Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Gabriel
A crash downstairs drew my attention to the clock on my computer. Shit. Seven thirty. I’d been on this video call for two and a half hours and it was a Sunday morning.
“I’m going to have to go,” I said. I’d mentioned having to ring off before seven when I answered the call at just after five. But as usual, Mike Green, my biggest client, liked to push boundaries.
“We’re just making progress,” Mike said. “I think if we keep going, we can have this deal hammered out by noon your time. You’ll get the rest of the day.”
“I have a four-year-old, Mike. I’ll catch up with you tonight. Just don’t engage those useless environmental analysts. I’ll find someone else.”
“Gabriel, they’re the best in the business.”
“They were four days late with the last report. They can’t be trusted.”
“Can you just give me a few more hours? We can get this done.”
When I didn’t respond, he sighed and gave me a disappointed nod of the head.
He’d make me pay for this. People thought that when you made partner at a law firm, you were your own boss, but that was bollocks.
Clients ruled my life in a way that other people’s bosses made their lives hell.
Mike was a dickhead. But he was a successful dickhead and headed up one of the few private equity houses that was still doing deals in this recession.
Probably because he had nothing else to do.
I left the meeting and headed out of my office, toward the sound of the crash. Bethany woke between seven and seven thirty every morning like clockwork, and although she normally just played in her bedroom until I came and got her, she may have wandered downstairs.
I walked into the kitchen and instead of seeing smashed crockery and four-year-old bare feet, I found Autumn at the hob, with Bethany sitting on a bar stool.
“Good morning,” I said, scrubbing my hands through my hair and then kissing my daughter on the head. “Can we turn that music down?” What was it with Autumn and musicals?
“We’re making pancakes,” Bethany announced as she continued to stir the mixture in the mixing bowl in front of her. “And singing.”
God help us all. Autumn sang like she was drowning in a pit of cats and Bethany was four, so naturally sounded like one of the said cats. The two of them together might be handy as a form of defense if we were fighting off the Taliban, but my eardrums wouldn’t survive another chorus of Let it Go.
I glanced at Autumn, wondering if she’d heard my request to turn down the music, and she beamed at me. I’d never known a person so happy all the time. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to impress me or if she was genuinely, thoroughly enjoying herself. Constantly.
“I picked up maple syrup and blueberries this week, so we’re giving it a try. Are you willing to be a guinea pig?” she asked. More smiles. It was seven thirty on a Sunday. What was there to be so happy about?
“Please, Daddy,” Bethany pleaded.
“Okay.” I had no defense against my daughter’s request. I picked up Autumn’s phone and silenced the incessant screeching, hoping to dissuade any amateur participation, and took a seat on the stool next to my daughter.
I hoped Autumn’s cooking was a lot better than her vocal ability.
“But I don’t expect you to have to cook Bethany breakfast. Or me for that matter. I know it’s a Sunday.”
“I was awake. And I’m cooking us all breakfast. I hope.” She winked. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had winked at me. It might have been the gardener we had when I was a child. These days, I was far too serious for anyone to wink at me.
Except Autumn, apparently.
“Here we go. Are you up for first taste, Bethany?” Autumn slid the first pancake onto a wooden plate. “Not too much syrup and lots of blueberries, please.”
“Hot!” Bethany said, staring at the piece of pancake on her fork and giving it an ineffective blow.
Before Bethany had given her verdict, Autumn slid three pancakes onto my plate and handed me a knife and fork.
“Yummy!” Bethany declared. “Daddy, you eat.” She jabbed her finger at my plate.
“I’m out of objections,” I replied and took a mouthful.
“How are they?” Autumn asked.
I nodded, trying to match her enthusiasm. She’d accused me of being rude last night, and I didn’t have time to look for a new nanny if Autumn decided to throw in the towel. I’d been accused by more than one nanny of being hostile and unappreciative.
“Secret family recipe,” Autumn said as if she’d just served up a Michelin-starred dish.
“Daddy, bear soldiers today, ’member?” Bethany said.
“She’s been talking about soldiers non-stop,” Autumn said. “I’m a little concerned you’re signing her up to some kind of teddy bear army.”
“I’ve promised I’ll take her to the changing of the guard. She thinks the busbies they wear make them look like bears.”
