Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
T hat evening, I closed my curtains and fired on my table lamps.
I wanted to call Marcus back. It was only just after 10pm and I felt guilty I hadn’t taken his call earlier but I had been preoccupied making dinner. I’d also still been stewing over what had happened with Ezra. At least Zach hadn’t appeared today, but that in itself was troubling me. I wondered what on earth he might be up to.
Marcus answered after a few rings.
I sank down onto my sofa and stretched out my legs. My toes uncurled themselves and I sighed under my breath.
“So, what’s your latest news?” I let out a snort. “Tell me something funny. Mum hasn’t roped you into baking again for the Women’s Institute, has she?”
He didn’t reply. There was an odd gulping noise down the line. “When did you last speak to Mum and Dad?”
“A few days ago. Mum was trying to talk me into coming down for a visit. She said I’ve got to move on from what happened with Declan and I think I’m slowly beginning to now?—”
“Well, I think it’s sodding ridiculous!” he erupted. “Ok, he was a tosser and he hurt you, but you can’t live like a bloody nun for the rest of your life.”
My eyes widened at my brother’s harsh words.
“You loved him and we can’t help who we fall in love with, but you can’t hide in Heather Moore forever.”
“I’m not hiding,” I snapped back. “I’ve been taking stock and trying to move on. And I miss all that vacuous, constant partying like a hole in the head.” I let out a laugh. “It’s all right for you though, all loved up with the gorgeous Jacob. I’d rather get a puppy than get involved with someone else again.”
I gave a theatrical shudder.
Marcus wasn’t saying anything.
“Marcus? Are you ok?”
I shot forward at the sound of my older brother’s voice suddenly cracking.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” My imagination took off like a rocket from a launch pad.
Marcus was struggling to compose himself. “It’s Jacob,” he managed after a few moments.
“What about Jacob? Oh God, what’s happened?”
There was a splinter in his voice as he spoke. “It’s over.”
“What?”
“The engagement’s off. Jacob’s finished with me.”
I couldn’t believe it.
It didn’t make any sense.
Marcus and Jacob were the epitome of a serious, loved-up couple. They were often on the verge of finishing each other’s sentences. They would take off on their bikes together for hours, with cute picnics and matching outfits. Dad would often joke that if you weren’t constantly seeing them together in the same room, you’d start to wonder if they were the same person.
They met three years ago, when Marcus was allocated Jacob’s environmental enterprise account at the marketing firm where he works.
From the moment he met him, I’d never seen my brother so happy.
I jumped up from the sofa, struggling to take in Marcus’s news. “But why? What happened?”
There were a few heartbroken gulps down the line.
“I never saw it coming,” he managed in a small voice. “Everything’s been great, or at least I thought it was. Then, out of nowhere, he came home earlier this afternoon and told me we need to talk.”
Marcus sniffed. “Jacob told me to sit down while I was in the middle of preparing dinner. Then he just came out with it,” he gulped. “He said he’d been thinking about things for a while now and had changed his mind about getting married.”
I paced up and down my sitting room. If Jacob Geddes were in front of me right now, he would be bent double and nursing two very red and swollen testicles. “I just don’t understand, though. Where’s this come from? Have you two had an argument?”
“No. That’s the thing. I can’t comprehend any of it.”
Random questions loomed in my head. “Look, I hate to ask this, but do you think there might be someone else involved?”
Marcus admitted that thought had occurred to him too. “I did ask him that, but he denied it. He said his business is really taking off and it wouldn’t be fair on me if we went ahead with the wedding.”
Fury festered inside my chest. “How very magnanimous of him.”
I wanted to bundle my brother up in my arms right now and tell him everything would be all right. “Do Mum and Dad know?”
“Yes,” answered Marcus, clearing his throat. “I called them as soon as Jacob had packed an overnight bag and left the flat. He said he was going to crash at a friends for a few days.”
“How did they take it?”
Marcus sniffed into my ear again. “They came over straight away. Mum was quite pragmatic about the whole thing, though. Plenty more handsome fish in the sea, she said. Dad wouldn’t stop hugging me and said he wanted to go and punch him.”
Marcus let out a wounded sigh.
“Mum and Dad said they’d stay over tonight, but I assured them I’d be all right. I want some space and couldn’t face the thought of endless questions and conducting a post-mortem over it.”
It was as if I could hear my brother’s addled brain struggling to make sense of it from here. “We were looking to get married next spring, sis. We’d even started looking at wedding venues.”
My teeth ground together as his voice collapsed again.
“Right, Marcus. I’m not debating the matter with you, ok? I want you to pack some things and come and stay here with me for a few days.”
“But my job, Anastasia!”
“I thought you said to me the other week that you had some leave due.”
He went quiet. “Well … yes, technically I do. I haven’t taken any holiday for a good couple of months, as things have been so hectic.”
“Well then. Ring the agency first thing tomorrow and explain to that boss of yours, Paul, what’s happened. Didn’t you say he and Jenna broke up recently?”
“Yes. They split a couple of months back.”
“There you are then. Paul will understand how you’re feeling.”
I ramped up my powers of persuasion. “And you can work from home here if you need to. You’ve said yourself often enough how much stuff you get done on your laptop when you’re out of the office.”
