The Bedroom Incident

‘Sixty-five per cent claimed junk mail.’

‘I’d go along with that,’ Matthew said, thinking of the charity pleas, double-glazing offers and cheap insurance proposals which landed almost daily on his mat. ‘The ones I hate most are the letters which positively identify me as the mystery winner of ten million pounds.’

‘But there’s a catch.’

‘Always,’ he said, and turned to look beyond the visitors’ car park and wet-slicked landscaped gardens to where a yellow sandstone castle rose up against the leaden sky.

‘Are you here for the dinner this evening?’

‘I am,’ Kristin replied, following his gaze.

The castle was Flytes Keep, the home of Sir George Innes, a wealthy Scottish entrepreneur who had recently added ownership of The Ambassador to his portfolio of business interests. Built around an inner courtyard and surrounded by a moat, parts of the building dated from the fourteenth century. She smiled. With turrets, a drawbridge and comparatively small for a castle, Flytes Keep looked as if it came straight from the pages of a fairy tale.

‘And I’m staying overnight,’ she added, wondering if she sounded as amazed as she felt.

If anyone had told her, this time last week, that she would be interviewed for a fantastic new job and invited to stay at a private castle in Kent, she would have said they were nuts. But life was full of surprises.

‘I believe everyone is,’ he said.

‘As it’s Friday afternoon I had visions of getting snarled up in traffic and being late, so I left London early,’ Kristin went on. ‘Wadda y’know, the roads were clear.’

‘Sod’s law,’ he remarked. ‘And you put your foot down?’

‘I tooled along the motorway at eighty.’

‘You broke the speed limit? Tut-tut.’

Her hazel eyes sparkled. ‘Didn’t you?’

Matthew looked down at the thoroughbred vehicle which had purred along like a hungry tiger, eating up the miles. ‘Once or twice.’ He grinned. ‘And then some.’

‘So how long have you been here?’ she enquired.

‘I pulled in at around five, but on purpose because I wanted to speak to Sir George. However, when I arrived it was raining and as I didn’t fancy getting wet I decided to wait in the car for a few minutes until it stopped. I closed my eyes and—’

‘Zonk?’

‘I was out for the count for over an hour.’

‘You must’ve been tired,’ Kristin said, her smile sympathetic.

He nodded. ‘The past two months have been non-stop. Last week I decided to take a few days off and take things easy. I hoped to catch up on some sleep, but what with making notes until the early hours and Charlie creeping into my bed at the crack of dawn there wasn’t much chance.’

‘Charlie is your girlfriend, son, Labrador dog—who?’ she asked.

‘My nephew. I spent my so-called holiday with my sister and her husband and their son, Charlie, in Cheshire. I’ve driven down from there today. Charlie’s six and a super kid, but—’ he groaned ‘—he thinks I’m “cool” because I drive a sports car and he never left me alone. It was his Easter break from school and I was forever being inveigled into reading to him or going swimming or playing computer games until I damn near had double vision.’

Kristin laughed. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’ll get worse, I have a brother who’s eight—a half-brother actually; my parents are divorced,’ she said, and a fleeting shadow darkened her eyes. ‘And when I stay I’m expected to take him and his friends on picnics and to collect frog spawn and to go roller-blading.’

He placed an anguished hand to his temple. ‘Save me.’

‘But you enjoyed being with Charlie?’

‘I did. He told me that I’m his favourite uncle and although I’m his only uncle I almost burst with pride,’ Matthew said, and paused.

He was not in the habit of regaling people with details from his private life—let alone such schmaltzy details—so why was he telling her all this?

‘I’m going in now,’ he said, becoming brisk. ‘And you?’

Kristin checked her wristwatch. ‘It’s half an hour until my suggested arrival time so maybe—’ she began hesitantly.

‘You’re going to sit alone in the car park twiddling your thumbs?’ He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘No,’ she agreed.

Matthew rolled up the window, removed the ignition key and shut the door. Opening the boot of his car, he lifted out a tan leather suitcase. The remote-control locking was activated and with a long stride which avoided a scattering of puddles left by the rain he walked over to the Morris.

The young woman was bent into the back. She held a couple of bulging plastic bags in one hand and was frowning at an assortment of others which, together with a dark green holdall, filled the rear seat.

‘May I help?’ he offered.

Kristin straightened to find her fellow guest standing beside her. She had already noted his broad brow, high cheekbones and strong features, but now she saw that his eyes were a clear blue, fringed with thick black lashes. He looked intelligent, self-assured and...steely. The kind of exciting, slightly dangerous stranger whom mothers were supposed to warn daughters about.

Her mouth curved. Job opportunity, visit to castle and now meeting Him of the Chiselled Jaw could be added to the list. There were ample reasons to be cheerful.

‘Yes, please,’ she said.

Chances were he would be working on the rejigged Ambassador, she thought as she bent into the car again, but in what capacity? Could his athletic physique indicate an interest in sports? Possible, and yet an inbuilt gravitas suggested he was a more serious journalist, perhaps specialising in politics or finance. Or did that steeliness mean he might be a war correspondent?

She lifted out two more carriers. Charlie’s favourite uncle looked vaguely familiar. Had she seen his photograph somewhere, perhaps over a byline? That would explain the nagging feeling she had of recognition.

‘Don’t you own a suitcase?’ Matthew enquired, taking the bags which she handed to him.

‘Of course I do, but I wasn’t aware until a couple of days ago that I’d be coming here and I’ve lent it to my flatmate, Beth, who’s away in Greece. I know that marching into a place like Flytes Keep weighed down with plastic supermarket bags isn’t exactly chic—’ she made a face ‘—but I didn’t have the inclination to fork out for a second case nor the spare cash.’

‘No one’s going to bother.’

‘I’m bothered,’ Kristin said, and felt a sudden twinge of nervousness.

The job for which she had been interviewed earlier in the week was not hers—not quite, not yet. But it offered a chance to prove herself which she desperately wanted and so she desperately wanted her stay at Flytes Keep to go smoothly.

‘When I was packing I persuaded myself that the bags would look zany,’ she told him, and sighed, ‘but now—now I feel like a fool.’

‘For no reason,’ he said, with such calm certainty that she felt reassured.

Matthew watched as she continued to extract plastic carriers containing shoes, sweatshirts, magazines and unidentifiable silky feminine scraps.

‘You’ve come well equipped for just one night,’ he observed wryly.