Chapter Eight
Hayley
W hen Hayley woke, she opened her eyes and blinked. Had she actually been asleep? The train was quiet. Had it stopped? Maybe she was still in a dream. Or maybe she’d been awake for hours listening to Oliver's breathing. She focused on it again. It was still deep but quieter, like maybe he too was coming around or just dozing. The blind was drawn and the low-level light in the room that was always on made it hard to gauge what time it was. She shimmied to the edge of the bed and peered over the safety barrier. The sleep mask still covered Oliver’s eyes; his thick dark hair sprawled across the pillow in what was a very endearing bedhead.
She needed her phone to check the time. Keeping as quiet as she could, she tossed back the cover, slithered down the ladder and tiptoed the few steps across the compartment to retrieve her phone. As she unplugged it, the cable dropped to the floor with a noise that seemed to crack through the still air like a whip. A split second later, the engine started again. She checked the time. Three a.m. Was that all? She couldn’t have been sleeping for more than a couple of hours.
‘What are you doing?’ Oliver asked, his voice husky and low. He’d propped himself up on his elbow and was holding the mask up.
‘Just getting my phone. I wanted to know the time.’
‘And what time is it?’
The train started moving again and Hayley braced herself, so she didn’t topple over. ‘Just after three.’
‘Oh god,’ he groaned.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘It’s fine. I never sleep well on this thing anyway. Maybe I should try sleeping tablets next time.’
‘Yeah, it’s a bit noisy and rattly. I didn’t know it stopped anywhere this late.’
‘It always stops and starts. If it didn’t, we’d get there too fast. This journey was invented when trains were slower and it took all night. These days you can get to London in six to eight hours, so it’s not quite the same.’
‘I see.’ Hayley yawned and climbed back into her bunk. She got back under the cover and couldn’t stop herself from googling the cost of tickets.
‘Bloody hell, Oliver,’ she said.
‘What?’ His tone was on edge like she’d shocked him, and she realised she’d probably spoken a bit too loud for the time of night.
‘I’ve just seen the price of tickets for this thing. I need to pay you back.’
‘Is that all? Forget it. It wasn’t actually that much more to add you, and the company paid for me.’
‘My god, are you sure?’
‘Very.’
She let out a sigh. ‘Thank you.’ What was he like? Where had this hidden nice guy come from? Had he always been there, hiding under layers of grumpiness? Or was this something new? Shoving her phone under her pillow, she closed her eyes again. She had a sleep mask too in the kit provided for them, but she didn’t like wearing masks. They always irritated her and the one in the pack didn’t look particularly comfy. Oliver seemed to have packed his own deluxe one.
Switching off wasn’t easy, but she must have dozed because when she fully came to, Oliver was up and staring out the window.
‘Have we arrived?’ She yawned and stretched.
‘We’re nearly there, but don’t rush.’ He didn’t look at her when he spoke. In fact, he never really looked at her. Maybe she was repulsive to him, especially in her nightwear. ‘You get half an hour to leave. I’m going to the bathroom.’ He had a toiletries bag with him and some clothes folded on top. Would he get dressed in those tiny loos to make sure he didn’t have to do it in front of her? Well, it made sense, she supposed. She didn’t really want to get dressed in front of him either. Not if the sight was so abhorrent to him. The easiest thing would be for her to put on her clothes while he was out. She shuffled out of bed, hauled out her giant case, shoved the clothes from the day before into a mesh laundry pouch and grabbed some clean items. She took a bathroom break and was still back before Oliver. Was he avoiding her? Or had he gone to the diner car for breakfast perhaps? By the time he returned, she was fully dressed and sitting on her top bunk, scrolling through her phone.
‘What do you want to do for breakfast?’ he said. ‘Get something here or when we arrive?’
‘Which is better?’
‘I know a nice place near the station. It’s much nicer than train food.’
‘Let’s do that then.’
‘I brought you a coffee.’ He handed her a paper cup with a lid on it but didn’t meet her eye.
Hayley lifted the lid. ‘Is it a—’
‘Flat white.’
She frowned and sniffed at it. ‘How did you know that?’
‘What? Oh… I think you had one at Finlay’s.’
When? She had no memory of that. How on earth had Oliver remembered, and why? So bizarre. She suppressed her questions and sipped her coffee. Not bad for train food. Still frowning at Oliver, she mentally teased out images of times he might have seen her drinking coffee or heard her ordering it. What had got into him? Not only had he bought her coffee, he’d invited her to breakfast. Well, maybe inviting was too strong, but he seemed to be including her in his plans. She’d assumed as soon as they arrived, he’d leave her to fend for herself and meet her at the hotel later, but hey, don’t knock it . ‘What will we do with the cases when we go for breakfast?’
