Chapter 11
Henry Darlington took his date to McDonald’s? Perhaps the hotel really is doomed. Good! #BoycottTheDarlington
Online comment by ShyAndroid
Henry
Lightning flashes lit up London’s skyline in rapid succession.
The glare turned night to day, despite the dense apocalyptic clouds obscuring the sky.
Rain dashed against the windows of my penthouse apartment, and every time a gust of wind hit the panes, I felt tremors beneath my feet.
A loud rumble of thunder came from the distance. The storm was about to get even wilder.
It was just after 11 p.m., and usually at this time of night, I could watch from my sofa as people scuttled around below, on the hunt for entertainment.
But today the streets were deserted. I was sipping a whisky when another flash lit up my dark living room.
I’d already tried going to bed, but sleep had eluded me.
It wasn’t the storm that kept me awake—it was my restless thoughts, as usual.
I’d spent an hour on the treadmill, but I was still filled with a nervous energy.
My thoughts wandered again to the INsider article.
I’d stared at it for a long time, not because of the headline, but because of the photos of Kate.
She had stirred something inside me, not just because she was incredibly pretty, but because she was also funny, entertaining, and refreshingly honest. I kept replaying our conversation, trying to figure out if I’d been a jerk.
I knew I could be pretty standoffish. Sheer abundance in my social circle often led to boredom, which resulted in youthful hijinks.
As we got older, it fuelled gossip, so we were overly cautious about the things we said.
I was worried I’d been distant with Kate out of habit, even though our meeting had been one of the highlights of my last few weeks.
In spite of the fact that she had cheated me out of money.
I supposed this was why I couldn’t stop worrying about her—there was no way she could sleep in the park in weather like this.
The radio had advised people to stay away from open spaces and avoid sheltering under trees due to the risk of lightning strikes and falling branches.
A chill ran down my spine at the thought of Kate huddling, drenched and freezing, under her pile of blankets in St. James’s Park, the world ending around her.
I shook my head to dispel the image of her getting struck by a tree.
She was fine. She had probably used my money on a hotel room or an Airbnb, and she had my business card for emergencies.
Still, I was consumed by worry and absolutely certain that I wouldn’t sleep a wink until I knew Kate was safe.
If I woke up tomorrow to the news that a homeless woman had been killed in the storm, I’d never forgive myself.
I grabbed my phone from next to me on the sofa and called reception. A few seconds later, Philippa, the unlucky employee assigned to night duty, answered. “Good evening, Mr. Darlington. How can I help you?”
“Is the chauffeur service still available?” I felt sober despite the whisky, but I didn’t want to risk anything, especially in this weather.
“Mr. Hammond is still here.”
“Tell him that I’ll be down in a moment,” I said, making my way to my bedroom to get dressed. Since I’d already been in bed, I was wearing only the boxers I’d quickly pulled on when I got up. I normally slept naked—another small act of rebellion against a silk-pyjama-wearing society.
“Of course, sir,” Philippa said. “What is your destination?”
“St. James’s Park.”
She fell silent. “Mr. Darlington,” Philippa said, sounding alarmed. “The rain is torrential, and this storm is forecast to get worse. Are you sure this is the right time for a nighttime walk?”
“Absolutely,” I said and hung up. What else was I supposed to say? I was well aware that it was a ridiculous idea to go outside, especially as Kate could be anywhere. But the park was the only place I could think of, and so I would try my luck.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back seat of Mr. Hammond’s car, watching the rain run in rivulets down the windows.
The windshield wipers flew back and forth, and we could barely see a metre ahead, so although ours was the only vehicle on the road, we crept towards St. James’s Park at less than twenty miles an hour.
The drive felt like a test of my patience, but we eventually made it.
Mr. Hammond stopped the car as close as he could get to the spot where I’d first met Kate last week.
I pulled the hood of my black raincoat over my head and pressed a button that ejected an umbrella from a door compartment of the car.
“Sir, are you sure you want to go out there?” Mr. Hammond asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. The look in his eyes indicated that he was questioning my sanity. And to be frank, so was I. But that didn’t stop me from opening the door.
“Yes. I’ll be right back,” I said and ventured out into the storm.
The wind was bitingly cold and whipped at me so forcefully that it tore my hood down and made it impossible for me to open the umbrella. My hair was soaked through in seconds, and my tracksuit bottoms were plastered to my legs. I swore, tossed the umbrella back into the car, and trudged off.
Battling the wind and rain, I made my way to St. James’s Café, which was close to where Kate had set up camp.
It was dark in the park despite the streetlights, and now that I’d veered off the path, the storm engulfed everything in gloom.
I regretted not bringing a torch. I’d have to make do with the one on my phone.
“Kate?” I called into the dark.
The storm swallowed my words, and the lawn squelched under my feet. My socks became soaked through almost as fast as my hair. Branches torn from the trees by the wind cracked underfoot.
“Kate?” I called again.
But again, there was no answer.
I’d reached the spot between the bushes where Kate had hidden her things, but there was no trace of her or her blankets.
Perhaps she really had checked into a hotel.
I regretted not asking her more questions about her life on the streets and what she was planning to do with my money.
