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‘But it’s not your first choice?’
‘First choices don’t take account of what life takes away from you.’
Gabriel nodded quietly, glancing at his watch. ‘Yes. That’s something I’ve learned too. But it’s late and perhaps that’s a story for another night, if I can persuade you to join me for a nightcap again?’
The question raised more questions. Whether midnight, which was theoretically beyond the hours of Clara’s working day, and Gabriel’s study, which was beyond the reach of the cameras, made any difference to their relationship. Strictly speaking, they didn’t, but somehow it felt very different. And whether it might happen again. Saying yes now would open up those possibilities.
‘Yes...maybe... I really should be getting home now, though.’
‘I’ll call you a taxi. Or you can always take the spare room for tonight.’
‘Thanks. I should go home.’
He nodded, seeming to understand that as well. Clara slipped her shoes back on, watching as Gabriel thrust his arms back into his jacket. As if they were getting ready to face the real world again.
‘I’d like to go running in the morning. Or the gym, if that’s easier for you? I’m starting to miss the exercise.’
‘Yes, of course. I can arrange for someone to go with you. Or...would you like to come to my gym? They have training rooms, where I can teach you that arm lock, if you want to learn.’
‘And it’s more secure?’ He grinned at her.
‘It’s local to Gladstone and Sullivan Securities. They know us there, so I’ll be able to pin you to the floor without anyone rushing in to save you.’
Gabriel threw back his head, laughing. ‘Sounds delightful. I’ll be ready whenever you are.’
* * *
Gabriel had allowed himself a lie-in and stayed in bed until nine next morning. It seemed that Clara had too, and instead of her customary eight o’clock arrival, she’d called to say that she’d be there to pick him up at ten.
Gabriel looked at his phone. This was the first time that Clara had called him directly, rather than routing all their communications through the team. He wondered whether he might add her number to his contacts list and decided that he should. Clara Holt. Perhaps he’d also delete everyone else who appeared under ‘C’...
That would be a step too far. Gabriel put his phone into his pocket and went upstairs to change. As expected, Clara arrived on the dot of ten, as fresh as the morning dew that they’d both slept through. A cool, sweet taste that he longed to feel on his lips.
But he’d promised that midnight was a time apart from everything else, and so he neglected to say that she looked particularly appealing, in her leggings and sweatshirt. Their conversation, as the car wound through the London streets, was wholly appropriate and centred mainly around the weather and the rules of Ronnie’s Gym. It seemed that there was only one, which stated that Ronnie’s word was law.
The gym was in one of the newly gentrified areas of the East End, an old building that had undergone a process of cleaning and renovation. The arched windows on the ground floor revealed a gleaming interior fitted out with exercise bikes, some of which were being used. Gabriel had expected something a little more no-nonsense.
The receptionist seemed to know Clara, and opened a combination locked door behind her. Clara led the way up an enclosed staircase, whitewashed bricks on either side.
The first floor was a little more as Gabriel had expected. Scrupulously clean, but without the exercise technology and bright colours of the ground floor. They passed a brick arch, which revealed an array of punchbags and a boxing ring, and Clara knocked on the
open door of an office.
‘Cupcake!’ The woman inside rose. ‘How are you?’
Gabriel fought to keep his face straight. He had no idea what Clara might do to him if he called her Cupcake. But the diminutive, middle-aged woman, dressed in a spotless pink polo shirt and dark blue sweatpants, seemed to have earned that right.
‘I’m good, Ronnie. How are you?’
‘Business is good. My son’s getting married in the autumn. What’s not to like?’ Ronnie craned her neck to give Gabriel an assessing stare.
‘This is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Ronnie.’
Ronnie held out her hand, gripping his with a firm hold. He smiled and Ronnie beamed back at him. Apparently his first name was all that Ronnie required and the presence of one of Clara’s team, standing behind them, didn’t need to be questioned.
‘Don’t let her fool you.’ Ronnie leaned towards him. ‘Clara’s got more up her sleeve than just her handkerchief.’
‘Yes. She’s already made that very clear...’ His answer seemed to be the correct one, and Ronnie chuckled, turning away and handing Clara a key from her desk.
