Jessica Hart
Promoted: to Wife and Mother

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

PERDITA drummed her fingers on the sleeves of her jacket and tried not to look as if she were sulking. What a waste of time this so-called leadership development course was turning out to be! So far all she had done was spend hours filling out a questionnaire in the expectation that she would turn out to be a dolphin—warm, friendly, expressive—only to be informed that in spite of answering every question in a carefully dolphinesque way, she was in fact an attention-seeking peacock.

A peacock!

And, just to add to her humiliation, it appeared that she was the only peacock. Everybody else got to be a jolly, sociable dolphin or a nit-picking owl—not that Perdita would have wanted to be one of them—while she was left in the corner on her own.

She had known this course was a mistake. Not wanting to look as if she were envying the dolphins, who were all bonding madly and agreeing with each other in the corner, Perdita inspected her nail polish for chips instead, and was momentarily distracted in admiration of the colour.

Vixen, it was called. Now that was what she called a colour to be reckoned with. But the deep red might have been a give-away, she realised belatedly. The female dolphins probably stuck to a non-threatening pale pink and, as for the owls, they would be too busy checking their spreadsheets to even think about painting their nails.

Perdita sighed, tucked her hands away and started tapping a foot instead.

‘It looks like we’re the only two on our own. Do you think that means we belong together?’

Turning sharply, Perdita found herself looking into a pair of amused grey eyes, and she was conscious of a tiny jolt of recognition. It was the man who had arrived late the night before.

He had missed dinner and the introductory briefing, but she had noticed him later in the bar, although for the life of her Perdita hadn’t been able to work out why. It wasn’t as if he were particularly striking or different in any way. He was just a man—not particularly tall, not particularly handsome, not particularly anything.

Perdita couldn’t understand why she had noticed him at all.

She had been in the centre of a group who were definitely having the best fun, but he hadn’t made any attempt to come over and join them. Instead he had talked for a while with a quiet group of people—owls, probably—before disappearing and leaving Perdita feeling unaccountably piqued at his lack of interest.

But now here he was.

She studied him with interest. Up close, he was a lot less ordinary than he had appeared across the bar. The grey eyes were very keen, and creased with a fan of laughter lines, she couldn’t help noticing. She was always a sucker for those. The hint of humour made an intriguing contrast with his austere features and that firm, not to say stern, mouth.

Hmm. Not gorgeous, not even that attractive, taken bit by bit, Perdita decided, but she was uneasily aware that her hormones, which had been in hibernation since Nick had broken her heart, were definitely stirring.

Unaccountably ruffled by her reaction to him, Perdita put up her chin. ‘You don’t belong with me unless you’re a peacock,’ she told him and her bright brown gaze skimmed over his grey jumper and black trousers. ‘And I have to say that you don’t look like one to me!’

The corner of his mouth twitched in acknowledgement of his apparent lack of flair. ‘No, I’m not a peacock. Apparently I’m a panther,’ he said. His face was completely straight, but the grey eyes gleamed in a way that made Perdita feel quite…funny…

‘Really?’ she said, wondering if he were joking. According to the bumph they had been handed that morning, panthers were typical alpha males: forceful, decisive, ambitious and more than a little ruthless, and Perdita hadn’t been at all happy to discover that she was not just an attention-seeking peacock, but she also had a strong panther ascendant. Talk about an unappealing combination!

‘I wouldn’t have put you down as a panther,’ she told him honestly.

Although, on second thoughts, there was something about his mouth that made her think he probably wasn’t someone to mess with.

‘That’ll be my strong owl ascendant confusing you,’ he said and Perdita laughed.

‘Ah, so when you’re not prowling around dominating everyone, you’re poring over your spreadsheets and double-checking your calculations?’

‘While you peacocks hold court in the bar,’ he agreed suavely.

Perdita looked at him sharply, but it was impossible to tell whether he had noticed her last night after all, or was simply picking an easy example of what peacocks might do.

‘I wanted to be a dolphin,’ she confessed, just trace of sullenness in her voice, and he raised an eyebrow.

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ she echoed incredulously. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Everybody loves dolphins. I don’t see why I’m not one, in fact,’ she grumbled. ‘I filled out the form really carefully. I was sure I’d be a dolphin. I mean, I’m friendly, aren’t I? I can do all that team stuff they’re supposed to be so good at.’

‘Dolphins are very patient and relaxed,’ he pointed out, and Perdita bridled.

‘I’m relaxed! I’m more relaxed than anyone! And I can be patient.’

In reply, he looked down to her pointy suede boots. One was tapping the floor and, as Perdita followed his gaze, she stopped it abruptly and jerked her foot back.

‘I’m just bored,’ she told him crossly. ‘I’ve had enough of standing here on my own while those owls and dolphins sit around bonding and congratulating each other on being good team members!’

She eyed the group of dolphins in the far corner sourly. ‘Look at them, all eek-eeking to each other! Any minute now they’ll be balancing balls on their nose and clapping their flippers.’

Her companion laughed. ‘You are definitely not a dolphin,’ he told her. ‘If ever I saw a peacock, it’s you!’

Perdita scowled. ‘And you would know so much about this because…?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘I’m observant.’

A smile hovered around his mouth as he studied Perdita, her slender figure quivering with annoyance. Even if she hadn’t been banished to a corner on her own, she would have stood out in the room—in any room, he decided.

Although not strictly pretty, she was immaculately groomed, but it wasn’t her looks that drew the eye. Instead, there was a vibrancy about her, a forcefulness of personality that was evident in the generous mouth, the lively planes of her face and the dark, sharp eyes, in the quick gestures and the way she threw back her head and laughed.

‘I saw you in the bar last night,’ he told her. ‘You had the biggest group around you and you were making them all laugh. And this morning, at breakfast, no one was really talking until you came in and sat down. You were the one who broke the ice when they were handing out the questionnaires.’

‘There you are,’ said Perdita, not quite sure whether to be pleased that he had noticed her after all or put out at the faint undercurrent of laughter in his voice that suggested he found her somehow amusing. ‘That proves I’m a dolphin, surely? I was being fun and friendly…those are dolphin characteristics,’ she pointed out.

‘Yes, but a dolphin just likes to play along with everyone else. That’s why they’re all getting on over there,’ he said, following her gaze to the group in the corner, who did indeed seem to be having a much better time than the owls at the other end of the room. ‘But, if you were in that group, you wouldn’t just sit there being like everyone else. You’d be dominating it completely, and the group dynamics would be quite different.’

‘I would not dominate it!’ Perdita’s dark eyes sparkled with temper.

‘Oh, yes, you would,’ he said coolly. ‘They would all be laughing and having fun, but you would be the one making it happen, and making sure that they were all looking at you.’

Perdita eyed him with dislike. She didn’t want to admit that there was a certain familiarity about the scenario he had just described. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling to think that a perfect stranger could see through her quite so easily.

‘How come you know so much about it, anyway?’ she demanded.

He shrugged. ‘I’m interested in people.’

‘That’s not very panther of you,’ she said waspishly, and he grinned, a surprising smile that made him look suddenly younger.

‘All right, I’m interested in getting the most out of the people who work for me,’ he conceded.