I could hear my brother’s husky voice beginning to weaken.
“Come on. A change of scene will do you good. You need a break. Especially now.”
My appeals were met with silence for a few moments.
“You need a breather. Stop being so stubborn.”
“Ha. That’s ironic coming from you, little sister.”
There was an agonised sigh and a few more beats of silence. “Ok,” he muttered, sniffing down the line. “You win. I’ll pack a few bits and ring Paul before I set off for yours tomorrow.”
* * *
The next day saw chilly, intermittent November downpours, which drove extra customers into Flower Power for refuge.
Locals let out discernible sighs of relief as the warm, twinkling interior of the shop, festooned with the sweet scent of flowers, welcomed them in. I’d also strategically placed pretty bowls of festive cranberry and fig potpourri around the place.
Flower Power was well and truly easing into Christmas, with two stout fir trees, decorated with gold lights and festooned with ribbons, standing either side of the shop door. Amber and Rowan had strung more matching fairy lights along the edges of the shelves, around the door and along the counter, together with some thick, golden tinsel.
All I had to do now was finalise my ideas for the shop window display. I’d decided to go with the white, cream, and gold ice palace theme. I had more time to work on that now that Ezra had cancelled his agreement with me, I concluded with an internal sigh.
I’d ordered some reels of crepe paper to use in the display from the local stationers, so I jumped in my van and shot down to the other end of town to collect it.
No sooner had I thanked Mrs Appleby and was negotiating the wodges of crêpe paper out of the door, than I almost collied with the tall, dark, and looming shape of Zach.
Oh, not again! Was he following me?
Zach stuffed his hands into his long coat pockets. “You look like you’re struggling there.”
“Not at all,” I puffed, hoping I didn’t trip over the pavement and land arse over head in front of him. “They aren’t that heavy.” I angled myself past him. “Doing some shopping, are we?”
He flexed a brow. “No, doing my job.”
Of being a pain in the neck , I grunted to myself.
I willed my van to move closer, but it sat there in all its pink and white glory further up the kerb. “Ha. Allow me,” he announced, before sweeping the fat rolls of crêpe paper out of my arms and into his.
I was ready to protest, but he just strode on ahead with them, like they weighed nothing.
His mouth trembled, as he approached my van, clutching the crêpe paper. “I take it this sporty little number is yours?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
I cranked open the back of the van and he slid the rolls inside.
I banged the doors shut again. He was towering over me, all black hair and blazing eyes. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. See you again soon.”
And with that, he sauntered back off along the pavement.
* * *
My laptop was set up on the counter as I scrolled through my inbox, in between dealing with customers, after I arrived back from the stationery shop.
A new email flickered up on the screen, taking me by surprise, although given what had happened, it shouldn’t have been unexpected.
Hi Bailey,
Hope all is well with you.
I’m Corrie Hardwick, assistant to Ezra King’s manager, Densie Gold.
This is just to confirm that after careful consideration, Mr King has decided not to proceed with your floristry services for his home, nor for his private party on 31 December.
I realise this must be a great disappointment to you, but I understand it is not unexpected due to recent circumstances.
We will, however, be more than happy to compensate you for any time you’ve already spent working on the floral displays.
Look forward to hearing from you soon.
Best,
Corrie
Sublime Entertainment Management Agency
A heavy feeling lodged itself in my stomach.
Well, that was his prerogative.
My head was jammed with memories of what I’d been through with the press. Ezra wanted what I wanted; a peaceful existence; a chance to breathe and re-set. And yes, I didn’t want Zach finding out about who I was. Was that so much to ask?
My mobile buzzed under the counter. It was a text from Marcus, saying he was on his way, the traffic on the motorway was slow but steady and he estimated he would arrive within the hour.
I dashed a reply back, promising to have the kettle on for his arrival and told him to take it easy. I was looking forward to having him come and stay. It would be nice to have his tall, rangy, brotherly presence around the place for a few days.
Thoughts about Ezra and the niggling worry over Zach lurking around made me feel off-kilter. Boy, I needed my big brother right now, every bit as much as he needed me.
Forty-five minutes later, Marcus arrived.
He carried a leather holdall in one gloved hand and his laptop case in the other.
His skin was pale and his light brown hair was damp from the weather.
I hurried towards him and scooped him into my open arms. Marcus didn’t say a word. He just clung to me in a cloud of citrus-scented bodywash. I took a step back and held him at arm’s length. Lack of sleep was evident in his puffy, powder-blue eyes.
“I parked round the back,” he said in a faltering voice. “I hope that’s ok.”
I nodded and squeezed his arm. “That’s fine.”
I studied him. “What would you like to do first? Do you want me to give you the spare key to the flat and you can go upstairs and have a lie down? You look like you could do with some sleep.”
“You know how to boost my morale.”
“You’re still handsome, even during a personal crisis.” I paused. “I’ve made up the bed in the spare room.”
Marcus gave a weak smile. “I know I look like crap, but I don’t feel tired. Can’t I just stay down here in Flower Power with you for a little bit?”
I patted his gloved hand. He was dressed in his heavy navy coat. “You do whatever you want.”
I lowered my voice. “Just remember when we have company around, that my name’s Bailey, ok?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Your life is like some bloody soap opera.”