He gave her a stern look, but was that the tiniest of smiles quirking at the corner of his lips? ‘Should have thought about that before you packed the kitchen sink, the oven and the microwave, shouldn’t you?’
‘Ha ha, very funny,’ She didn’t scrimp on the sarcasm.
‘We can take them to the hotel and leave them. They have a luggage store, even though we can’t officially check in until three.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’ll have time to drop them off before my first meeting at eleven.’
‘And how did you get on with booking a twin room?’
‘Very well, thankfully, or you’d have been the one sleeping standing up, or looking for a hostel for the night.’
‘Always the charmer.’
He snorted what might have been a laugh as he sat back on his lower bunk.
Despite not having slept well, Hayley was so buzzed about being in London she felt wide awake and ready to conquer the world. By the time the train pulled into the station, she had her case out and was at the door ready. Oliver helped get it off the train and their eyes met as she went to say, ‘I can do it myself.’ The words died on her lips, and something tugged in her chest, an almost desperate urge to lean up and kiss him.
Ok, not sensible or helpful.
‘This way.’ He blinked, breaking the eye contact, and led the way through the busy station. An early morning gloom hung over it as people strode past, staring forward with serious expressions. Hayley was a great people watcher and liked soaking up the buzz of city life, even if she had no desire to live it herself. She’d been to London several times before and knew this was nowhere near as busy as it would get later, but even as they made their way to the exit, more and more people were piling in as the rush hour was about to start.
Oliver edged out of the station exit and marched ahead while Hayley dragged her giant pink case along. Why did I bring this beast? Her wrist was aching. But how else could she ensure she looked her best for all the events? Shoes were the killer. They weighed so much.
Turning around a corner, Oliver headed up a side street, and Hayley hauled the beast along behind her.
‘I hope there’s room in here for that case,’ Oliver muttered with one of his signature frowns, stopping at the door of a small café called Le Petit Four. In the window was an array of pastries, bread, and cakes. ‘It’s continental. I hope you don’t mind that. I’m not really into fried breakfasts.’
‘It looks great.’ Her taste buds tingled at the array of croissants, brioche and pains au chocolat. She wasn’t usually a big breakfast eater, but she’d make an exception for this. Some of the yummies were more like cakes than breakfast food and probably weren’t great for the waistline, but so what? Life was short and she’d be doing a lot of walking over the next few days, which would make up for a few extra calories.
‘In we go then.’ Oliver opened the door and Hayley lugged her case into the fancy little café, decorated like a bistro with spindle-backed chairs and little round tables. She shoved the case into the corner near the window and took a seat. Oliver sat opposite, and Hayley experienced a tsunami of butterflies in her chest as he glanced over at her and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. She’d often seen him in a suit, but now she took the time to actually look, he was smoking hot in it. What the hell? This was Oliver. Grumpy Oliver. Admittedly hot Oliver. But not Oliver who caused her butterflies. That only happened with people you fancied… And ok, so, yes, she fancied Oliver – his hot bod anyway – but not in the butterfly kind of way. Ignore it; it’s just lack of sleep.
She lifted a menu and read through the options, all in French, of course. Hayley’s French couldn’t even be classed as pigeon.
‘Do you see anything you like?’ Oliver asked.
‘Oh, mercy buckets, trez bon.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that meant to be funny? The servers here are all French, so don’t insult them.’
‘Have you ever watched Friends ?’ she asked.
‘Not really.’
‘Shame, because there’s that episode with Joey speaking French that you’d just love.’
‘I dread to think,’ he muttered.
The server approached and smiled. ‘Good morning, madame, monsieur. What can I get you both?’
Oliver ordered something in perfect French, and Hayley had no idea what he even said. She smiled at the server, and he beamed back at her expectantly.
‘Avy non Francoise,’ Hayley said. ‘Sorry. So can I have a pain-au-chocolate and a flat white?’
‘Of course, madam,’ the server said. ‘And I can help you with anything on the menu, if you would like me to translate.’
‘Sure, can you please tell me what some of the specials are?’
He leaned over, pointing to the words, and explained. Hayley caught Oliver watching with his jaw clamped so tight he could use it as a vice.
‘Merci.’ She pointed to the menu. ‘They sound delicious.’
‘The puits d’amour, madam. Certainly.’