‘That sounds more like it,’ sniffed Perdita, who was still feeling oddly jolted by the suddenness of his smile. It had really been quite startling to see how completely it transformed him, and then was gone again. ‘You seem very well-informed,’ she added with just a trace of sarcasm. ‘Have you been on courses like this before?’

‘A few,’ he said carelessly. ‘What about you?’

‘No, this is my first.’

‘You surprise me. Most firms take management training seriously these days.’

‘My ex-boss didn’t think they were worth spending any money on. There was talk about an assertiveness course a couple of years ago, but my colleagues threatened to strike if I was allowed to go on it. The feeling was that if I were any more assertive than I already was I would be unbearable. All nonsense, of course,’ said Perdita, who had told this as a story against herself often enough now to be able to treat it as a joke just as everyone else did.

Almost.

The man didn’t laugh. ‘You might have found it useful,’ he said.

‘I doubt it,’ she said airily. ‘I’ve got no time for these courses, to be honest. I think they’re all a waste of time. I’ve got far too much to do to be messing around with all this nonsense about peacocks and panthers. What’s the point of it all?’

She hadn’t really meant it as more than a rhetorical question, but the man replied anyway.

‘It’s about leadership, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘The idea is that you can lead a team more effectively if you’re aware of the different personality types and can recognise the different strengths each individual can bring to a particular task. An effective leader is one who is able to create an environment in which everyone can contribute to the best of their ability. It’s not about one type being better than another. Ideally you need a range of personality types on your team—but only if you can identify the strengths and weaknesses of each, and get everyone working together rather than at cross-purposes.’

‘You’re obviously a convert,’ said Perdita, her wide mouth turning down dismissively.

‘And you’re not?’

‘I don’t think that discovering that I’m a peacock or whatever is going to make any difference to the way I work, certainly,’ she told him. ‘I do my job, and I do it well. I tell my staff what to do and they do it. How much more leadership do they need?’

‘And then you wonder why you’re not a dolphin,’ he murmured. ‘Is it possible that you have a panther ascendant instead?’

How had he guessed that? Perdita gave him a hostile look. She didn’t have to admit anything. ‘It’s all rubbish, anyway,’ she grumbled, avoiding a direct answer, but there was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he might have a pretty good idea about what it would have been in any case.

‘Then what are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got no choice,’ she said. ‘The board have just appointed a new chief executive, some pretentious City hot shot who wants to impress us all with his forward thinking.’ Perdita snorted. ‘I think it’s all a lot of nonsense. The famous Edward Merrick hasn’t bothered to come and meet the workforce yet, but he’s already decided that all his executives will benefit from three days messing around in the Lake District.’

‘You don’t sound very impressed by him.’

‘Oh, I dare say he knows his stuff,’ Perdita acknowledged. ‘He’s got a great track record in turning companies around,’ she admitted grudgingly.

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘I just think he should find out what’s happening on the ground before he starts swanning in and changing everything. OK, so the old chief executive lost his grip in the end, but the company is strong in lots of ways and frankly I’ve got better things to do than pander to a lot of fads about leadership.’

She pushed her hair behind her ears in an unconscious gesture of frustration. ‘Quite apart from anything else,’ she told him, ‘it’s really inconvenient timing—not that there’s ever a time when we aren’t busy in Operations. I keep thinking of all the work piling up when I’m away. I spent half the night catching up with emails as it is.’

Perhaps ‘half the night’ was a bit of an exaggeration, Perdita admitted to herself, but she had had to plug in her laptop and get on with some work. She couldn’t afford to treat these few days away like a total jolly, whatever some people—unspecified, she added mentally with a dark look at her companion—might think about her propensity for propping up the bar. She was a professional, after all, and it was obviously time to make sure that he knew it.

‘I’m Perdita, by the way,’ she said, offering her hand. ‘Perdita James. I’m Operations Manager for Bell Browning Engineering.’

He took her hand and smiled at her. ‘Ed Merrick,’ he said.

For a moment she was too taken up with the feel of his fingers wrapped firmly around hers to take in what he had said, but when the name finally registered Perdita’s carefully professional smile froze.

‘Ed?’ she echoed in a hollow voice, carefully withdrawing her hand. ‘Er…would that be Ed as in Edward, by any chance?’

‘Ed as in pretentious City hot-shot,’ he agreed equably.

Excellent. Perdita stifled a sigh. How to get off on completely the wrong foot with your new boss in one easy lesson by Perdita ‘Big Mouth’ James.

Her heart sank as she considered her options. She could fall back on the tried and tested technique of joking her way out of trouble, or she could make a grovelling apology.

Glancing at him, she was relieved to glimpse a glint of what she hoped was amusement in the grey eyes. Thank goodness he appeared to have a sense of humour! Grovelling wasn’t really her style, anyway.

So she leant forward confidingly. ‘I always think that if you’re going to have a good relationship, it’s best to start with an insult and then things can only get better,’ she said straight-faced.

‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it,’ said Edward Merrick, his look of amusement deepening. ‘I heard that you were famous for straight-talking,’ he went on, ‘but I hadn’t expected a practical demonstration quite so soon, I must admit!’

‘You mean you knew who I was all along?’ Perdita demanded, stiffening.

‘I’ve seen your CV,’ he said, ‘complete with a photograph that doesn’t do you justice at all.’

‘You should have told me who you were!’ Embarrassed at having been caught in unprofessional behaviour, Perdita characteristically went on the offensive. She was very glad that she hadn’t grovelled now! ‘I had no idea that you were going to be here. We thought there would just be the six of us.’

She looked over to where her colleagues were busy being owls, except for the head of Human Resources, who was a dolphin, of course. Had any of them realised that their new boss was among them? Surely one of them would have said if they had? She would have to warn them all off when they broke for coffee.

‘We were told that you wouldn’t be able to come,’ she added severely, glancing back at Edward Merrick, as if her indiscretion in describing her new boss to a perfect stranger was somehow his fault.

‘I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it,’ he said. ‘Things were getting very complicated on the home front, but there was a last minute change of plans so I booked myself in at the last minute.’

‘Without telling us?’

‘I imagine you were all on your way here before I decided,’ he said by way of an apology. ‘I just got in the car and drove up from London. It meant that I missed the original briefing and had no chance to introduce myself to you all over dinner. I was hoping to get a chance to do that this morning, but there hasn’t been any free time yet.’

‘And that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as letting us all make complete fools of ourselves first,’ said Perdita bitterly.

‘I haven’t met any of the others yet,’ said Ed. ‘For the record, I would have preferred to have met you all on your home ground, but this course comes highly recommended, and it doesn’t run again until the autumn, so I wanted to get everyone on it now if possible. And, when I thought about it, it seemed like a good opportunity for us to get to know each other before I move to Ellsborough permanently. That’s why it was worth my while to drive all the way up from London at the last minute.’

‘Oh, and I’m so glad you did!’ Perdita didn’t bother to disguise her sarcasm. ‘It’s just what I wanted, a chance to humiliate myself completely in front of my new boss!’

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘I’d have known what you thought anyway,’ he pointed out. ‘You peacocks aren’t very good at disguising your feelings.’

‘Still, it was rude.’ Gritting her teeth, Perdita made herself apologise. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about you being pretentious.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You don’t get to be a panther without developing a very tough skin! Ah, good,’ he interrupted himself as there was a general movement at the other end of the room. ‘It looks as if something is happening now…’

Sure enough, the course facilitators were beginning to divide everybody up into groups and Perdita found herself separated from Edward Merrick.