“Please.”
“Ok. Ok.”
Marcus deposited his holdall and laptop behind the counter for now, while Amber returned from my office with a spare chair. I’d explained to her that my brother was coming to stay following a painful breakup and I’d say the same to Rowan when she arrived for the afternoon shift. I didn’t want them interrogating him and opening up fresh wounds while he was trying to heal.
Amber offered Marcus a kind smile before insisting he have a cup of tea.
“She seems really sweet,” Marcus commented, as Amber wobbled off in her platform fur-lined boots to make a fresh pot.
“She’s a gem. A bit of a chatterbox, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.”
“And the other girl? How’s she working out?”
“You mean Rowan? She’s fantastic too. A real asset.”
Marcus tried to push out a smile. Perched on that chair, his shoulders hunched, he was like a shadow of his usual self.
Marcus fluttered his right hand. “You don’t have to stand over me and watch me. You do what you have to do. I’m fine here.”
I noticed that his scalloped gold engagement band was missing from his left hand.
Amber returned with a tray of steaming mugs of tea and we all sipped in silence.
“I can take a bit of time off while you’re here,” I said to Marcus. “I do have a bridal bouquet and two birthday orders I’m working on, and I need to order the ornaments for the Christmas wreaths, but that’s not a problem.”
Marcus shook his weary head again. “Stop mollycoddling me! I’m fine.”
I started to insist again that I wanted to spend some time with him, when the shop door flew open, bringing with it Zach Stern.
Bugger. I knew he’d reappear at some point, but not just after I saw him earlier when I was struggling with the crêpe paper and he’d been taking the mickey out of my van.
Standing there with the shards of heavy Heather Moore rain pelting down behind him, he reminded me of some wild, historical hero who’d just made his way across windswept moors to declare passionate love for a willowy heroine.
His black hair was flopping forward, looking damp but inviting.
What I was about to say to Marcus dried up in my throat as my gaze collided with Zach’s.
An odd feeling zipped through me. He looked delectable.
Oh no. No. Absolutely not.
He was the enemy. He was the Kryptonite to my Superman. And what had I promised myself? That I wouldn’t get involved with anyone again. I could only trust myself. It was the safest way.
I raised my chin, annoyed that my ears were morphing into a bright shade of pink. “Good afternoon, Mr Stern. How can I help you?”
My attention strayed to Marcus. I noticed one of his brows had arched up towards his hairline. He was watching the two of us as though he’d stumbled across an intriguing thriller on Netflix .
Amber was trying not to make it obvious she was observing everything too, even though she was supposed to have gone to tidy up the stock room for me.
Zach flashed me a long look. “Oh, I’m sure you can help me, Ms McArthur. Whether or not you will is another matter.” He took a few slow, deliberate steps towards me. “I’d appreciate a quick chat.”
I tried to look nonchalant. “About what?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his long, stylish coat. “I’d prefer to talk in private, if that’s all right.”
I looked at Marcus, mentally willing Zach Stern and his beautiful dark eyes to bugger off back to Glasgow. “But my brother has just arrived for a visit and I’m afraid we’re busy catching up.”
Zach meandered casually away, as though he was browsing the Christmas wreath selection.
Marcus pulled an irritated expression and whispered, “I’m not five, Anastasia!” He jerked his head at Zach and continued to speak in hushed tones. “You go and do what you have to do with Mr Hottie over there.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Zach. Heat rose up my neck. “I don’t have to do anything with him. He’s a right pain in the arse.”
“I’ll keep an eye on your brother,” insisted Amber. “He’ll be fine.”
Marcus pulled a sarcastic face. “Hello? I’m sitting right here, you know.”
He appraised Zach approvingly. “I know I’m off men,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, “and they’re all utter bastards and selfish arses, but…”
“But what?”
Zach was now perusing a couple of my yucca plants, unaware he was the sole topic of conversation.
“But that one’s delicious!”
“Marcus!” I insisted. “It’s not like that. I mean, there’s nothing… He’s an arrogant tit! I can’t stand the man.”
Amber giggled. “Then why have you gone red, boss?”
“No, I haven’t.”
My brother peered at me. “Yes, you have. I could fry an egg on your cheeks.”
I faffed and flustered at the counter. “I haven’t a clue what you two are on about.”
I turned and bathed Zach in what I hoped was a cool smile. He abandoned his browsing of the nearby Christmas plants and strode back over. “Come with me, Mr Stern,” I said grudgingly.
He pinned me to the spot for a moment, his expression indecipherable. “Please, call me Zach.”
I blinked back at him. “Oh. Right.” I cleared my throat. I didn’t want to appear rude or give him any glimmer of suspicion about me. “Well, in that case, call me Bailey.” Was this some sort of awkward truce? Or was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? Make me think we’d hit some sort of understanding, when in fact, he wanted to bleed me dry of any information I might have?
I led the way towards my office and made a point of saying to Amber and Marcus that I wouldn’t be long. I had to stay on alert. It was mentally exhausting, but it had to be done.
I eased open my office door and encouraged him to go first. “I don’t know how you think I can help you, Mr Stern. Er, I mean, Zach.”
He gave me a withering look. “I can’t help it if I’m an eternal optimist.”
