Chapter 4
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Me? No.’
‘Why not? They’ve booked lunch at The Dove. That’s a Michelin-starred restaurant. It’s his birthday ,’ Nella reminded him.
‘And it isn’t my fault they didn’t sort out a taxi in advance.’
She typed the restaurant’s name into the map on her phone. ‘It’s only five miles from here. Take them instead of driving me to the station.’
‘Look, once you start doing things like that, it never stops. You get taken for granted.’
‘They’re paying to stay in a multimillion-pound property. It wouldn’t kill you to do them a favour. They’d appreciate it so much.’
‘And you’d miss your train.’
‘So? I’ll catch a later one.’
Nick paused, then shook his head. ‘It’s really not my problem.’
The birthday boy was about to make another phone call. Nella jumped out of her chair and waved to attract his attention. ‘Excuse me, but if you need a lift to The Dove, I can get you there.’
The visitors turned in unison to look at her. Red Trousers’ wife said, ‘You have a taxi?’
‘No, I’d have to take you in your car. But I’m insured to drive any vehicle. You’d need to arrange for a cab company to get you back here after your lunch, but if it helps, I’m happy to do that for you.’
‘Whoever you are, I think I love you.’ The birthday boy spread his arms, evidently delighted.
‘Except who is she?’ His wife gave him a hefty dig in the ribs. ‘She could drop us off at the restaurant then we never see her or our car again.’
‘I’m here with Mr Callaghan.’ Nella pointed to Nick. ‘He would have taken you himself but he’s pressed for time, so I’m offering on his behalf. Hi, my name’s Nella Hughes. And happy birthday!’
‘Nella, you’re an angel and a lifesaver.’ Digging into the pocket of his Barbour, the birthday boy took out his car keys. ‘And you’ve got yourself a deal.’
His wife was staring at the purple bruise on her temple. ‘Goodness, however did that happen?’
Probably best not to mention that yesterday she’d crashed her own car into a wall. Nella said diplomatically, ‘Slipped on some ice. But I’m fine, I promise.’ Then she held up the keys and called over to Nick, ‘Just going to drop these nice people at The Dove. You order yourself a coffee and get on with your work. I’ll be back in no time at all.’
‘I still don’t know why you did that,’ said Nick when she returned twenty minutes later.
‘I’m a fixer. When I see a problem, I like to solve it.’ Sliding back onto her chair, Nella said, ‘They wanted to pay me but I wouldn’t allow it.’
‘That’s mad.’
‘Red Trousers’ wife is an interior designer with a quarter of a million followers on Instagram. I told her it was your idea for me to give them a lift. She’s going to rave about your business and tell everyone you’re a star.’
He shook his head. ‘Which means more people expecting to be chauffeured around when they come to stay.’
He really didn’t get it. Nella marvelled at the trick he was missing. ‘They haven’t hired a tent on a campsite. Leaving people to their own devices doesn’t suit everyone.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Go on. You’re dying to say it.’
‘We chatted in the car. They all love where they’re staying. But they’d love it even more if they felt a bit more looked after. You should hire a concierge,’ she explained, ‘to take care of anything they might need. Arrange trips. Buy tickets for the circus. Organise chefs who’ll turn up and cook delicious meals for them. Beauticians, pamper sessions, theatre tickets . . . Whatever they ask for, the concierge can make it happen. And if they can’t get a taxi, they have someone who’ll drive them around too. They just said it’d be great to have someone on site to provide the personal touch. And I think they’re right.’
Nick finished his coffee and signalled to the waitress that he was ready for the bill. The waitress looked confused and Nella said to him, ‘It’s OK, it’s done.’
‘What? Did they pay it?’ He glanced at the car keys on the table.
‘No, I did.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve already done enough for me. The least I can do is buy you lunch. You need to give that key back to them, by the way. If they’re out, leave it in their key safe. Right, are we all done here? Shall we go?’
As they were leaving, a woman in her late forties emerged from the kitchen, evidently having finished her shift and ready to head home. She did a double-take when she saw Nella and said cheerfully, ‘Well I never, look who’s here! Hello, love, how are you?’