Just as well, she thought, torn between relief and chagrin. She couldn’t believe what a mess she had made of her first meeting with him! It wasn’t that she had ever had any intention of grovelling to him, but it irked her that she had been betrayed into those careless remarks. Perdita had always prided herself on her professionalism and she was mortified at the idea of not appearing at her best.

Of course, Ed Merrick would probably say that was the peacock in her. What a lot of rubbish that was!

Determined to prove him wrong about her, Perdita resolved to sit quietly in her group and let everyone else do the talking this time. If Ed cared to glance her way, he would see that she wasn’t showing off, but blending in perfectly with all the owls and dolphins.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t taken into account just how uncomfortable it was for her to sit in silence. Everyone in the group had been given a few strips of paper each and there was an awkward pause as it became clear that they were going to have to work out the task themselves.

OK, she could do this, Perdita told herself, shifting uneasily. She would show Edward Merrick. She wouldn’t be the first to speak. She would let someone else take the lead.

But the silence was so oppressive that she couldn’t resist murmuring an aside about the facilitator to her neighbour, who started to laugh, and before she knew quite how it happened the rest were joining in an animated conversation. They had to be reminded of their task by the facilitator and, forgetting that she was supposed to be taking a back seat, Perdita was the first to lean forward with a suggestion.

After that, the ideas started coming thick and fast. ‘Wait, wait, wait!’ she cried, waving her hands around. ‘Slow down, people! We need to keep track of all this. Andy, why don’t you be chair?’

They were discussing the best way to proceed when Perdita happened to glance across at the neighbouring group, which just happened to include Ed Merrick, who just happened to look up at the same time. The cool grey gaze encompassed the animated group around Perdita and he smiled knowingly as his eyes met hers, and she flushed, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

What was it he had said? If you were in that group…you’d be dominating it completely…making sure that they were all looking at you.

Tilting her chin, she jerked her gaze crossly away. She had just wanted to get things happening or they would be here until teatime. Huffily, she tried to concentrate on the task in hand, but it wasn’t that challenging and, in spite of herself, her eyes kept wandering back to Ed’s group.

A panther like him was a fine one to talk about dominating! It was easy to see who was leading that group, although Perdita struggled to work out exactly how he was doing it. He wasn’t showing off or being loud or forceful or saying very much at all, in fact, but there was no question that Ed was the centre of his group quite as much as she was of hers.

It puzzled Perdita. She was very conscious of her own stylish outfit, painted nails and lipstick. The other women had gone for a much more casual look, but Perdita didn’t do casual—never had and never would. So perhaps it was inevitable that she should stand out within her group, but Ed had no such excuse. He was just sitting there, wearing that dull grey top with the sleeves carelessly pushed up his forearms. He wasn’t taller or better-dressed or better-looking than the others, but there was just something about him that made him stand out.

Studying him surreptitiously, Perdita could see the way the others in his group were deferring to him, but it didn’t make sense. If he were really the panther he claimed to be, shouldn’t he be riding roughshod over them all? Instead he seemed to be dominating the group by not doing very much at all.

The more she watched him over the day, though, the more Perdita recognised a quiet but steely strength to him that translated as a natural gravitas, a quality as unmistakable as it was hard to define. Ed didn’t need to snarl to control a situation, it seemed, and, although he was hardly prowling, he held himself with an enviable assurance that put her in mind of a big cat’s leashed power.

Maybe there was something pantherish about him after all, Perdita decided. It was lucky that he had told her about his owlish streak, or she might have had to be impressed. As it was, whenever she remembered the glimmer of amusement in his expression as he had told her about his owl ascendant, part of her wanted to laugh, while another part would squirm uneasily at the memory of the humorous gleam in his eyes and that unexpected smile.

She couldn’t even accuse Ed of being standoffish. As soon as she could, she had warned her colleagues that their new boss was among them, which meant that they, at least, were able to make a good impression on him. Perdita saw him talking to them all at one time or another, but he never made any effort to talk to her again. Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising after she had accused him of being pretentious, but she couldn’t help feeling a little miffed that he appeared to have dismissed her already.

The hotel was out in the wilds of the Lake District and after dinner there was nothing to do but head for the bar. A natural extrovert, Perdita was on sparkling form, but Ed was clearly unimpressed by her social skills, treating her on the few occasions their paths crossed that evening with a kind of amused detachment that left Perdita’s peacock feathers distinctly ruffled.

Some people were intimidated by her, she knew, some were dazzled, but most others tended to respond to her quick intelligence and humour. Not Edward Merrick, apparently. It wasn’t that he was openly rude or even ignoring her, but she couldn’t shake the sense that he thought that she was a bit silly and superficial somehow.

Perdita couldn’t put her finger on why she felt that. It might have been something to do with the arid edge to his voice when he spoke to her, or that disquieting gleam in the grey eyes that seemed to see much more than she really wanted them to. Whatever it was, Perdita didn’t like it one little bit.

Naturally, she responded by ignoring him and sparkling even harder, and if that made Ed decide she was even sillier than he had thought, that was tough. She couldn’t care less.

It didn’t stop her keeping a surreptitious eye on him as she held court, but for once it felt like hard work. When she saw him leave at last, Perdita should have been able to relax and be herself, but instead the evening seemed suddenly flat.

It was time she rang her mother anyway. Laughingly refusing the offers of a last drink that were pressed on her, Perdita made her escape from the bar. It was a relief to stop smiling when she got outside and she frowned slightly as she walked along the long corridor to her room.

What was the matter with her? She wasn’t usually like this. So Edward Merrick wasn’t that taken with her? It didn’t matter whether he liked her or not as long as they could have a good professional relationship. OK, that hadn’t got off to the best of starts when she had called him pretentious, but she had apologised, and he hadn’t seemed that bothered. There was no reason why they shouldn’t work together perfectly well, and if Ed didn’t want to be friends…well, she had plenty of friends already. She didn’t care.

Much.

Throwing herself on her bed, Perdita pulled out her BlackBerry and pressed the short dial to call her mother.

‘Mum? It’s me,’ she said when her mother answered. ‘How are you?’

As always, Helen James insisted that she was absolutely fine, but Perdita couldn’t help worrying about her. It was hard to put her finger on why, but her mother seemed to have got older and a little querulous quite suddenly. She wasn’t as active as she had once been, and the house she had once kept so immaculately clean had begun to seem less well cared for, as if she couldn’t be bothered with dusting and polishing any more.

Once or twice, Perdita had suggested getting her some help, but her mother refused point-blank to even consider the possibility. ‘I’m not having strangers poking around in my private business!’ she declared. ‘I suppose you’ll want to put me in a home next!’

She got so upset if Perdita tried to pursue the matter that, in the end, Perdita had to let it drop and took to calling in every couple of days instead to help out as discreetly as she could.

‘Millie popped in to say hello,’ her mother told her. ‘She said she was just passing.’

Perdita was relieved to hear no hint of suspicion in Helen’s voice. She had asked her best friend to look in on her mother while she was away on the course, but it had been a risk. If Helen had thought she was being checked up on, she would have been furious.

‘Oh? How was she?’