I scowled at him and shut my office door. Smart arse!
“So that was your brother?” he asked, all long legs and broad shoulders as he sat down opposite my desk.
“Yes.”
Zach seemed to be waiting for me to give him a little more information, but there was no way I was doing that. The less information he had about me and my family, the better.
Zach folded his arms, his gaze travelling over my face. I found myself shuffling in my seat. I instructed myself to sit still.
The man is an arrogant cretin!
Yes, oozed an inner voice. But a very handsome one with come-to-bed eyes.
For something to do, I snatched up a pen from my desk and twiddled it around and around in my hands, trying not to think about bed and Zach.
“It’s nice that he’s visiting you.”
“It would be, were it under different circumstances.”
A questioning look lit up in his eyes. Ah. Ever the journalist.
“Is everything all right? Can I help?”
“What, by writing about it?”
Zach cocked a brow. “Ouch. That hurt.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. He kept staring at me with an expectant look on his face.
God, he was good. Quite easy to talk to, if you ignored the self-satisfied smile. I let out a resigned sigh. I knew I shouldn’t be confiding in him, but those dark, inviting eyes were hypnotic.
Jesus!
Zach tilted his head to the side.
I tried to refocus. “Relationship heartache.”
Zach looked solemn. “Sorry to hear that. How’s he doing?”
“Not great. He’s doing what he always does when he has a problem; putting on a brave face.”
Zach’s gaze misted over for a few seconds before it hardened.
“He’ll get over it. If you ask me, folks would be better off concentrating on the things that really matter, not relationships. They never work out.”
Ouch. His blunt tone made me blink. “Well, speak your mind, why don’t you?”
Zach gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m just being honest. You’re far better off relying on yourself. No risk of getting hurt.” He hesitated. “Or hurting someone else.”
Blimey. He didn’t believe in sugar-coating, did he? “What other things should people focus on?” I asked. He sounded just like me. “Their career?”
Zach’s jaw clenched. “Absolutely. Far more rewarding. Relationships are overrated.”
He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve dropped by about a couple of new tip-offs I’ve received.”
Zach’s voice made me refocus. “About what? Ezra King again?”
He raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. “No. Well, at least one of them is.”
“Oh?”
He pulled a brief smile.
Confusion burrowed in my chest. What the hell was going on?
I stared over my desk at him. “So, what’s this all about?”
Zach lasered me with his black-lashed eyes. “Firstly, I’ve been told by a very reliable contact that Ezra King has two daughters by two different high-profile women. But he doesn’t know they exist.”
My stomach exploded in a swarm of worried butterflies. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Surely Caroline and Laura hadn’t been going around telling everyone?! Oh God. Did that mean they were scammers after all? Had I been about to be duped by them as well? Anger and disappointment began to flare up inside me.
“Really?” I croaked. “Sounds like something you’d see on daytime TV.” I paused, trying to couch my words. “How did you come by that information? Did you bump into these two ‘high-profile’ women in the street or something?” I was mentally willing it not to be the girls themselves who’d told him. I was weary of being sceptical of people and wanted to be proved wrong.
Zach arched one brow. “A friend of a friend in the showbiz management world.”
“Right.” I heaved an inward sigh of relief. Ok, it wasn’t definitive evidence that Caroline and Laura were genuine, but at least it didn’t seem they’d been the ones blabbing to journalists about their possible connection to Ezra.
Zach leant forward in his chair. I could make out his shadow of dark stubble. “My editor, Adam, was tipped off yesterday.” Light flashed in his dark eyes. “If I can get exclusives on both of these stories, it’ll give a huge boost to my journalistic career.”
“Bully for you,” I ground out.
Zach gave me a look.
“And then there’s the other thing.” He paused. “Adam was at an editors’ lunch yesterday in Glasgow and he said there was some drunk guy hanging about outside the hotel. He got Adam’s attention by fawning all over him and saying how wonderful Stargazer magazine is. He’d obviously done his homework. Then he told Adam he was once in a relationship with a Scottish aristo party girl.”
I sat up straighter, as though someone had just fired an electrified current through my whole body.
No. It couldn’t be. It was too much of a coincidence.
The breath felt trapped in my throat.
“Adam said he was a right scruffy individual and didn’t look the type to be marrying someone like that.” Zach carried on talking, while the panicked buzzing in my ears got louder. “But he said this guy sounded genuine.”
I licked my lips. “And?”
Zach steepled his hands in his lap. “The guy told Adam he’d sell his story. Adam said he was wittering and slurring, and he could smell the booze off his breath, but this guy insisted he almost married her but got cold feet at the last minute.”
Cold feet? The lying, cheating bastard! He’s a crook!
My heart charged against my ribs so hard, I thought it was going to burst. Was Declan going to risk telling a lot of lies to the press? He was the one who left me at the altar, so to speak. Ok, I dodged a bullet, but that lying toad ran off with the money I gave him. It should be me who was talking to the press about him if anything. Not that I would ever do that.
Aware that Zach was studying me, I forced my expression into a neutral, calm one.
“So, a drunk guy accosts your editor in the street, claiming he was engaged to some aristocrat. So what?” I said.