Autumn swallowed a mouthful of pancake. “Changing of the guard? Like Christopher Robin and Alice?” Her face was plastered in sheer delight, like someone had just given her the moon. “Does that actually happen?”
“Of course it does,” I replied. Why would she think it wasn’t real?
“Can I come?” she asked, pouring more pancake batter into the frying pan. “That poem—” She shook her head as if it didn’t matter. “I heard it a lot growing up. I’d love to actually see how it all works. Does the Queen come out?”
I hadn’t expected company today. Weekends were for me and Bethany. I didn’t see my daughter much in the week, so I tried to make weekends count.
“Yes, Autumn, come! Please, Daddy!”
My daughter had me wrapped around her finger.
And it wouldn’t hurt to be nice to Autumn so she wouldn’t leave me high and dry and without a nanny.
Again. Work was manic at the moment and it was going to get worse over the next couple of months.
Autumn was due to stay until the end of July, when all my clients went on holiday and I’d have time to find a new nanny.
“Of course, Autumn is welcome, darling. But she might not want to come because we won’t see Her Majesty. Just a lot of busbies and tourists.”
Autumn shrugged, her eyes sparkling like sunshine hitting water. “I can’t wait. What time do we need to leave?”
Instead of disappearing until it was time to go, Autumn pulled out Bethany’s rucksack and started to pack.
“Here,” she said, pulling out a laminated sheet. “I prepared a list of everything we need when we’re going out for the day.”
“You laminated a list?” It was strange having help at the weekend. It had been a long time since Bethany’s mother had left.
She shrugged. “Of course. That way you don’t forget anything. I have one for going to preschool, too. I find it’s best to be prepared in life. It frees you up to deal with the unexpected.”
I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and I was concerned if I asked her to explain, she’d just confuse me more.
Thirty minutes later, Autumn greeted the cabbie as we piled into the cab. “Thank you for taking us to the Palace.” She did know he was getting paid, didn’t she?
“Tip up. Tip up. Just like Paddington,” Bethany sang to herself as she pulled down the tip-up seat and clambered on.
I leaned to fix the seatbelt and my hand collided with Autumn’s.
A flash of energy chased up my arm and lit me up from my center, starting in my bollocks.
Jesus. I thought when I handed her the spatula last night, the spark of electricity between us had been a fluke. Apparently not.
Autumn gasped as she pulled back her arm.
Had she felt that? It was like some kind of explosion.
“Are you okay?” I asked, not looking at her but finishing securing Bethany in place.
“Yes,” she said, quieter than I was used to. She’d also felt something then.
Autumn was an attractive girl. I’d seen it the first time I’d ever laid eyes on her.
I’d stopped noticing women after Penelope left, swearing myself to a life of celibacy.
I wanted to focus only on the things that deserved my attention: my daughter, work, and the five men who were more my brothers than my friends.
Autumn had interrupted that focus for a split second.
But that’s all it had been—a momentary intrusion.
She’d been unmistakably striking and beautiful and a little haunting, and something in my physiology had reacted. But that moment had passed. Hadn’t it?
By the time we pulled up on the Mall, I’d put our collision out of mind.
Autumn likely had too, with all her chattering on to the cabbie.
I was surprised she hadn’t been invited to the man’s thirtieth wedding anniversary coming up next month.
She’d made fast friends with him as she peppered him with questions about his celebrity passengers and near misses when it came to women almost giving birth on the back seat.
Her sunny nature didn’t appear to have been put on for my benefit.
Or if it had, it was extended to the cabbie as well.
She seemed genuinely happy. All. The. Time.
At least she hadn’t broken out into song.
We stepped out of the cab onto the street, and I lifted Bethany onto my shoulders like we normally did. This time of year, the crowds wouldn’t be too bad, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Bethany was safe and also had the best view.
“Could there be anything more iconically British then going to see the changing of the guard in a black cab?” Autumn asked, her wide smile lighting up a very dull April morning.
“Bears!” Bethany said, pointing toward the palace.
“Let’s go,” I replied. “We need to get a good spot.” There were just a few people here right now but within ten minutes, thousands would appear from nowhere like ants on ice cream.