‘She’s put on weight since her divorce,’ her mother said disapprovingly. ‘She’ll have to be careful not to let herself go.’

Millie had more important things to worry about than her figure, Perdita reflected as she said goodbye to her mother. Her husband had left her with a huge mortgage and the main responsibility for caring for two teenage daughters, and there had been times when her friend’s buoyant sense of humour had been severely tested over the last few years.

Settling herself more comfortably against her pillows, Perdita rang Millie next to thank her. Typically, Millie brushed aside any gratitude. ‘It was fun,’ she said. ‘I always liked your mum. I created an elaborate charade to explain why I was passing in case she decided to interrogate me—you know how scary she can be—but she didn’t ask. I was quite disappointed!’

‘How did you think she was?’

‘She seemed fine to me,’ said Millie. ‘A bit older, of course, and I can see that she’s difficult but, let’s be honest, she was never the easiest of people in the first place, was she?’

‘No, that’s true.’ Perdita sighed. She loved her mother, but she had always been a rather prickly character.

‘Stop worrying about her and tell me about this course you’re on instead.’

‘It’s ridiculous,’ grumbled Perdita, obediently changing the subject. ‘They’ve divided us into personality types and they keep telling me I’m a peacock!’

Millie hooted with laughter. ‘I could have told them that!’

‘You don’t think I’d be a good dolphin?’ asked Perdita, a little put out.

‘Nope, you’re definitely a peacock. Your new boss could have saved the company hundreds of pounds if he’d just asked me instead of forking out for a whole course.’

‘Oh, talking of my new boss…he’s here!’ said Perdita, who had had enough of people failing to recognise the easygoing, fun-loving, dolphin aspects of her personality. She had thought Millie at least would have known her better!

‘No!’ Millie was gratifyingly intrigued by the news. ‘What’s he like?’

‘Well, he’s…’ Perdita stopped, realising that she didn’t really know how to describe Ed.

She knew what he looked like, could picture his face with alarming clarity, in fact: the cool eyes, the cool mouth, that unsettling gleam of humour. He had ordinary brown hair, greying at the temples, and that intriguing fan of laughter lines creasing the corner of his eyes. But she couldn’t tell Millie that.

‘He’s not what I was expecting,’ she finished lamely at last.

‘Oh?’ Millie prompted, drawing out the syllables with exaggerated effect. ‘Attractive?’

‘Not really…Well, sort of, I suppose…I don’t know!’ said Perdita, flustered when Millie started laughing.

‘He sounds gorgeous!’

‘He’s not gorgeous,’ snapped Perdita. ‘He’s just a sensible executive with greying hair who thinks I’m a bit silly.’ She told Millie about her faux pas and Millie seemed to think that was funny too.

‘It sounds as if you might have met your match at last, Perdita. Is he available?’

‘He doesn’t wear a wedding ring,’ said Perdita, and then was furious with herself for admitting that she had noticed.

‘Hmm…doesn’t mean anything,’ said Millie. ‘Find out more tomorrow and report back to me!’

CHAPTER TWO

‘THIS morning you’ll all be divided into pairs and given a series of tasks to achieve.’ Perdita slipped into the dining room as the chief facilitator was making his announcement at breakfast the next morning. Her morning routine always seemed to take twice as long in an unfamiliar bathroom and she was running late.

Grabbing a cup of coffee, she stood at the back and found herself scanning the room for Edward Merrick as she pretended to listen to the instructions for the day.

‘You’ve all been allocated a task to complete at first on your own, but over the course of the day you should meet up with other pairs and eventually you’ll form four large groups. It’s important that you check the list in reception for the location of your first task before you go outside.’

Outside? Perdita grimaced. When she had pulled back her curtains that morning, she hadn’t even been able to see the surrounding hills for the heavy grey cloud. Outside, the tree tops were swaying wildly in the wind, and rain streaked the big windows of the dining room.

She had been hoping that the facilitators would change their minds about running part of the course outside when they saw the conditions. Perdita was not a fan of the great outdoors and although wet weather gear had been specified in the joining instructions for the course she really didn’t have anything suitable to wear. The jacket she had brought with her was adequate to protect her against a shower in the city but would be useless in this rain. She was going to get soaked, and it was all Ed Merrick’s fault.

Perdita barely had time to swallow her coffee before everyone was filing out, apparently keen to start the day. They had all had the forethought to bring coats and boots downstairs but, of course, she had to run up to her room for hers. Really, it would be so much easier if they could just do all these stupid tasks indoors.

Wrapping a fuschia-pink pashmina around her throat for warmth, Perdita made her way reluctantly back down to find her partner. There was only person left in reception when she got there and, with a strange sense of inevitability, she saw that it was Edward Merrick.

‘It looks as if we’re meant to be together after all,’ he greeted her.

Meant to be together…He was joking, that much was obvious, but the very idea made Perdita feel a bit odd.

‘What’s the reasoning behind pairing us off?’ she asked, hoping that she sounded curious rather than as if her heart were pitter-pattering in the most absurd way at the prospect of being alone with him.

‘I suspect it’s because they think I’m the only one you might not be able to boss around,’ he said, cocking a glance at the facilitator, who grinned as he nodded. ‘We all saw how you couldn’t help but take over every task you did yesterday. Today’s a chance for the poor old dolphins and owls to develop their own leadership skills.’

‘Oh, that’s ridiculous!’ said Perdita, exasperated, but aware that a tiny part of her was pleased to be prodded out of her self-consciousness. ‘I made a point of not taking over, in fact. I wasn’t chairperson once.’

‘No, but who decided that a chairperson was needed in the first place?’ asked Ed. ‘Who put forward a candidate every time and got everyone to agree?’

‘Well…that’s only because they were wasting time,’ she said defensively. ‘I just wanted the team to succeed. That’s not the same as bossing everyone around!’

‘Perhaps not, but you’ve got to admit that you’re a hard woman to resist,’ he said, and, although he didn’t actually smile, the corners of his eyes creased and, as her gaze met his, Perdita felt her heart jerk alarmingly.

She pulled her pashmina tighter around her throat. ‘You don’t seem to have any problem resisting me,’ she said crisply to disguise her sudden, embarrassing, breathlessness. ‘Maybe I won’t be able to resist you,’ she added, and then wished that she hadn’t. There were too many double meanings to all this talk of resistance and it unnerved her. ‘Nobody seems to think that would be a problem, do they?’

Ed’s gaze rested on her. The vividly coloured scarf was the perfect foil for her dark colouring. With her glossy hair, expressive face and those bright, dark eyes, she reminded him of a rather cross robin. At forty, she was far from the youngest woman on the course, and she was by no means the prettiest either, but there was a vivacity to her that made it hard to look at anyone else when she was there.

Perdita wasn’t at all what he had been expecting. He had heard glowing reports of her efficiency, and her CV was undeniably impressive, but neither had done anything to prepare him for the reality of her. He had imagined an intensely professional, rather serious woman, dedicated to a career rather than to a family—and yes, maybe he had assumed that because he knew that she was single, Ed thought, rather ashamed of his own prejudices—but Perdita was nothing like that.