Zach shrugged. “I know what you mean, but Adam said there might be a good story in it and the guy did seem the real deal. Claims that his ex is living somewhere in this area, but she’s trying to keep under the radar.” Zach’s eyes shone. “If I’m lucky, I might be able to get a double exclusive: Ezra King and the Bollinger Babe.”
My insides shuddered at the name the press labelled me with. “Sounds scintillating,” I said dryly.
Zach’s mouth twitched. “You’d be surprised at the appetite for this kind of thing,’ he said.
“Really?” I said, as though it wasn’t the entire reason I’d changed my name and my appearance, to get away from the gossipmongers and the pack of press dogs.
“Must be something in the water around these parts,” Zach went on. “Adam and I did think it odd that Heather Moore cropped up again, but there’s been a few instances recently, of celebrities buying boltholes in more remote parts of the country.” He gave an easy shrug. “But hey … as long as there’s a good story, I’m not going to quibble.”
My stomach clenched. How the hell had Declan found out about me being here? Who’d told him?
I bit back a ball of bile in my throat. Morbid fascination was tightening its grip on me and I couldn’t shake it off. More than one life looked like it was verging on implosion. Who would be first? Ezra or me?
“Do you have a name for this drunken character?” My office walls were suffocating me, crushing my chest and pressing down. The Christmas fairy lights and tinsel I’d strung up on the walls were burning my eyes.
Oblivious to the panic ripping through me, Zach pushed his hands into his coat pockets. “The guy was about to give Adam more details, but a couple of cops moved him on. He thinks the man might’ve said his name was Sean but like I said, he was very pissed, in a state and not all that coherent.”
My mouth dried up. It must be Declan. Sean was his middle name. It was all about the money. It always was with him. He was obsessed by it. He must be desperate when he was crawling out from wherever he’d been hiding. Obviously, he was prepared to take a risk to get his hands on more cash. That was his aim in life.
Zach gave a sarcastic smile. “It happens more than you think, this sort of thing; desperate folks approaching us, trying to cash in on non-existent stories for their fifteen minutes of fame.”
Zach’s hypnotic, dark brown eyes shone with determination. “But Adam said the guy insisted his ex was that Bollinger Babe party girl who the tabloids nicknamed a few years back.”
My mouth opened and closed. I gripped the edge of my desk. My knuckles morphed into blobs of anxious white.
I was fighting to speak. Thoughts were tumbling through my mind. The first being what the hell was Declan’s game here?
This was quickly followed by messy, painful memories of our relationship and how it ended.
Though my brain was working overtime, nothing was coming out of my mouth, except for random bursts of panicked air.
Zach began to fiddle with his phone while he was talking to me from the other side of my desk.
Oh God, please don’t let him find a picture of me!
My cheeks were flaming. Any minute now he was going to notice.
Right. Take a breath. Try to stay calm.
I let out a strangled cough. All my fears were coming true. Would I never escape the past?
My fingers knotted and tumbled over each other as I sat there. “So, you don’t have a lead on her then?”
Zach jabbed at his phone screen and flashed me a glance as he scrolled up and down the screen. “Our Lady Anastasia seems to have vanished into thin air. Talk about lying low. We’ve run some checks and investigated social media but she doesn’t use that any more. She hasn’t posted on any of them for a good couple of years.” Zach sat up straighter. “She might think she’s able to hide, but not for much longer. I’m asking around.”
Zach eyed me. “I’m telling you all this, in the hope you might know someone who can help us locate her or who might have some information. It would be worth their while.” My spine stiffened. My office walls were squeezing the breath from my chest harder and faster, like that famous scene in Indiana Jones . To my own burning ears, my voice was a hoarse, harried mess. Hearing Zach say my real name, was like hearing a ringing in my ears. “About her being here in Heather Moore?”
Zach pushed his phone back into his coat pocket. “Yes. Gotta start somewhere and Adam said that guy was insistent she might be basing herself around here now.”
“He was hammered,” I insisted, trying not to sound panicked. “Not sure he’d know what day of the week it was, let alone be a reliable source of information. And anyway, I’m sure someone like her would stick out a mile in a town this size.”
Zach frowned across at me. “You sound very sure about all this, Bailey.”
I flapped my hands. “Well… You know, knowing Heather Moore like I do.”
Zach glanced around at my flower photographs on the office walls and my newly erected Christmas decorations.
My heart iced in my chest. It had been coming, I suppose. It was inevitable. I’d been deluding myself if I thought I could carve out a fresh life for myself here. I’d been lucky to have six months hassle-free.
Zach’s voice dragged me back. “Well, people slip up at some point. They make a silly mistake and leave a trail. It’s human nature.”
My whirring thoughts were freewheeling around my head and refusing to stop. Declan Rooney’s evil shadow was still following me around. What was he trying to do? What did he hope to achieve? Duh! Silly question. Money.
It sounded like his music “career” was a no-go, if he was stumbling around the city streets, drunk. Not content with what he stole from me for the imaginary music foundation, now he was back for more.
And how the hell had someone found out about me being here? I’d tried to be as careful as I could, but that couldn’t have been enough. I’d been a tabloid it-girl; the partying aristo. I’d been in so many newspapers and magazines. Had someone local recognised me and blabbed? I’d been deluding myself, if I thought I could start again.