But it was too late for regret. I decided to do a lap around the café.
If I didn’t find her, I’d go back to the car.
“Kate?”
The only response was the howling of the wind.
I shivered, blasted by a particularly forceful gust of wind, and wondered if I’d lost my mind.
It was freezing cold, and I was drenched from head to toe.
I couldn’t get sick. Every day I’d lose at the office would be a disaster for the hotel and the Pearl Gala.
And yet here I was, risking it all for a woman I barely knew.
“Kate?!”
“Snowflake?”
I stopped. Had I imagined it? I spun around, but I couldn’t see Kate anywhere.
“Over here!”
It was definitely Kate! I turned in the direction her voice had come from.
At first, I couldn’t make her out, but then I saw her on the café veranda.
Although it had a roof, she looked just as wet as I was.
I ran towards her and leapt over the wooden balustrade to join her under the roof.
I stopped in front of her. Her wet hair was plastered to her head, and instead of the leather jacket, she was wearing a raincoat that was far too big for her.
“What . . . what are you doing here?” she stuttered. We stood face-to-face, but she still had to shout to make herself heard above the storm.
“I came to pick you up.”
“What?”
“You can’t sleep out here tonight.”
Kate looked at me with confusion. She tried to blink away the fat raindrops caught in her eyelashes. “And where should I go, in your opinion?”
“To the hotel. You can stay there for the night.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Even in the darkness, I could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the caution that a life on the streets had instilled in her. Kate knew my name, but at the end of the day, I was a stranger. I could take her anywhere, do anything to her.
I took a step back, aware that my size and stature might seem threatening. A flash of lightning bathed us in bright white light. “I don’t want to hurt you, Kate. I just want you to be safe. The storm is going to get worse. This is just the beginning.”
She crossed her arms and looked at me. In her bedraggled state, she seemed younger than she had when we’d first met, probably because of her big, round eyes. “Why are you helping me?”
I smiled. “Because I’m a good person. You said so yourself.”
“I said you’re an honest person. That’s different.”
I paused. “But you said you trusted me, didn’t you?”
Kate bit her lower lip and hesitated, then nodded. Despite the cold, I felt an unexpected jolt of warmth in my belly.
“So come with me,” I said. “If I really wanted to kidnap you, I wouldn’t be standing in the rain arguing. I could just throw you over one shoulder. There’s no one here to stop me, after all. Come on. You must be cold. You can have a hot bath at the hotel.”
Kate took notice at my last words. Her gaze drifted from me to the dark clouds. A loud rumble sounded, no longer distant. It was close, very close. It wouldn’t be long before the eye of the storm reached us. “OK, but we have to take my things with us. I’m not going without them.”
“Sure. There’s room for them in the car. Where are they?”
She led me around the veranda to her sleeping spot.
She had pushed together three tables that had been chained together, along with the chairs.
The structure was covered with a tarpaulin made of bin bags, which she had weighed down with rocks.
It was crafty, but it probably wouldn’t withstand the storm for much longer.
Kate had stowed her blankets and rucksack beneath it.
“Come on, let me help you,” I said and grabbed a couple of blankets.
For a moment, it looked like she would stop me from touching her belongings, but she didn’t protest. We gathered them and ran to the car, tossing everything onto the back seat instead of in the boot so we wouldn’t have to spend a second longer than necessary in the rain.
Mr. Hammond had turned the heating up full blast, and Kate let out a contented sigh next to me.
“Take us back to the hotel,” I said as I fastened my seat belt.
Mr. Hammond’s eyes wandered from me to Kate and back again in the rearview mirror. I wondered if he’d seen the photos of us and whether he recognised her. If he did, he didn’t let on. “Of course, sir.”
I glanced at Kate as we drove off. The air from the heater was pleasantly warm, but she was shivering as if chilled to the bone. I longed to pull her close to me and warm her with my body, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch her without her consent.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked sternly. I was angry, not at her, but at myself for delaying the search, even though I’d had a bad feeling for hours.
“My phone is broken.” It was dark outside, and the interior lights were so bright that I could see her face, which she’d turned away from me, in the window’s reflection.
“You could have come to the hotel.” I had offered her that too.
Her reflected eyes narrowed, and she turned to me abruptly. “I can look after myself.”
“You clearly can’t,” I said and promptly regretted my words when her face darkened.
I understood. She’d been too proud to ask for help, and as a result, she’d unnecessarily put herself at risk.
However, there was no point in telling her off.
Worst-case scenario, it would scare her away, and that was the last thing I wanted.
“I’m sorry. You obviously know far more about surviving on the streets than I do.
But I wish you’d reached out instead of letting me look for you in the rain. ”
“I didn’t ask you to look for me.”
“You didn’t. But I wanted to.”
At these words, something flashed across Kate’s face. She turned away to look out the window again, even though there was nothing to see in the rain besides blurred lights.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the headrest. The conversation could have gone better.
“Thank you.”
I blinked and looked at Kate again.
She watched me in the reflection. Her gaze was steady, but the anger had disappeared from her face. “For looking for me. The next few hours would have been terrible otherwise.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”