Nothing like that, in fact. She was sharp and funny instead of serious, extrovert rather than intense. Given her CV, it was obvious that she was perfectly capable of being professional, but Ed would never have guessed it from his covert observation of her so far. She evidently spent nearly as long grooming herself as his teenage daughter, which was saying something, and she was always perfectly made-up and stylishly dressed. All in all, she seemed far too frivolous for a forty-year-old operations manager.

And, while she might well be single and childless, as stated on her CV, he imagined there would be some man around. She was too attractive to be on her own, but even if she was, there was no sign whatsoever that she was unhappy with her lot. Indeed, she seemed to be having a better time than anyone else, judging by the laughter that surrounded her wherever she was. There was nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, Ed had found himself thinking irritably in the bar the previous night, but there was no need to do it quite so loudly. She was just a bit too…much.

Ed badly wanted to disapprove of Perdita, in fact, but was uneasily aware that he was intrigued by her too. He had more of a problem resisting her than Perdita knew, although he decided to keep that fact to himself.

‘I think the idea is that we learn to work together without the need to resist each other at all,’ he said in a carefully dry voice that earned him a sharp look from those dark eyes. Perdita might act as if she were silly and superficial sometimes, but she was no fool.

‘What exactly is it that we have do?’ she asked briskly, and Ed unfolded a map, relieved at the change of subject.

‘We’ve got to get ourselves to here,’ he said, pointing.

‘And where are we now?’ asked Perdita, peering at the map and wishing that she hadn’t noticed what strong, capable-looking hands he had.

‘Here.’

Her eyes followed one long, square-tipped finger. ‘But that’s miles!’ she exclaimed, horrified.

‘I don’t think it’ll be as bad as it looks, but we’d better get going.’ Ed looked dubiously down at her feet. ‘Are those the only boots you’ve got?’

‘I didn’t realise that the course involved trekking across the countryside in the pouring rain,’ she said, regarding her boots mournfully. They were the most comfortable pair that she owned, but they were designed for city pavements, not windswept hillsides. ‘They’re going to be ruined.’

‘They are,’ Ed agreed without any noticeable sympathy. ‘Didn’t you read the instructions about bringing outdoor gear?’

Of course, he was practically dressed in a waterproof jacket, boots and wet weather trousers. Perdita eyed him with dislike. ‘This is my outdoor gear,’ she said. ‘I don’t do the outdoors.’

‘You do now,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Perdita pulled up the hood of her jacket as she followed him out through the doors.

‘Ugh, it’s horrible out here!’ she said, reminding Ed forcibly of a cat, shaking its wet paws fastidiously. ‘I don’t know why I bothered to wash and dry my hair this morning,’ she grumbled on. ‘I’m going to get soaked!’

Pulling the zip of her jacket up as far as it would go, she screwed up her face against the rain. ‘I really don’t see why we can’t do all this inside, like we did yesterday,’ she went on. ‘You know, if I was as dominating as you all make out, I would make them let us do just that. It’s unfair of them to lull us into a false sense of security and then spring this on us today. They’re just making us suffer for the sake of it!’

‘Don’t you think it’s interesting to see how people react to different situations?’

‘No, I don’t think it’s interesting,’ she said, following him out of the hotel grounds and on to a tussocky hillside. ‘I might think it were slightly more interesting if we were sitting inside, but even then I have my doubts. What I really think is that this whole course is a complete waste of time,’ she added roundly. ‘I just don’t see how this is supposed to help me at work, to be frank. The only thing it’s doing is making me wish that I was there rather than here. I could be warm and dry and catching up on all my work with a cup of coffee now.’

Ed shot her an amused glance as she trudged next to him ‘Do you complain like this at work?’

‘No, I like my job.’

‘Even though you’re over-qualified for it? I’ve read your CV,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s very impressive. You used to work in London, and you spent a couple of years in New York and a stint in Paris.’

He could imagine her there, Ed thought. She had that sharp, sassy, city quality, and even in a waterproof jacket and quite unsuitable boots she managed to look chic.

‘I’d have thought Ellsborough was a little slow for a woman like you,’ he said, and she looked at him with that bright, challenging gaze.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Ellsborough is very attractive, and it’s got lots going for it, but it’s never going to have the buzz of a big city, is it? And you seem like someone who likes a buzz,’ he tried to explain, thinking of how she had looked in the bar last night, the dark hair swinging glossily around her vivid face, that throaty laugh ringing out.

Perdita was someone who created a buzz all of her own, he realised wryly. Maybe she didn’t need a big city.

Perdita wasn’t quite sure how to take that. ‘It’s true, I like to have a good time,’ she said. ‘New York was fabulous, and I did love London. I would happily have stayed there for ever.’

‘So what made you give it all up for Ellsborough?’

Digging her hands into her pockets, Perdita sighed. ‘My father died two years ago and my mother was getting on…When a job came up at Bell Browning, it seemed sensible to apply so that I could go home before I had to. I was terrified that I might end up having to move back and not having anything to do. Ellsborough isn’t exactly handy for commuting to London, and there aren’t that many jobs there that fit my profile.’

And moving back to Ellsborough had seemed a good opportunity to leave Nick and all the sad memories of her time with him behind too, she remembered, although she didn’t tell Ed that. His interest in her was purely professional. He wouldn’t care about her broken heart.

‘So you’re a local girl?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I couldn’t wait to leave Ellsborough for the bright lights when I was growing up, I have to admit, but it’s not so bad now. Bell Browning has been a good company to work for, and I can afford a much better standard of living in the north than I could in London. I’ve got a lovely flat and good friends…’ Perdita trailed off, uneasily aware that she sounded as if she were trying a little too hard to convince herself that she was perfectly happy there.

‘But you still miss the big city?’

‘Sometimes.’ Ed didn’t say anything, but there was a disbelieving quality to his silence and she glanced at him from under her hood. ‘OK, more than sometimes,’ she conceded. ‘I do like what I do at Bell Browning, but yes, I miss the excitement of the City. It’s not just the shops or the restaurants or the fact that there’s so much to do in London. It’s a kind of energy that you get day and night that you just don’t get in a small provincial city like Ellsborough.’

‘So you don’t regret your high-flying career?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said, ‘but we don’t always have a choice, do we? We can’t just walk away from our responsibilities, no matter how much we might wish that we could.’

Her mother had needed her, Nick hadn’t wanted her. At the time, it hadn’t seemed to Perdita that she had much option. Going back to Ellsborough had been the right decision, yes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t regret the way things had turned out, did it?

Hearing the thread of bitterness in her voice, Ed studied her profile with a new interest, seeing for the first time the faint strain that underlay the surface sparkle. Perhaps her life wasn’t always as much fun as it seemed to a casual observer. Ed knew all about responsibilities, knew all about putting on a brave face for the world. Perhaps he would have to revise his opinion of her, he thought. He, of all people, should know that how things seemed on the surface weren’t always the way they really were.

Perdita had stopped for breath at the crest of a hummock and was squinting into the rain. ‘I can’t see anything,’ she said. ‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’

‘I think so.’ Ed stood near her to shelter the map from the rain and turned it round so that she could see. ‘I reckon we’re about here,’ he said, pointing.

‘Still miles to go, then.’ Unsettled by his closeness, Perdita took what she hoped would be a casual step back, only to stumble over a tussock of grass. She would have fallen if Ed hadn’t shot out a hand to catch her under the arm and haul her upright once more. His grip was hard and strong, and Perdita felt ridiculously breathless as he let her go.