I made a show of noting something else imaginary down. My fingers trembled as they gripped the pen. “The poor woman probably just wants to live quietly and start over. Isn’t she entitled to that?”
“Of course she is, but when there’s a potential human-interest story like this, it deserves to be told.”
“Does it? Whose interest?” I bit back. “Hers or yours?”
Zach’s eyes shone back at me. He angled his head to one side. “You seem very interested.”
I whirled my pen around and around. I tried to make my voice sound airy. Every word I was saying sounded brittle. “Heather Moore isn’t exactly a throbbing metropolis.”
“Precisely. So, it could well appeal. Somewhere inconspicuous to live her life. It makes sense.”
My heart revved up so hard against my ribs, I thought they would splinter.
A steely edge gripped Zach’s handsome features. “When it comes to a story, I’m never deterred.”
I dropped my gaze and rattled my pen on my desk for something to do. It spun this way and that on the polished wood. If I continued to fiddle with the pen any longer, it was in danger of exploding ink everywhere. This was agony.
Zach eyed me from across my desk. “In my line of work, dogged determination is everything, as is telling the truth.”
I set my pen down. “And does that go for blowing apart people’s lives too?”
“It depends what they’ve done. If you’re talking about exposing the rich and powerful for being manipulative and behaving like they’re above the law, you mean? Yes.”
I unscrambled what was going on inside my head. My cheeks stung.
“So, this guy told you he was going to dish some dark secrets, did he?” I asked. “Has it occurred to you he might be lying? That he just wants to make some money?”
Zach smiled. “Sure, he could be lying. I mean no one really knows why the marriage didn’t go ahead. Her family’s PR made sure of that.”
“Hmm.” I gave him a fake smile back. “And you’re just assuming that she’s the villain?”
He let out a cynical bark of laughter. “I’d put money on it,” he said. “A lot of folks who live very privileged lives lie and deceive with impunity. They don’t consider anyone but themselves, and they’re not the ones who suffer.”
He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Believe me, I should know.”
This was morphing into a nightmare. Zach couldn’t have got it more wrong, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it without revealing my true identity. I could see my new life evaporating in front of my eyes – and Ezra’s too.
I rose to my feet, my head pummelled by thoughts.
Zach towered over me. “Stories are like buses. Nothing good for ages and then two come along at once.”
“Oh well,” I bit back. “Good to see you’re changing the world one celebrity gossip scandal at a time.”
His eyes never left my face. “You have a very dim view of me.”
I straightened my back.
“I’m a good journalist with an ethical code.”
My eyebrows shot upwards.
“You’re judging me without knowing me. I want to reveal the crooks, the liars, and the cheats. I want to give people a voice who don’t have one. They deserve to be heard loud and clear.”
“By writing about people’s private lives and dragging their names through the mud?”
Zach looked like he wanted to say something else. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “It’s nothing personal. It’s my career.”
I struggled not to be captivated by his eyes, even though he was at risk of upending my entire life. I didn’t want to become an exhibit here. I was happy with how I was moving things on. I didn’t want to be the centre of a pity party or have the locals think I’d deceived them in any way. I didn’t want to be back in the papers, splashed across the pages, having my past dissected and my previous life choices examined. I’d done enough of that myself. I didn’t know what Declan was planning to spill, but it would be a pack of lies.
“I’d appreciate it if you could ask around; keep your eyes and ears open for any snippets of information about our party princess and these two daughters of Ezra King.”
I jerked my attention away from Zach’s scrutiny and shuffled around a few invoices. “Why on earth would I help you?”
Zach jerked open my office door and lingered there. His ink-black hair flopped onto his brow. “Because I helped you this morning with all the crêpe you were carrying.”
“Oh, very funny.”
Zach gave me a shadow of a smile. “You’d receive payment of course, for any valuable tip-offs. Would come in handy, I’m sure, some extra money, seeing as you’ve only been open a few months.”
He hesitated.
“It’s not going to be easy,” he admitted, surprising me with his unusual candour. “Especially if this aristo’s parents have sections of the press in their pockets.” He ground his jaw. “I’ve known for that to happen before. But I don’t give up and I don’t give in, Bailey. On anything.”
I blushed, feeling heat shoot up my neck. Cue more paper flapping.
“See you again soon,” he murmured, his attention lingering on my face.
I watched him stride out of Flower Power in his flapping, long coat. Amber’s admiring eyes trailed after him, while worry took great bites out of me.
* * *
I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the morning.
I faffed around with a couple of birthday bouquets and attempted to come up with something interesting for my suggested “Plants of the Week” for the shop’s social media accounts, but failed. Zach kept drifting into my mind and it unsettled me.
In the end, I used Marcus as my excuse to take an early lunch and disappear back up to my flat.
“Why are you so quiet, A? What’s going on?” asked my brother.
A battle was raging inside of me as to whether I should confide in him.
He had enough to contend with at the moment, nursing his broken heart, without being told that his baby sister might find herself splashed across the newspapers – again – taking with her the rest of the family. Snapshots of their horrified faces loomed in front of my eyes.
Oh God.
Mum would need to lie down in a darkened room for the next three months.
But the other half of me was desperate to offload. Tell him! screamed my inner voice. He has a right to know. He’s your brother.
