connection…or the Warren one, for that matter.

‘Oh bloody, sodding, bummoxing hell!’ I threw my head back and stared at the dusty lampshade.

There was a muffled ringing from within my handbag. I stared at it for a long moment and finally pulled the phone out of it. ‘Hi Beth,’ I said – conscious I was about to be subjected to her rapid-fire cross-questioning.

‘Well, how did it go?’

‘Good, I suppose.’

‘Oooh. I know that tone of voice. What went wrong?’

‘Well…’

‘Is it the gorgeous Duncan?’

I rolled my eyes and summarised my day, finally closing with the conversation in the car.

Beth, not having been able to get a word in sideways for the last few minutes, finally said, ‘Is that it?’

I stared at the phone. ‘Beth – you’ve heard the saying “don’t bite the hand that feeds you”. Well Duncan’s going home tonight with an impression of my teeth across his palm.’

‘No, no, no! You’ve done exactly what Grandee would have done. You’ve established a principle. Nothing wrong with that. Duncan knows where he stands, and if he drops the project because of it – he’s a jerk, move on.’

‘But Beth, how ungrateful was I? We can’t afford for him to drop us.’

‘Chloe, this is business. It’s about finding the right people to work with. Do you really want to get tied into a business relationship with someone who doesn’t see it from your point of view?’

I nibbled the edge of my thumbnail. My sister might be outrageous and devil-may-care but she had a surprisingly sound head on her shoulders. Finally I said, ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. Why couldn’t I see it that way?’

‘Because you let emotion get in the way.’ I didn’t answer, which was enough of a confession for Beth. ‘I rest my case.’

‘Should I phone him and apologise?’

‘What? For defending the family honour? Just sign the contract!’

‘But is it the right thing to do?’

‘Chloe, he’s offering you a salary for a year, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And contacts, a TV documentary, the support of his mighty empire, right?’

‘Yes but then there’s this offer from Warren’s company.’

Beth harrumphed. ‘Has he actually put an offer on the table?’

‘Kind of…Mum and I have read the proposal.’

‘And?’

‘I don’t know. It looks complicated. But it would mean all the building work is taken care of.’

‘Great! You’ll have two in the bush…so to speak.’

I laughed.

‘So go ahead and sign the contract. What have you got to lose?’

‘Right. I will.’

‘And if you want my opinion, when the theatre’s back on its feet, you can rekindle all that passion you both discovered in Barcelona.’

‘Beth! That is so not going to happen.’

‘Why ever not? I think you’re mad. He’s already shown he has the hots for you and vice-versa. Now you’ve both cooled it, there’s bound to be a massive frisson of sexual tension between you. Jeez, it’ll be like make-up sex on speed!’

‘I don’t need that kind of excitement.’ I said, wearily.

She let out a cry of frustration. ‘Well I bloody do, even if I have to get it vicariously through you.’

‘Beth, I’ll sign the contract – but that’s all.’

‘Whatever!’