‘Esme. You haven’t changed a bit.’ Nella gave her a hug. ‘I’m well, thanks. How are the twins?’
‘Popping out babies like nobody’s business. I’m a granny seven times over! Good to see you, love. It’s been a while. What’s brought you back here?’
‘Just wanted to see Grandpa’s grave, put some flowers down.’ Esme had lived in the village all her life and had worked in the bakery for many years. A woman as warm-hearted as her hugs, she’d slipped Nella a free doughnut on many occasions.
Now she regarded her with fondness. ‘Bless you, love. What a gem of a man Vernon was. You must still miss him so much.’
Nella nodded. ‘I do.’
‘And the cottage has gone, did you hear about that? That beautiful garden of his. At least he wasn’t here to see it happen.’
‘I know.’
‘Grew the best cauliflowers in the country. As for those runner beans . . . Anyway, how are you, love? Doing OK?’
Glad that she’d pulled her blue woolly hat down over her forehead so the huge bruise was hidden, Nella said, ‘I’m fine. Really good.’
But Esme, clearly in possession of X-ray vision, studied her closely through narrowed eyes, then peeled the edge of the hat back on the right-hand side. ‘What’s this then? Who did that to you?’
‘No one. I skidded on ice and crashed my car into a wall yesterday.’ Because Esme was now glancing in Nick’s direction, Nella went on hastily, ‘Mr Callaghan rescued me. And now he’s dropping me at the station so I can get home to Manchester.’
‘OK, but you make sure you look after yourself, love.’ Esme patted her on the shoulder in a motherly fashion. ‘And if you ever need anything, you know where we are.’
As he drove her to catch her train, Nick said, ‘The concierge thing. It might actually be a good idea.’
Nella smiled. ‘I know it is. I’m full of them.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d be—’
‘Interested? Thanks, but I love the job I have, even if my boss does drive me mad. And like I said, he pays me too much to want to leave him. One other thing,’ she went on, ‘you might want to invest in a minibus so you can carry more people around, but you’d need someone with a PCV licence for that.’
‘A minibus ?’
‘I know, not the most glamorous. But you’d struggle with a stretch limo on some of the country lanes around here.’
They reached the station. Her train was due in six minutes. Nick lifted her case out of the car and she took it from him.
He said, ‘It’s been an interesting couple of days.’ They were facing each other now. ‘And thanks for the idea. I’m definitely going to consider it.’
‘You probably won’t.’ Something else she’d grown accustomed to during her years in hospitality was having good ideas that weren’t taken up, particularly by members of the opposite sex.
He smiled. ‘I might, though.’
They looked at each other as the snow continued to fall lazily around them. It was one of those charged moments when anything could happen next. A bigger than usual snowflake landed on the lashes of Nella’s left eye, and the iciness of it melting caused her to blink, startled. Then she started to laugh, because her grandad’s favourite film had been Brief Encounter , starring Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard, about two characters who’d met at a train station and fallen in love, in clipped upper-class accents.
It hadn’t ended happily ever after.
Nick said, ‘And you’re laughing because . . .?’
‘Being here like this just reminded me of an old black-and-white film my grandpa used to love.’
‘OK.’ He nodded. ‘ Spartacus ?’
She grinned. ‘Close. Anyway, thanks for everything.’
‘Don’t mention it. Thanks for lunch.’
And then there was silence, apart from the toot of an approaching train in the distance. Now what? All of a sudden Nella found herself really wanting to kiss him. Like, properly .
But that would be weird, and the chances of them ever seeing each other again were slim to zero. It wasn’t in her nature to panic, but she was definitely panicking now. To stop herself doing anything embarrassing, she grabbed his hand and briskly shook it like the world’s most determined doorstep politician.
Nick looked so startled she thought she must have gripped too tightly, inflicted actual pain.
‘Right, that sounds like my train. Better go. Have a good journey.’ Aaargh, wrong , I’m the one heading back up to Manchester, not him .
To his great credit, Nick didn’t point this out. Instead he said, ‘Thanks. I will.’ And if he burst out laughing after that, at least she didn’t hear it as she dragged her noisy overnight case on wheels across the car park and into the station building.