What if I didn’t confide in Marcus and Zach did unearth everything? My brother wouldn’t forgive me. I knew if the situation were reversed and Marcus found himself caught up in something like this, I’d want to know. If I found out he hadn’t told me, I would be livid.
I eyed his holdall which was currently regurgitating clothes onto the chair in the spare room.
We never kept secrets from one another. When we were younger, we always took the blame for each other’s misdemeanours.
“Anastasia.”
I snapped my attention back to my brother and sighed.
I pushed back any lingering doubts and steeled myself. “I’ve got something to tell you. It’s about Declan.”
Marcus contorted his mouth. “The prick!” His expression grew serious. “Hold on. He’s not here, is he? Has he reappeared? He’s not threatening you?”
“No, well, he’s not here in Heather Moore, or at least I don’t think he is.”
Marcus frowned across the bed at me. “What are you talking about?”
I picked at the bedspread. “It turns out that a drunk, dishevelled Declan accosted the editor of Stargazer magazine the other day in Glasgow. Said his name was Sean. He blabbed that he’d been in a relationship with the Bollinger Babe and almost married her – until he got cold feet.”
With his bright blue eyes growing in his face, Marcus let out a stream of horrified gasps. “Are you joking? Oh shit!”
“And not only that, he also told the editor that he’d heard I was living in this neck of the woods.”
Marcus shot out his hand and seized mine in his. “Jesus, A! What the hell’s been going on here? How did he find out? Did you let slip to anyone by accident?”
I blew out a cloud of worried air. “I haven’t said a word. I’ve tried to be careful.”
“So how much information did that rat Declan give this editor?”
“Not as much as he wanted to, by the sounds of it. He was moved on by the police for making a nuisance of himself.”
Marcus scratched at his chin. “Thank Christ for that.” He hesitated. “But this is still awful!”
I squeezed Marcus’s hand. “I didn’t want to involve you when you’ve got so much going on at the moment, but it’s a total nightmare.”
He shuffled closer. “So, what happens now?” His eyes grew bigger. “Is it that hottie who was in today who’s investigating you?”
My ears prickled with heat. Marcus noticed me squirming.
“Why have you gone so red again?”
“I haven’t gone red. It’s the light in here and the reflection from the duvet cover.”
Marcus looked at me like I was crazy.
“Zach’s editor has told him to investigate Declan’s ramblings and see if there’s any truth in his story. But there’s always the risk that Declan could call the magazine when he’s sober and then I really would be up to my neck in it.”
Fretful tears found their way to the corners of my eyes. “I like my new life here, Marcus. I’ve got Flower Power, my cosy little flat and I feel like I’m finally beginning to move on from Declan and everything that happened.”
We both fell quiet. Then Marcus spoke again. “You’re going to have to tell Mum and Dad.”
“What? No! I don’t want to worry them. It might not come to anything anyway.”
Marcus let out an incredulous laugh and waggled my hand. “Anastasia, Declan is a toerag and he can’t be trusted. Mum and Dad need to know.”
His voice vanished when he picked up on my shame-faced expression. I avoided his gaze and concentrated on the bare trees I could see through the window.
“It’s not fair to keep it from them. Imagine if they opened up a magazine and you’re all over it like you used to be.”
I blew out a cloud of embarrassed air. “I’m not stupid. I know that.”
“Well stop sodding well acting like you are!” His blue eyes blazed out of his handsome, open face. “Zach Stern’s a journalist and a bloody good one, by all accounts.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was curious and looked him up online. And even if that snitch Declan doesn’t remember much after his drunken stupor, there’s still a good chance Zach will find out about you anyway.”
“Zach might be accomplished, but he’s still working for a gossip mag.”
Marcus pulled in his lips. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“He has prestigious journalistic awards as long as Loch Lomond and yet he’s working for a publication like that.” I squinted at my brother. “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird?”
Marcus gave a frustrated shrug. “That’s up to him. Maybe they offered him a telephone number salary? Right now, I’m far more concerned about you.”
I tried to dismiss his worries. “I’ll just have to try and stay one step ahead of Zach.”
Marcus shook his damp hair. “How on earth do you think you can do that?” He toyed with the belt of his dressing gown. “And when exactly do you intend to tell Mum and Dad about all this?”
“I don’t.”
Marcus looked exasperated. “Oh, for pity’s sake! Why not?”
He opened his mouth to protest, but I stopped him. “I will tell them, if the situation demands it, but not right now. It’s safer all round that the fewer people who know what’s going on, the better. I haven’t told Amber or Rowan about who I used to be for the same reason.”
He shot me a disapproving frown.
“Marcus, please. I’m asking you not to say anything to Mum and Dad. Not yet.” I dragged a weary hand down the side of my face. “Please. Just let me handle things for the time being.”
He flicked back a strand of hair. “Ok! Ok! I still think you should tell them, but you know you can trust me.”
“Thank you.” I offered him a small smile. “After all this, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to head straight back home to Edinburgh.”
Marcus was incandescent. “Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving you to deal with this mess on your own!” He stroked the candy-striped bedspread. “I was planning to stay a few days, if that’s ok?”
“You know you can stay with me for as long as you want.”
“Thank you. And anyway, let’s face it, I’ve got nothing to rush back for.”
