The Business Arrangement

‘She can’t go into an office dressed like that. I’ve never seen any woman walk around Harpur-Laithwaite dressed like that. And while we’re at it she’d better do something about her hair. She looks about sixteen.’

‘She does look young,’ Hugh agreed, looking thoughtful.

‘You needn’t talk about me as though I’m not here.’

‘If she’s going to be any kind of a match for Sonya, she ought, at least, to look the part,’ Seb continued relentlessly. ‘Chief Executive’s wife and all. She’ll walk straight past her.’

The pain in her chest was becoming uncomfortable as she tried to keep up. She wasn’t part of their conversation, but since she was the subject of it she felt they should show more consideration of her. ‘Can you walk a little slower?’

‘Sorry,’ Hugh said, immediately slackening his pace. ‘We were just saying it’s a pity you don’t look older.’

Amy forced a smile to her face, but the hurt radiated from her. ‘Can’t do much about that.’ She turned to look at Seb. ‘You know perfectly well I don’t have any money. What I do have is plenty of debts.’

He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself. ‘There’s no need to get defensive, Amy. I’m only saying it like it is.’

‘Are you?’ she said dangerously.

Seb huffed. ‘Well, it’s true. You will need to power-dress for Harpur-Laithwaite. Hugh will have to buy you something to wear.’

‘How kind of him. Do I get to choose my clothes myself or will they just arrive?’

Hugh’s soft laugh only made her feel more irritated. This was personal. This hurt.

Seb laughed back at him and placed a heavy arm around her shoulders. ‘Stop acting like a ruffled pigeon. It isn’t like you to get moody.’

She shook him off. ‘Only if I have extreme provocation. It might have something to do with the fact it’s my birthday today and, please—’ she held up a hand to stop him speaking ‘—don’t even begin to tell me you forgot because I’ve already worked that out for myself.’

His expression was comical and the look of total horror on his face went some way to assuaging the cold, resentful feeling she’d had since breakfast. She heard the small, muttered expletive and saw the look of entreaty he cast at Hugh.

‘Look, Amy, I’m sorry,’ Seb began with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve got a hell of a memory.’

‘Fine. But I think the least you can do is not annihilate me completely. I’m perfectly aware I’ve nothing to wear. Believe me, it’s very boring dragging on the same pair of jeans each day and feeling grateful for the odd charityshop find.’ There was silence and Amy felt vaguely pleased at herself. ‘Now, let’s just set up this picnic and let the subject drop.’

She was aware of the closet glances passing between the two men, but she decided to ignore them. If they felt uncomfortable—good. She demanded very little of her brother, but his reminding her how unsuitably dressed she was for Henley’s stylish regatta was a cut too much.

It wasn’t as though she’d particularly wanted to go this year. It had been a casual assumption she’d join them and truthfully the alternative was worse. No one wanted to spend a birthday alone. She felt the hot prick of emotion behind her eyes and brushed away such foolish weakness with her hand.

Hell. This was embarrassing. In front of Hugh. She never cried. Certainly not over a lack of dresses or money. Just today she felt unbelievably lonely. One small, insignificant little boat cast adrift on a very big sea.

Hugh quietly passed her his handkerchief. She glanced up at him, surprised. His expression was soft and, for once, he wasn’t smiling. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘It’s not that. Not exactly. I’m just…well, I don’t know. Missing Mum, I suppose.’ It was true. Her birthday, her mum and Henley Regatta were all firmly entwined in her memory. When first Luke and then Seb had rowed here their mum had loved coming to watch them. Been so proud. Amy sniffed into the hanky. On certain days, on her birthday, the pain of being without her was still very raw.

Hugh didn’t say anything. Instead he put his arm around her tense shoulders and pulled her into his hard, lean body. She could smell his distinctive aftershave and feel his comforting warmth. Just being held by him made her feel better. Not small or insignificant any more. Nonsense, of course. He was just being kind.

