City Cinderella

‘Certainly not,’ she snapped, bristling.

He grinned. ‘Thought that would do it. Right, then. Stay for a while. Talk to me.’

Disarmed by the grin, Emily gave in, and at his prompting provided Lucas with a brief résumé of her background—father a retired clergyman, mother a leading light in the local history society and devourer of crime novels. ‘A combination with drawbacks,’ she said wryly. ‘Mother wasn’t keen on my move to Spitalfields because it was once a favourite haunt of Jack the Ripper, though she’s interested in the Roman skeletons found there. I also have a brother,’ she went on. ‘Andrew is head of the physical education department in the school he once graced himself in company with my landlord, Nat Sedley. They’ve been close friends ever since, which is why Nat offered me a room in his house when I left Miles.’

‘And is your landlord married to the mother of his twins?’ Lucas asked casually.

‘Yes. But there’s a rift. Thea lives with the children in their house near Chastlecombe and Nat lives alone up here. But he desperately wants his life with Thea back. He gets the twins on alternate weekends but it cuts him to pieces to part with them every time. He’s a colleague of Liz Donaldson, your neighbour, by the way.’ She smiled a little. ‘He interrogated her pretty thoroughly about you before I was permitted to take the job.’

Lucas gave her a cynical look. ‘Are you sure this man still loves his wife?’

‘Nat was merely acting on Andy’s behalf to make sure you were a suitable employer for the little sister.’ She smiled demurely. ‘Happily, you passed muster.’

He laughed, then put a hand to his head, wincing. ‘I’m pleased I made the grade.’

‘Is your head bad?’ she said with sympathy.

‘Only when I laugh.’

‘I’ll give you some more pills, then you really should try to sleep.’

‘If I do, you’ll disappear.’ He gave her a cajoling look. ‘If I promise to sleep for a while will you stay this afternoon, and have tea with me later? In the meantime, put your feet up, watch television, or read. Take anything you like from my shelves. Another time,’ he added slyly, ‘you can bring your laptop and work here.’

‘There won’t be another time. You’ll be better soon.’

‘No, I won’t,’ he said promptly. ‘I’m very ill.’

‘In that case, you’d better call a doctor.’

‘I don’t want a doctor. I just want you to stay for a while. Though God knows I don’t blame you for wanting to run,’ he added with sudden self-disgust.

Emily eyed him in silence for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. ‘Oh, very well. I’ll stay until six, but then I really must get back, otherwise there’ll be no point in going. I’m due at the Donaldsons’ in the morning. They come back tomorrow.’

‘Don’t go back. Stay the night in my spare room. I meant it just now,’ he added quickly. ‘I’ll happily pay the overtime.’

She gave him a scornful look, took two pills from his bedside drawer, poured bottled water into a glass and handed it to him. ‘Every drop, please.’

He obeyed, then gave her a smile which unglued her knees. ‘Thank you, Emily. I promise I won’t mention money again.’

In contrast to the stark, minimalist effect preferred by the Donaldsons, Lucas Tennent’s taste ran to uncluttered comfort. Because the converted loft gave maximum living space but presented a problem with storage, he’d solved it by investing in a collection of chests, some of them modern, others brassbound and antique. In places the old honey-coloured brick of the walls had been left exposed, in others plastered and painted amber, the few pictures hung on them modern, bright slashes of colour. And in the short time she’d been working there Emily had come to love every inch of it.

Her only time spent in the vast, split-level living area had been to put it in perfect order as part of her cleaning routine. But now, while the washing-machine was on its dry cycle, Emily settled down on one of the deep, tempting sofas and began to read. Before long the words started to run into each other and at last she gave up, tugged off her shoes and curled up, her head on one of the cushions. She set a mental alarm clock to wake up after half an hour, so she could check on the invalid, but woke with a start to find Lucas Tennent looking down at her.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said penitently, scrambling to her feet to put her shoes on.

‘It was so quiet I thought you’d gone home after all, so I came to investigate.’

‘You shouldn’t be out of bed,’ she scolded, and took his arm to shepherd him back, then dropped it again in alarm when she felt the heat of his skin scorch through the clothes.

‘Do that again,’ he said, grinning. ‘I like it.’

Emily gave him an exasperated glare. ‘If you’ll go back to bed, I’ll make tea.’

‘Tea for two,’ he said firmly, then turned away to cough.

‘You see? Go back to bed—Lucas, please,’ she begged, and flushed at the look he gave her.

‘For you, Emily, anything,’ he assured her and, still coughing, went off towards his bedroom.

She went to the kitchen to make tea and toast the crumpets she’d included in her shopping. When she took the tray into the bedroom Lucas was waiting, bolt upright against neatly stacked pillows in his newly tidied bed. His ashen face sported streaks of hectic colour, which worried Emily very much, but she smiled at him as she put the tray down.

‘Feeling better?’

‘Not a lot,’ he admitted, and gave a rueful look at the dish of crumpets. ‘I hate to be ungrateful, Emily, but I’m not hungry.’

‘OK,’ she said without fuss. ‘Just the tea, then.’

He downed the tea thirstily, then lay back against the pillows as though the mere exertion of drinking had exhausted him. ‘I feel so bloody feeble. Were you like this?’

‘Yes. But my mother called the doctor, who gave me antibiotics for my chest infection. So I soon got better,’ she added significantly. ‘Look, Lucas, your temperature’s up and I can hear you wheezing from here. You need a doctor. Do you have one I can ring?’

‘It’s just flu,’ he said testily. ‘I don’t need a doctor—’ He broke off to cough again and Emily handed him a box of tissues, then looked at him in question as the phone rang.

‘Answer it, please,’ he gasped.

Emily picked up the receiver and said a cautious hello.

‘Alice Tennent here,’ said an attractive voice. ‘Is Lucas there?’

Emily gave the receiver to Lucas, who lay with sweat beading his forehead as he battled to control his cough. He croaked a hoarse greeting, then went off into another paroxysm of coughing and handed the receiver back. ‘My sister—explain,’ he gasped.

‘I’m afraid your brother’s feeling very unwell, Miss Tennent,’ said Emily.

‘Sounds as though he’s dying! Has he seen a doctor?’

‘He refuses to call one,’ she said, defiant as she met the glare in the invalid’s eyes. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’s got a chest infection.’

‘Right. Hand him over, please.’

Emily thrust the phone at Lucas, then watched in some amusement when he disagreed in violent protest with his sister before handing the phone back. ‘She wants to speak to you,’ he growled.

‘Who, exactly, am I speaking to?’ asked Alice Tennent pleasantly.

‘Emily Warner, your brother’s cleaner,’ she said baldly, ignoring the look of impotent wrath on the invalid’s face. ‘I stayed on this afternoon because I was worried about your brother.’

‘That’s extraordinarily kind of you! Look, Mrs Warner—’

‘Miss, actually.’