‘All right?’

‘Yes…yes, I’m fine.’ Her voice sounded all thin and silly. She just hoped he would put it down to her almost-fall.

‘Do you want a rest?’

She shook her head. The sooner they found some other people, the better. ‘We’ll just get wetter and colder if we stop. Let’s go on.’

They set off in a diagonal line across and down the hillside, heading for the river that was hidden in the murky mist at the bottom of the valley—at least according to Ed’s map. Perdita was very conscious of him walking beside her. He never slipped or tripped the way she kept doing, but moved with an easy, deliberate stride.

Of course, that would be the panther in him, Perdita tried to joke herself out of this disturbing awareness of him, but it didn’t really work. Even in this dreary light, he seemed extraordinarily well-defined, with a solidity and a steadiness that was both reassuring and unsettling at the same time. With her head bent against the rain, she couldn’t see much of his face, but if she peeked under her hood she could catch a glimpse of the edge of his mouth and, in spite of her cold feet and the rain trickling inside her collar, something warm would flicker and glow deep within her.

Any extra warmth should have been welcome in this weather but, frankly, it was making Perdita decidedly edgy. A decent jacket, gloves, thick socks…that was the kind of warmth she needed, not this melting, squirmy feeling she got whenever she looked at a man who was not only her boss, but was also responsible for her being out here in the first place.

Huddling herself deeper into her coat, she plodded on and did her best to ignore him, or at least ignore the way he was making her feel, but when Ed broke the silence by asking her what she did with herself when she wasn’t at work, she snapped at him.

‘What’s with the interrogation?’ she asked sharply, and Ed raised his brows at her tone.

‘I just thought this would be a good opportunity to learn a bit more about each other,’ he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of conciliation.

‘I’m not learning much about you, I notice!’

‘What do you want to know?’

A little flustered by the open invitation to ask him about himself, Perdita hesitated.

Of course what she really wanted to know was whether he was married, or if had a girlfriend, but she could hardly ask that, could she? Not when he had read her CV and presumably knew that she was single.

‘Why are you moving to Ellsborough?’ she asked instead, mentally shushing Millie, who would be furious to know that she had passed up such a golden opportunity to ask about his personal life. ‘You thought it was odd that I’d ended up there, but I wasn’t nearly such a high-flyer as you,’ she pointed out. ‘We’ve all heard about the companies you’ve run in London, and Bell Browning is a very small fish compared to them.’ She sent him one of her sharp glances. ‘You’re not planning to carve it up and sell it on, are you?’

‘No,’ said Ed. ‘It’s a sound company. There’s plenty to do, of course, but I see no reason to restructure—not yet, anyway.’

Perdita was only partially reassured. ‘Still, it’s not much of challenge for a man who’s been chief executive of some household names the way you have.’

‘I don’t know. It could be quite a challenge dealing with my new staff if you’re anything to go by,’ he said, but his smile glinted and Perdita despised herself for the way that treacherous warmth in the pit of her stomach spread insidiously through her veins at the sight of it.

‘Won’t you miss London, though?’ she asked, mentally dousing herself inside.

‘To be honest, I haven’t had time to appreciate living in London for a while now,’ said Ed with a sigh. ‘I wanted to downsize and move somewhere new, somewhere less frenetic, so when the opportunity at Bell Browning came up, I took it. A small, specialist company targeting niche markets will be an interesting change, and I’m looking forward to it, but it’s not really about me. The whole family needs a fresh start.’

So he had a family. Damn.

Come on, Perdita caught herself up, alarmed by the depth of her disappointment. What were you thinking? How many attractive men in their forties do you know who don’t have a wife and kids? Of course he was always going to have a family!

‘Oh?’ was the best she could manage as a response.

‘My wife died five years ago,’ Ed told her as they scrambled down a steep path, and Perdita was immediately overwhelmed by guilt for having been disappointed, even briefly, at the thought that he was ‘taken’.

‘Since then, I’ve been trying to keep the kids on an even keel,’ he went on. ‘At first it seemed better to keep them in a familiar environment, but…well, the fact is that my son has been in trouble recently,’ he admitted. ‘He’s not a bad boy, but he got in with the wrong crowd.’

He caught himself up with a twisted smile. ‘I’m sure every parent says that,’ he acknowledged, ‘but Tom really is OK.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ said Perdita quickly. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your wife, Ed,’ she added, picking her words with care. ‘I didn’t realise that you were a widower. It must be very difficult bringing up children on your own.’

‘Especially when they start going off the rails,’ he said ruefully. ‘Tom’s always been quite withdrawn—he’s much less resilient than the girls—which is why I didn’t really know how to cope when things went wrong. I’m hoping the move will give him a fresh start, though. He’s due to start at sixth-form college in September, so the idea is that we’ll move to Ellsborough at the end of the summer and they can all begin a new term at their new schools.’

‘All?’ Perdita wasn’t sure how she felt now. She had gone from an uneasy attraction to disappointment at hearing that he had a family and then guilt at discovering his personal tragedy. The sensible thing would be to feel absolutely nothing for him at all, but that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment. Best to stick to polite interest, she decided, and put her feelings away to be examined later when she was on her own. ‘How many children have you got?’

‘Three,’ said Ed. ‘Tom’s the eldest, and then there’s Cassie, who’s fifteen going on twenty-five, and Lauren is just fourteen.’

Perdita wondered how two teenage girls who were used to the big city would get on in provincial Ellsborough. It had been hard enough for her, and she had been coming back to a place she already knew. ‘How do they feel about leaving London?’ she asked carefully.

‘They’re complaining like mad, of course,’ said Ed, ‘but they’re much more sociable and confident than their brother. I think they’ll cope OK—I hope so, anyway, as it’s too late now. I’ve bought a house and we exchanged contracts yesterday, so if all goes well we’ll be able to move at the beginning of September.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Not far from the centre. It’s an area called Flaxton—do you know it?’

Perdita nodded. ‘It’s the other side of town from me,’ she said. ‘My mother lives there, in fact.’ Flaxton was a part of the town known for its big, comfortable Edwardian houses, but she would have expected Ed to have chosen somewhere a little more exclusive. He must have earned a packet in London. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t go for one of the villages around Ellsborough, though. Some of them are lovely.’

‘It’s too easy to spend all evening as a taxi service when you’ve got three teenagers in the house,’ said Ed wryly. ‘They want to be out with their friends, not stuck in the country with me. And since I’m making them move away from London, buying a house near the centre is a compromise I can make.’

He was putting his kids first, the way Nick had always done, thought Perdita, and that was how it should be. Still, she couldn’t help feeling depressed as they trudged the rest of the way to the river.

Not that she had any business feeling depressed. It wasn’t as if there had ever been any prospect of a relationship, anyway. Ed hadn’t given the slightest indication that he was ever likely to see her as more than a colleague. But if he had Perdita tried to reason with herself, it would have been depressing to realise that it would never have worked.

She had already had a relationship with a single father, and it had been too hard. She wasn’t going to put herself in the position of always being second-best again, so it would never have been a runner with Ed, anyway, she told herself firmly.

Oh, and a relationship with your boss was never a good idea either, she remembered a little belatedly. No, Edward Merrick was definitely out of bounds for all sorts of good reasons.

