Page 24 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

The foyer was large and modern, belying the quaint exterior of the hotel. Kate’s heels echoed across the floor and she nodded to the girl on the reception desk as she headed through the bar into the champagne lounge. The place was quite busy, residents and guests lounging on the comfy sofas and chairs, indulging in one of the nicest pleasures there is — a crisp, cold, bubbly glass of champagne.

Only one of the banquette areas had the silky, silver curtain closed and Kate grinned. Knowing her brother—

‘Good evening, Thomas,’ she said as she pulled the curtain back.

‘Katie!’ Tom sat there, half-cut already on fine champagne and smiling at her in genuine pleasure. He was the only one who ever called her Katie. ‘How did you know I was here? I was hidden so very, very well.’

‘Not well enough.’ She slid into the booth and leaned over to kiss him. ‘You’re hairy. What happened?

‘I forgot my razor.’ Tom rubbed his fingers across his strawberry-blonde beard and frowned. ‘Never got round to buying one. So — you didn’t answer me. How did you know it was me?’

‘I guessed. It was the only one closed and there was only one shadow behind it.’

The curtains were quite translucent and gauzy. Tom was thin and rangy, all arms and legs. She’d seen his shape behind the curtain and knew he was always early for his appointments. Plus, he had quite a sense of humour and would have enjoyed hiding out in there. He also liked to factor in plenty of time — so she knew he’d be here already. And he was really good at keeping in touch, so if he was going to be late, he would have told her. It was hardly rocket science. Whatever, it was good to see him.

‘Chris is going to be late,’ Kate informed Tom.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘I’m saying nothing.’ He pushed a glass towards her. ‘Here, have some champagne.’

Kate knew Tom’s opinion of Chris. Her own was pretty close to Tom’s right now, in fact. She reached out and took the glass, glugging back a huge mouthful. The bubbles fizzed and burst in her mouth and damn, it was good.

Tom leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s not like you see each other regularly. He could make the effort.’

Kate sort of agreed, but then, giving him the benefit of the doubt, they were both busy people. Busy in different ways. Her job was hardly as high pressure as Chris’s, but she still had responsibilities and customers to keep happy.

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Kate said, defensively. ‘You’re showing no signs of settling down. You’re not making any effort to see anybody.’

‘My point exactly,’ replied her brother. ‘It’s much better for me just to enjoy the moment. No commitment, no regrets and no promises.’

‘Listen to Lothario Howard.’ She was faintly offended by his comments. He’d had a brief fling with Cassie, and it had ended as all his relationships did — on good terms, and with no malice.

‘I’ve had no complaints,’ Tom poured another glass of champagne and topped up her glass as well. ‘Like I said, no promises. They know what the boundaries are when they walk into it.’

‘You are a vile human being.’ Kate sighed. ‘What if someone was treating me like that? You’d not think they were a nice person, now, would you?’

‘No.’ Tom sipped his champagne thoughtfully. ‘But then, you would have been given the facts before the very first kiss, so . . .’ He shrugged and she knew he had a point.

‘Well I know the facts about Chris and it’s shit but I’m a bit stuck tonight.’ She hoped to end the conversation there. ‘Now, tell me about your travels.’

‘Ah! Yes — it’s fascinating. You see . . .’

And he was off. Her brother was like a wind-up toy. Set him going on his favourite topics — himself and his research — and he’d talk for hours. Kate only half-listened to him, as always, and instead let her attention wander around the champagne lounge.

The room had, she suspected, been part of a house originally, but she wasn’t sure which room it might have been. She squinted a little bit, trying to imagine it without the stunning furnishings and the guests and the quirky champagne-themed graffiti on the ceiling. In fact, she leaned her head back to read some of the quotes better, and then sat upright again when she felt herself drifting off to sleep. An empty stomach, champagne, a two hour plus drive from Suffolk, a taxi ride for nigh on half an hour across London — she was done in . . .

Chapter Nine

Great Cumberland Place had been awfully like that street she’d visited with her brother Charles a few months after her accident.

The carriage had drawn up in front of a huge Georgian terraced house and she looked at it curiously. Charles slipped out the door and held it open for her.

‘This is rather nice,’ she said. ‘It’s a shame we weren’t here for the Season this year — damned broken leg. I missed being in London. I missed the parties.’

‘Cat!’ Charles was shocked. ‘You’ve been spending too long with that blacksmith. You can’t walk into a place like this and use language like that.’

‘I’m having difficulty walking anywhere,’ she moaned, easing herself out of the carriage into Charles’s arms. He set her down gently onto the pavement and steadied her, then took her arm and guided her slowly across the pavement. ‘I swear I’m still limping.’ They’d had to abandon the Bath chair today, as it didn’t fit into the carriage. She was starting to get annoyed with it anyway and would have been quite happy if it had rolled away down a hill and ended up in the Thames.

‘You are still limping,’ said Charles. ‘Any fool can see that. But it takes time. You were lucky it’s healing as well as it is. Now here we go — this is my friend Edward Mountfort’s house. You remember him, of course—’