‘Did anyone remember your birthday?’ Hugh asked softly as she relaxed into him.

She blew her nose in a small, defiant gesture. ‘Of course. I’m not completely unpopular.’ She could feel his fingers inadvertently touching her hair. He didn’t know, didn’t have any idea of how being with him was making her feel.

‘I wasn’t suggesting—’

She rushed on. ‘Some of my friends from uni sent me cards. So did your mother, actually. She always sends a card because it’s the same day as your aunt Mary’s in Brighton.’

She could feel the sympathy emanating from him and she didn’t want that. It was galling to have him feel sorry for her. She lifted her chin a little higher. ‘And Dad and Lynda sent me a cheque for my birthday.’

‘Enough to clear your debts?’

Amy let her laughter bubble up. ‘Hardly. Enough to buy a few centimetres of the silk in your girlfriend’s dress. Richard bought me these,’ she said, pushing back her hair to show the twisted gold knots in her ears. ‘They match the necklace he gave me at Christmas.’

‘They’re beautiful.’ And then, ‘I’m sorry about your birthday. We both are, aren’t we, Seb?’

She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does. I can’t believe I didn’t remember,’ Seb said with real bemusement.

It was funny to watch him. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter so much. With a half-laugh, half-sniff, she finally tucked Hugh’s handkerchief into her cardigan pocket. ‘I’d better wash this before I give it back to you.’ She put her hand out to catch Seb’s. ‘You never do remember. Not since Mum died and there’s been no one to remind you. Come on, let’s get this picnic sorted.’

Picnic was scarcely the word to describe what she’d put together. By the time they’d assembled everything onto tables covered with starched linen tablecloths it looked more like something from a film about an Edwardian shooting party than anything twenty-first century.

‘I can’t believe I got you to do this on your birthday,’ Seb remarked as he carried a large Brie to the table. ‘Damn! I forgot the keys.’

‘What?’ she asked, taking it from him.

He didn’t answer her, turning back to Hugh. ‘The folding chairs are in the back of Jasper’s Bristol. I’ll have to walk back and get his keys. Stay and help Amy with the drinks.’

Amy calmly made more space on the table for the cheese. ‘There’s a crate of wine on the passenger seat,’ she said, indicating back to Seb’s MG, ‘and that’s it, really. We’re done. Do you want to walk back and find Calantha?’

‘I’ll stay and talk to you,’ Hugh said, carrying the crate out of the low-slung car and putting it down beneath the shade of the tree. ‘They won’t be long.’

‘No.’

‘Do you want a glass of wine now?’

‘Why not?’ she agreed, looking about her for somewhere to sit. There wasn’t anywhere obvious. The ground was still very damp from the morning rain. She rummaged about in the boot to pull out the plastic sheeting Seb used to protect it. ‘We’ll have to sit on this until Seb gets back with the keys.’

Hugh picked up the corkscrew and carelessly lifted a bottle of white wine from the crate. His movements were so smooth and unconscious it looked as if he opened a bottle every day of his life. He probably did, Amy thought, spreading the sheet out. Not for him would there be little bits of cork floating in the wine.

She sat down with her back against the broad trunk of the horse-chestnut tree and shut her eyes against the image of Hugh.

‘You look tired,’ he remarked as he handed her a glass.

‘I am.’ Her fingers tingled at the slight contact of his.

Surely she’d outgrown this? She was so foolish to allow herself to be affected by Hugh Balfour. He had a girlfriend who could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine about to join them any minute. And that wasn’t unusual. He always had some impossibly beautiful woman in his life. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Men like Hugh Balfour went for long slithers of women who looked great in clothes and made other men envy them. Witness Calantha. They did not, she reminded herself forcefully, go for height-challenged women whom they’d known since before adolescence.

And that was just as well. She couldn’t cope with Hugh. She wasn’t resilient enough. ‘Seb and I loaded up the car this morning at about five. I’m not used to those hours any more.’