Hayley winked at Oliver as the server left the table. ‘I avy le way with le Francais.’
‘That’s just rude.’
‘Isn’t. I’m trying my best with what I remember from two years in school. That l’amour thing sounds like love. Maybe it’s an aphrodisiac.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake,’ Oliver muttered, glancing out the window.
Hayley smirked. ‘I suppose you speak French fluently.’
‘Enough to get by in a café, but not fluently, no.’ He took out his phone and opened it. ‘Excuse me, I need to reply to some work messages.’
Hayley didn’t mind. People-watching in here was something she could do all day, whether it was other customers or the passers-by. Everyone had a story and she listened in, trying to discover what it might be.
When the breakfast arrived, she ate quietly as Oliver carried on replying to his messages. The puits d’amour were delicious little pastry-like cakes filled with jam and sugary sprinkles on top. She’d never had anything like it and she gave a little moan at the sweet sensation. Oliver didn’t look up, but his brow furrowed even deeper than usual. He was easy on the eye, even with a grumpy face, and this was like her own private show. Why was he so hot? Maybe the dazzling white shirt open at the neck to reveal his tanned skin or the way he seductively bit into pastries, then brushed crumbs from his lips. Possibly just the fact he was such a highflyer and seeing him at work was like watching competency porn.
When they were done, he footed the bill despite all Hayley’s insistence that they should share it.
‘No, it’s on me.’ He tapped his card.
She pulled an exasperated face at the server behind the till, who gave her a little smile.
‘Let’s get these bags to the hotel.’ Oliver glared at her case again. ‘You realise we need to get that on the tube?’
‘Sure.’ Other people did it. There were always people with cases on the tube. She just hoped she wouldn’t be the one who ended in a heap at the bottom of an escalator with her case on top of her.
Oliver seemed to know where he was going, so she followed. First, they needed tickets from the machine, then it was escalator time. They got through the luggage barrier and headed for the downward stairs. Hayley’s stomach lurched when she saw how long it was. Even getting her case on that would be some feat.
‘Do you want to swap?’ Oliver said.
‘Swap what?’
‘You take this case. I’ll get yours down.’
‘I… Well, ok.’ She couldn’t deny how much it was freaking her out. His smaller case was much easier to pull. Oliver stepped onto the elevator with hers like it weighed nothing. She followed with only a little wobble. Thank god he was in front of her. He’ll catch me if I stumble, won’t he? Because there was a nice Oliver in there. A strangely thoughtful one she’d caught glimpses of over the last twelve hours.
The tube was standing room only, and Oliver kept hold of the pink suitcase, even though it earned him one or two funny looks and the odd snigger. That wasn’t exactly the open-minded attitude Hayley had been led to believe existed in London, though really, she couldn’t help giggling herself. If they hadn’t been moving at breakneck speed between every station or being tossed around in the carriages, she’d have taken a picture so she could refer back to it whenever a moment of sadness hit, because she knew the sight would always make her smile.
The Royal Saxon Hotel in Mayfair was a masterpiece of Georgian architecture, its cream-coloured fa?ade adorned with intricate stonework and grand arched windows.
‘Wow.’ Hayley goggled at the imposing structure. She liked hotels and often saved up to stay in pleasant locations, but this was somewhere she wouldn’t have chosen for herself. Not because there was anything wrong with it, it just looked a little too grand, maybe a bit stuffy for her. But now she was here, she liked the smart location and the grandeur.
‘Yeah, it’s a nice place.’ Oliver hopped up the stairs, still with her case in tow. He spoke to the receptionist, who took their cases into a side room. ‘Right.’ Oliver turned to Hayley with what was clearly his business face. ‘I’ve got a meeting to go to and I’m sure you have lots you want to do. We can meet for dinner later, if you like. Or I’ll see you back here this evening if you prefer.’
‘Dinner sounds great.’ This really was surprising. Why was he being so attentive?
‘Ok.’ He adjusted his cuffs, not meeting her eyes. ‘I’ll message later and let you know where I am and we can fix a place to meet.’
‘Great. See you then.’
‘Yes…’ His gaze linked with hers and for a weird moment, he seemed to sway, almost like he’d considered dipping in and giving her a goodbye kiss. But he wouldn’t do that … Would he? No.
‘See you.’ He cleared his throat and raised his hand in what was presumably meant to be a wave, then marched through the foyer doors. Hayley watched him for a moment before following. She had a whole day to spend in London. The sun was out, and she was having dinner somewhere fancy later. Life was definitely good.