Chapter 1 #2
I went to retrieve them, but before I could get close, he had collected them up and continued striding towards the house, hefting one onto his hip so that he could fish a key out and unlock the door. As he did, the horse and rider I had seen earlier passed by the end of the garden path.
‘Nick!’ called a voice. ‘Have I missed breakfast?’
He grinned.
‘Only by about two hours, although I’m sure Angela will find you something.’
‘I lose track of time when I’m riding,’ said the girl, smiling back. She looked young – in her mid-teens, maybe – with her dark hair drawn back into a neat bun at the back of her head below her helmet. She looked at me. ‘Hello, I’m India.’
Ah, Nick’s stepsister, horse crazy; I remembered her being mentioned at my interview.
‘Hi there, I’m Laura, I’ve come to work with Marilise.’
‘Oh, great, I see. I thought…’
‘What did you think?’ asked Nick suspiciously.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, but Laura’s wearing your jacket and you’ve both got leaves in your hair…’
The grin grew more wicked as the heat rose up my face and I quickly started undoing the coat.
‘Don’t be cheeky!’ replied Nick. ‘Laura was very kindly helping me extract Steve from a bush.’
‘Not again?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
She shook her head despairingly, then lifted one gloved hand in farewell.
‘See you both later!’
We waved back, then stepped inside into a large, elegant hallway.
The floors were clad in smooth flagstones with a faded but still beautiful rug lying across them.
The walls were painted yellow and there was a marble fireplace that had a wood burner glowing in it.
A graceful walnut staircase covered in thick cream carpet rose from the centre of the hall to a galleried landing and a tall grandfather clock stood to one side, tick-tocking in a loud but strangely comforting way.
I wondered if Mum and my sister Steph would be more forgiving of me if they could see my new temporary home; these were exactly the surroundings they thought one ‘should’ live in.
I had always been happy with mine and Paulo’s small house, but each to their own.
Nick put down my luggage, and I shrugged off the coat and handed it to him.
‘Sorry about India,’ he said, hanging it on a nearby hatstand. ‘She’s fifteen and a bit sassy at times, but basically a nice kid. Angela!’
The sudden call made me jump, and then I heard a familiar tapping of heels coming along an unseen corridor.
A white-painted door opened to the left of the hallway and out came a woman I recognised.
Angela, a short, cosy-looking, smiling woman with greying blond hair pulled into a messy ponytail, wearing jeans and a flowery apron, had interviewed me in London and I was happy to see her again, her smile as welcoming and friendly as it had been then.
‘Nurse Wilde, how good to see you again. Er, are you all right?’
I touched my hair and could feel little bits of leaf and goodness knows what else still stuck in it, then moved my hand to my slightly sticky, grimy face.
‘Yes, I’m fine, I’m sorry I’m late, I was just, er…’
I glanced at Nick, who grinned impishly.
‘What Nurse Wilde means to say is that she was helping me rescue Steve from a bush.’
Angela raised an eyebrow.
‘Again?’
I was beginning to see a theme emerging here.
‘Again. Anyway, that explains why she’s a bit late, and, well…’
He broke off, apparently not wanting to seem ungallant.
‘Dishevelled,’ I put in. ‘Is there anywhere I can tidy up before I meet Marilise? Oh, and please do call me Laura.’
Angela tucked her arm through mine and led me down the passageway she had come from.
‘Come on, Laura. There’s a bathroom down here you can use, then join us for a cuppa in the kitchen. Marilise always has a morning nap around this time, so you won’t be able to meet her yet, anyway.’
I allowed myself to be steered down a wood-panelled corridor and into a cavernous bathroom, tiled in a startling shade of mustard yellow, with an avocado suite straight out of the nineteen seventies.
I wondered which of the Princes had updated it; it was out of step with the rest of the house but felt more familiar to me than the grandeur I had seen so far.
I shut the door with some relief, took a hairbrush out of my handbag and looked in the mirror.
It was worse than I had realised. Steve’s claws had pulled large strands of hair out of its bun as he had scrambled over my head, and there were several twigs and leaves caught in it, sticking out at odd angles.
I had a smear of mud over my right cheek and a long, red scratch on the left one.
I looked like a scarecrow. Only my clothing – neat and clean, but not a uniform – had escaped unscathed, thanks to Nick’s coat.
Quickly, I removed the band and pins from my hair and picked out the debris before running the brush through and tucking and twisting everything back into place.
I dampened a tissue to clean off the mud and rooted around in my bag in the hope of finding some make-up I might be able to use to cover the scratch.
I drew a blank; everything like that was in my suitcase, as I don’t usually have time or need for touch-ups during the day.
Oh well, it would have to do. I gave my reflection my best and brightest nurse’s smile and headed for the kitchen.