The fact that he had a mouth that made her weak at the knees was neither here nor there.

‘It wasn’t as if he was that attractive,’ she told Millie when she got home the following day and had endured an interrogation about Edward Merrick and his entire emotional history.

Millie wasn’t convinced. ‘It sounds a sinful waste to me,’ she said. ‘The poor man’s been a widower for five years. This move will be a fresh start for him too, remember. I bet you anything he gets snapped up as soon as he arrives—and if you hold his children against him, you’ll miss your chance and you’ll only have yourself to blame!’

‘I don’t want a chance,’ said Perdita loftily. ‘All I’m looking for with Ed Merrick is a good professional relationship.’

And, given that she had started off by insulting him, followed up by grumbling about the course he’d sent her on and showing off in the bar every night, she might have to work quite hard just to have that.

Not that she had the chance to build any kind of relationship with him for some time. The dreary June turned into a changeable July and a belated burst of summer in August, but Edward Merrick made only fleeting visits to Bell Browning in that time. Perdita saw him once, getting into a lift with fellow directors, and another time walking across the car park, deep in conversation with the head of human resources, but she wasn’t invited to meet him.

It wasn’t that she wanted to see him again particularly, but she couldn’t help feeling a little miffed. Didn’t he think the Operations department important? And, come to think of it, weren’t they supposed to have bonded on that stupid course?

Luckily, she was too busy to spend too much time thinking about him. There was plenty to keep her occupied at work, and her mother caught a chill at the end of July which left her frailer and more irascible than normal. Perdita thought she was vaguer, too, although her will was as strong as ever. She was still stubbornly resistant to the idea that she might have any kind of outside help, and Perdita took to going over every evening to make sure her mother had something to eat and to tidy up as much as she could.

So it was only very occasionally that she remembered Edward Merrick. When she did, it was always with a sense of shock that she could picture him so vividly: the grey eyes, the stern mouth, that elusive glinting smile. It was odd when she hardly thought about him at all.

Well, not much anyway.

One cool evening in early September, Perdita pulled into the drive of the rambling Edwardian house where she had grown up, and where her mother still lived. A huge removal van was backed into the next door drive, she noticed with relief. It looked as if someone was moving in at last. The house had been on the market for ages and she hadn’t liked her mother living with an empty house on one side. She needed all the understanding neighbours she could get.

It looked as if the removal men were almost finished. Perdita switched off the engine and sat in the car for a minute. It was something she often did nowadays. She knew she was just putting off the moment when she had to get out of the car and go inside, but it gave her a chance to steel herself for any changes in her mother.

Sometimes there were just tiny indications that she was losing control. Perdita got her fastidiousness from her mother, and seeing her with a stain on her shirt or an unwashed pile of dishes in the sink was heartbreaking confirmation that, however much she resisted it, her mother was declining. Occasionally, though, her mother would be brighter and so much her old self that Perdita let herself hope that she might be getting better after all.

‘I hate you!’

Perdita was startled out of her thoughts by the sight of a very pretty teenage girl flouncing out of the neighbouring house. ‘I wish we’d never come here! I’m going back to London!’ she shouted at someone inside and, slamming the front door, she stormed past the removal men, who were rolling up cloths and carrying empty packing cases back into the van, and stalked off down the road.

Suppressing a smile, Perdita got out of the car at last. She remembered stomping off down that very same road on a regular basis when she was a teenager. Her mother had never bothered chasing after her either.

The memory of her mother as she had been then made her smile fade as she let herself into the house. ‘Mum, it’s me!’

She found her mother in the kitchen, peering uneasily through the window at the house next door. ‘There’s new people next door,’ she said, sounding fretful. ‘I hope they won’t be noisy.’

Perdita thought of the slammed front door. ‘I’m sure they won’t,’ she said soothingly. ‘You won’t hear them anyway.’

Picking up a can from the counter, she sniffed at it cautiously and wrinkled her nose at the smell. ‘Why don’t I make some supper?’ she said brightly, trying to distract her mother from the window as she poured the contents away down the sink and rinsed out the can. ‘I’ve brought some chicken. I thought I could grill it the way you like.’

‘Oh, it’s all right, dear. I’ve made supper.’

‘Oh?’ Perdita looked around with a sinking heart. Helen James had once been a wonderful cook, but her recent attempts had been very erratic.

‘A casserole. It’s in the oven.’

But when Perdita looked in the oven it was stone cold. She took out the uncooked stew and wanted to weep. ‘I think you must have forgotten to turn it on,’ she said as cheerfully as she could. ‘It’ll take too long to cook now. I’ll do the chicken instead.’

All through supper her mother fretted about the fact that there were new people next door. She worried about the noise and whether the children would run into the garden, repeating herself endlessly until Perdita had to grit her teeth to stop herself snapping. Eventually she suggested that she went and introduced herself to the new neighbours.

‘I’ll tell them that you don’t want them in the garden,’ she said, reflecting that it might not be a bad idea to go round and make contact in any case. She would be able to leave her phone numbers in case there was ever a problem.

‘Oh, would you, dear?’

‘I’ll take them a bottle of wine as a housewarming present.’

Settling her mother in front of the television after supper, Perdita cleared up the kitchen and then went down to the cellar where her father’s store was still kept. He had loved his wine and it always made Perdita feel sad to see how many bottles he had never had the chance to enjoy.

She selected a bottle, blew the dust off and headed next door. August’s brief burst of heat seemed to have disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived and a light drizzle was falling, settling on Perdita like a gossamer web as she crossed the drive.

Reaching the front door, Perdita hesitated before ringing the bell. Should she be doing this? The poor people were probably exhausted after their move and the last thing they would want was a neighbour turning up. On the other hand, the idea that she would make contact appeared to have soothed her mother. She didn’t really want to go back and say that she hadn’t done it. She wouldn’t stay long, though. She would simply hand over the bottle and explain who she was.

There was such a long silence after she rang that Perdita was about to turn and leave when, with a clatter of shoes on a tiled hall floor, the door was abruptly opened by the same girl she had last seen striding furiously down the road. Perdita thought it tactful not to ask if she had decided better of returning to London.

‘Hello,’ she said instead with a smile. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just come from next door. I’ve brought this,’ she said, holding up the bottle. ‘Just to welcome you to the street and ask if there’s anything I can do for you.’

‘Can you get Dad to take us back to London?’ the girl asked, taking her literally, and Perdita suppressed a smile. Here was someone who wasn’t at all happy about being in Ellsborough, obviously.

‘I was thinking more about lending a cup of sugar, that kind of thing.’

‘Oh. OK.’ The girl sighed, then turned and bellowed up the staircase in a voice that belied her slight frame. ‘Dad! It’s the neighbour!’

There was a pause, followed by a muffled shout of, ‘Coming!’ A few moments later, Perdita heard the sound of feet echoing on the uncarpeted staircase and she turned, a welcoming smile pinned to her face, only for it to freeze in shock as she saw who had reached the bottom of the stairs.

Ed Merrick.

CHAPTER THREE

PERDITA’S heart lurched into her throat. The sight of him was a physical shock, a charge of recognition that surged and crackled through her body so powerfully that she felt jarred and jolted. She barely knew the man, after all. He shouldn’t seem so startlingly familiar. Ed was looking tired and more than a little grubby in a T-shirt and jeans but the keen eyes were just the same as she had remembered. He had the same mouth, the same air of cool competence, the same ability to discompose her just by standing there.