I didn’t want to push Marcus into talking more about Jacob before he was ready, but I didn’t like the thought of my brother bottling up his emotions either. “You don’t have to go into details yet if you don’t feel like it, but I’m just wondering if Jacob has said any more about why he called the engagement off? It’s just so sudden.”
My brother’s mouth folded downwards. “I haven’t heard from him. I still can’t fathom it either and believe me, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.” He clicked his fingers and flinched. “Our future. Up in smoke. Just like that.”
My eyebrows gathered. It didn’t make sense. “And there were no indications from him that there were problems brewing?”
“Nope.”
He stared past my shoulder, his bright blue eyes dimming again. “Even Mum and Dad were shocked. Mum especially. She said he must’ve realised he wasn’t good enough for me, which is a load of old bollocks of course.” He shook his head. “I mean, it was so thoughtful of Mum and Dad to ask Jacob round the other week for dinner, when I was away at that training course in London. They’ve been so good to him.”
A kernel of suspicion began to grow. That was odd. Mum hadn’t mentioned anything to me. I frowned at him. “You never told me that.”
Marcus dismissed it. “It was no big deal.”
I turned this over in my head. “What day was that? Can you remember?”
Marcus snatched up his mobile beside him and checked his electronic calendar. “It was a week past, Thursday.”
A warning bell clanged in my head. “Are you sure?” I pressed. “Definitely the Thursday?”
Marcus waggled his phone at me. “One hundred per cent. Why?”
I forced my face into a casual expression. “Nothing. Just having random thoughts, that’s all.”
Marcus gave me an odd look, before tossing his phone back onto the bedspread.
Our dad hadn’t been at home at Bannock House that evening. He’d been away overnight with his golfing buddies in St Andrews for their annual soirée. I remembered because I’d called Mum, she hadn’t picked up and so I’d rung Dad instead to say hi and had been serenaded by half a dozen pissed, middle-aged men.
Confusion welled up inside of me. Why would Mum have chosen that night to have invited Jacob round? She would have known Dad wouldn’t be there.
A discomfiting sensation took hold. I felt ashamed for even thinking it, but did Mum know something about Jacob that we didn’t?
Lunchtime swung around and my preoccupied thoughts kept morphing to Declan lurking around in Glasgow.
I couldn’t settle or concentrate on anything.
I felt useless, standing here, while the spectre of my sleazy ex-fiancé kept insisting on haunting me.
I actually thought I was beginning to push him out of my past and now he emerges again, trying to cause havoc.
My hands fiddled with the giant amber- and claret-coloured gerbera bouquet I was creating for Mrs Sweeney’s mother’s ninetieth birthday.
A thought bounced about my head, gathering traction. What if I tried to find Declan? What if I could speak to him? The prospect made my stomach churn, but what else could I do?
I was flinching every time the shop door opened and my bell let out its merry tinkle. Would he try to show up? That was very likely, knowing him. But if I tried to cut him off at the pass? Let him know I was onto him? Would that be a deterrent?
Something told me it might take more than me speaking to him, to have an effect, but surely me doing something was better than doing nothing? There was every chance he’d try to extort money out of me, to keep quiet but I realised I was prepared to take that risk. Too much was riding on this.
Declan might only keep his mouth shut if he did indeed get something in return. He must have been hoping to sell “our story” for a tidy sum, after all.
I eyed my half-eaten cheese and salad sandwich on my plate further up the shop counter. I couldn’t carry on like this, knowing Declan was only a couple of hours’ drive away from my new life here.
I picked up my mug of tea and drained the remainder of it.
Yuck.
It was cold.
I pulled a face and thumped it back down again.
Then I reached for my coat and bag which were hanging on one of the hooks behind me.
I thrust on my coat, refusing to dissect what I was doing in case I changed my mind. “Girls, I’ve got to pop out for a few hours. Could one of you tie up this bouquet for Mrs Sweeney please, with a piece of tangerine satin bow? I’ve just finished it.”
Rowan came striding over. “No problem. I can do that.”
Amber paused as she swept the floor. “Off anywhere nice?”
“Er … just checking out a flower market on the outskirts of Glasgow,” I lied, wrapping my long scarf around my neck and hoisting my bag onto my shoulder. “Now both of you just call me if you have any questions or worries, ok?”
“Sure, but don’t worry,” beamed Rowan. “We’ll be fine.”
“And make sure you both get your lunch––”
I froze as I heard the shop door clatter open behind me.
“Off out, sis? I was going to suggest we take a walk for half an hour, if you can drag yourself away from your blooms.”
Bugger!
Marcus was standing there, buried in a grey woollen scarf and his coat.
“Yes … erm … flower market near Glasgow. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Marcus’s expression brightened a little, which made me feel even worse. “Oh, I’ll tag along then, if you don’t mind. I could do with a break from the laptop––”
“No!” I snapped before I could stop myself, then tried to disguise it with a small laugh. “I mean, no, don’t worry. You stay here and relax. It won’t be exciting for you and it’s a bit of a schlep.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes at me. “Bailey…”
But I was already grinning like a maniac. “See you soon. Bye!”
I banged Flower Power’s door closed and raced round to the rear car park, to jump into the van.