Heavy traffic on the M5 meant it had taken three hours to reach Bristol. Josh had spent the entire journey thinking about Sophie and wondering what he was going to say when he came face-to-face with her ex-husband.
Assuming that Theo Pargeter was her ex-husband. For all he knew, they could still be married.
Anyway, almost there. Yesterday’s planned visit had been canceled by the arrival of Bonnie, Jem, and Cal. Which had been frustrating at the time, but never mind. That was then, this was now.
Less than a kilometer to go. In the glove compartment, Josh’s phone beeped with a message. He carried on down the road, then turned left at the mini roundabout.
And there it was, the entrance to the business, looking just as it had on the website. Rather than drive in through the gates, he parked outside and climbed out of the car. Took a few deep breaths. What if Theo refused to talk to him when he learned why he was here?
Once through the gates, he saw that there was a small house to the left, the shop to the right. There were no cars in the parking area and the high fence surrounding the outdoor garden was padlocked shut.
The shop wasn’t open either. A handwritten note taped to the door announced:
Sorry, due to unforeseen circumstances we are closed today. Open again as usual tomorrow. Apologies for any inconvenience caused. T. P.
Inconvenience? Any inconvenience caused? Why ever would he think he might be causing any inconvenience?
Shit.
Just to be sure, Josh crossed the deserted parking area to the house and rang the doorbell. No reply.
If he’d come yesterday, Theo Pargeter would have been here. But he hadn’t; he’d come today instead.
Oh well, nothing to be done about it. Hopefully the M5 would be clearer on the way home.
Back in the car, his phone beeped plaintively again like an abandoned baby bird. Josh leaned across, took it out of the glove compartment, and saw that Cal had sent him an email. There was a photo attached. He opened it and stared at the screen. For some utterly bizarre reason, Cal had chosen to send him a photo of himself on the beach with an arm draped casually around the shoulders of a short, plump teenager whose pink, beaming face exactly matched her too-tight T-shirt.
Cal had written: See? And she wasn’t even pretty!
Josh shook his head. God only knew what he meant by that. He’d better not have slept with her and be boasting about it.
Not that Cal’s behavior was his concern anymore. Go Destry might have given him forty-eight hours to come to a decision, but he had no intention of taking them back. Putting the band out of his mind, he switched from emails to the calendar app on his phone. So many meetings, so much on; who knew when he’d be able to get up here to Bristol again?
***
Well, this was turning into a pretty weird evening. When Tula had finished her shift, she hadn’t expected to be propositioned by Marguerite Marshall and brought here to Moor Court.
“I asked Dot. She says you’re a hard worker, good with people, conscientious.”
“Yes.” Tula nodded cautiously; was she about to be headhunted? And just how much of a nerve did Marguerite have, asking Dot to recommend someone before attempting to steal her away from the hotel?
“Not full-time,” said Marguerite, answering that unspoken question. “As and when. If people are coming here for meetings, small parties, whatever. I need someone to take their coats, organize the drinks, pass around canapés, that kind of thing. And be charming to the guests, of course. Good impressions are so important. Dot tells me your shifts are pretty flexible, so do you think you’d be interested? Because if you aren’t, I’ll ask someone else. Twelve pounds an hour,” she added.
“Brilliant. Definitely interested.” Tula nodded vigorously. “Extra money’s always good. I’d love to do it.”
“Excellent.” Marguerite gave a nod of satisfaction and said, “Now, let’s have a drink to celebrate.”
That had been over an hour ago, and she was still here. Marguerite had been asking all sorts of questions about her life, from upbringing to school days, from the different jobs she’d done to the various boyfriends she’d won and lost over the years.
“Can I ask you something?” said Tula. “Am I being interrogated?”
Marguerite smiled slightly. “Sorry, is that what I’m doing? We writers are nosy people. We like to know everything.”
Tula brightened. “Are you going to put me in a book?”
“I very much doubt it. You’re not interesting enough.”
“Thanks.”
“Just being honest. The female characters I write about are strong. They always get exactly what they want.”
“I’ve just got what I wanted.” Tula grinned. “Another job.”
“Touché.” Amused, Marguerite topped up their glasses. “Come on then, tell me some more about you.”
***
Over the limit herself, Marguerite had called Riley and asked him to drive Tula back to the hotel. When he returned, she said, “That was quick.”
“Dropped her off, drove straight back.” Riley shrugged. “Doesn’t take long.”
“I thought you might have spun it out a bit, laid on the charm. Like you usually do.”
“I’ve tried. It didn’t work. You know that.”
He’d told her, but he still hadn’t told her why. Marguerite watched him examine a fraying hole in the sleeve of his favorite faded blue sweatshirt. “I like her very much; she’s a lovely girl. I’m sure you could win her over, you know.” Encouragingly she added, “And we’ll be seeing more of her now she’s going to be helping me out here.”
There was a troubled look in his eyes. “So it’s all part of your grand plan, is it? Maybe you could go one step further and pay her to be my girlfriend.”
“Oh, darling, I’m just trying to help.” The nicer Tula had turned out to be, the guiltier Marguerite had felt. Riley was normally so sunny-natured; she’d never seen him like this before.
“Well, you can’t help.” He shrugged. “It isn’t going to happen.”
“And it’s all my fault.”
“What?” His gaze narrowed.
“I know why she won’t take you seriously. I asked her and she told me.”
“Oh. Right.” He exhaled. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, though.” She couldn’t bear to see him hiding his feelings. “I can see what it’s doing to you, how important this girl is.”
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m me. I’ll find someone else.”
Bravado. Did he think she was stupid? Marguerite took a deep breath and said, “If you want, you can tell her.”
Riley froze for a moment. Then he slowly shook his head. “No. We can’t do that.”
“But if she matters that much to you…”
“Tula can’t keep secrets. She told me so herself. She said she hates it, it’s too stressful, and sooner or later things end up accidentally slipping out.”
“Oh,” said Marguerite.
“But thanks for offering.” He gave her a crooked smile.
“Oh, darling. I do love you. So much.”
“I know. I love you too. Don’t worry about it.” As he headed for the office to start work, he added, “Really, I’ll be fine.”
Marguerite watched him go with a heavy, guilty heart. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might even have believed him.