‘It’s you,’ she said stupidly.

Ed looked equally surprised to see her, and for one awful moment she thought that she was going to have to remind him who she was, but then his face cleared and he was coming towards her with a smile.

‘Perdita…’ For once Ed seemed to have lost his normal composure. ‘Sorry…you’re the last person I was expecting…’

Ed, in fact, was completely thrown by the sight of Perdita standing in his hall, as slender and as vivid as ever, throwing her surroundings into relief and yet making them seem faintly drab in comparison.

He remembered her so clearly from the course in June, and had been looking forward to seeing her again. He had hoped to bump into her on one of his visits to Bell Browning over the summer, but he hadn’t had so much as a glimpse of her. He had asked, very casually, if she were around one day, but she had been away then for some reason and he hadn’t wanted to push it by asking again.

There would be time to get to know her when he moved permanently, Ed reasoned. People would think that he was interested in her, which he wasn’t, or at least, not in that way. Quite apart from the fact that he was pretty sure someone like her would already be in a relationship, she wasn’t at all his type. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see that she was attractive, in a striking rather than a pretty way, but she was nothing like Sue, for instance, who had been soft and sweet and calm and loving. There was nothing soft or sweet about Perdita. She was edgy and astringent and restless and when she was around, calm was the last thing Ed felt.

Her performance on the last day of that course had exasperated and impressed him in equal measure. In spite of all her complaints and in spite of the rain, she had contributed more than anyone else to the success of the tasks, and Ed was fairly sure that she had enjoyed herself too. Her ability to motivate and defuse tension with humour was extraordinary, he had thought. So he had remembered her, yes, but only because she was such an impossible person to forget. He wasn’t interested.

So he was rather taken aback by the way every sense in his body seemed to leap with pleasure at the sight of her.

Perdita herself seemed less than delighted to see him, and he stopped himself before he found himself greeting her with quite inappropriate warmth.

There was an awkward pause. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Ed asked after a moment.

It sounded all too much like an accusation to Perdita, who flushed. ‘I…my mother lives next door,’ she said, ridiculously flustered by the situation. ‘We saw the removal vans so guessed you’d just moved in. I just popped over to welcome you and give you this.’ She held up the bottle of wine awkwardly.

‘That’s very kind,’ said Ed as he wiped his hands on his jeans. ‘Sorry, I’m filthy,’ he explained and took the bottle Perdita was holding out to him. His brows shot up as he read the label. ‘This is more than just a bottle of wine! I hope you’re going to stay and share it with me?’

‘Oh, no, I mustn’t,’ Perdita stammered, stepping back, as gauche as a schoolgirl. ‘You must be tired if you’ve been moving all day.’

‘Please,’ said Ed, and unfairly he smiled. ‘I’ve had a long day and you don’t know how much I’ve been wishing that I could just sit down with a glass of wine! I can’t share it with the kids, and I don’t like to drink alone.’

‘Well…’ Now it would seem ungracious if she rushed off, Perdita decided. ‘I mustn’t stay long, though. I’ve left my mother on her own.’

‘Have a glass anyway. Everything’s chaos, but come into the kitchen and I’ll see if I can lay my hands on a corkscrew.’

Ed’s daughter looked from one to the other suspiciously. ‘Do you guys know each other, then?’

‘Your father is my boss,’ Perdita told her.

‘And this is my daughter, Cassie, as you’ve probably gathered,’ Ed put in.

Cassie tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘God, is he as grumpy at work as he is at home?’

‘You’d probably need to ask his PA,’ said Perdita, amused. ‘I haven’t had much to do with him yet.’

‘It’s no use asking his PAs. They always think he’s lovely, but we know better,’ said Cassie with a dark look at her father. ‘At home, he’s a tyrant! He’s so pig-headed and unreasonable!’

‘Really?’

‘I couldn’t bear to work for him,’ Cassie declared. ‘I’d be on strike the whole time!’

Ed seemed quite unfazed by all of this as he led the way into the big kitchen at the back of the house. ‘I’m so unreasonable that after a day moving house with three bone-idle teenagers, I decided that it was more important to sort out some beds so that we could all sleep tonight, rather than dropping everything to set up the computer so that Cassie could instant message her friends right away.’

‘Very tyrannical,’ murmured Perdita.

‘See?’ Cassie shook back her hair and changed tack without warning. ‘Can I have some wine?’

‘No,’ said Ed.

Cassie heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘I’m going to go and ring India and tell her how boring it is here!’ she announced and, when this threat had no visible effect on her father, she flounced out.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Ed, locating the corkscrew at last in one of the boxes piled on the kitchen counters. ‘Cassie is a bit of a drama queen, as you probably gathered.’

‘She’s very pretty.’

‘And knows it,’ he said wryly. ‘When Cassie is in a good mood, there’s no one more delightful—and no one more unpleasant when she’s in a temper! It can be exhausting just keeping up with her moods.’

‘My best friend has two teenage girls,’ said Perdita, who had spent many hours plying Millie with wine and listening to the latest crisis with either Roz or Emily, and occasionally both. ‘I gather they can be hard work. It always seems that boys are easier, but that’s probably because Millie doesn’t have one!’

Ed smiled ruefully. ‘Probably. Tom can be just as difficult in his own way, and so can Lauren. They’re upstairs, but I’ll spare you the introductions for now. It’s been a long day and for now I’d just like to sit down and relax for a few minutes!’

He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. ‘Are you OK here? The sitting room is even more of a mess, I’m afraid.’

‘Here’s fine.’ Perdita watched as Ed poured the wine and then burrowed his nose in the glass reverently. Something about the intentness of his expression, something about his smile, something about the hand curving around the glass made her squirm inside and she wriggled involuntarily in her chair.

Ed lifted his head and smiled at her across the table. ‘This is a wonderful wine. Do you always give away bottles like this to your neighbours?’

‘No, it was just the first one I found in my father’s collection,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know anything about wine, to be honest. I’m sure Dad would be glad to know it had gone to someone who appreciates it, though.’

‘I remember you said your father had died.’ Ed took another appreciative sip and put his wine down. ‘Does your mother live on her own?’

‘For the moment.’ Perdita turned her own glass very carefully by the stem. ‘That’s one of the reasons I came round, actually. I wanted to give her new neighbours my contact numbers in case there was ever any problem. She hasn’t been well recently, and it’s taking her a long time to get over it. I try to come every day, but she’s alone at night and when I’m at work, and that does worry me sometimes. Some days she seems fine, but others she’s not so good.’

‘Couldn’t you get someone to come in and help her?’ said Ed. ‘When my own mother was ill, she had excellent carers. There was someone in the house with her twenty-four hours a day.’

‘I’ve tried suggesting that, but she won’t hear of it.’ Perdita sighed and stopped fiddling with her glass, taking a sip of wine instead. ‘Sometimes I think that the only thing keeping her going is her determination not to lose her privacy. That’s really important to people of her generation. I do understand. It must be awful to feel dependent, but it’s so frustrating too. Her life—and mine!—would be so much easier if she would let someone pop in and cook and clean at least. As it is—’

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