'Oh, no,' she groaned, and started after him.
She was halfway up when Declan Malone appeared at the window. He was carrying Humph, who was licking his face frantically.
He looked at Olivia, his mouth tightening inimically.
'Miss Butler,' he said expressionlessly. 'Now why am I not surprised? If you're here looking for Jeremy, he's not back yet'
'I'm not,' Olivia said stiffly, silently cursing the day she was born.
He was wearing chinos, she noticed, and a white shirt, with the sleeves turned back to reveal tanned forearms, and his feet were bare. His hair was damp, as if he'd just got out of the shower, and she found herself wondering if last night's lady was still around somewhere.
Not, she reminded herself hastily, that it had anything to do with her.
She mounted the last few steps and took the little dog from him. 'I didn't mean to disturb you. Humph was chasing a cat. I—just followed him through the bushes.'
'You seem to have brought a fair bit of them with you.' Declan reached out and removed a twig and some leaves from her hair. It was the last thing she'd expected him to do, and an odd shiver ran through her at his touch.
He said abruptly, 'The rules of the garden state that dogs must be kept on leads at all times. Did Sasha not tell you?'
Olivia bit her lip, recalling the typewritten sheet she hadn't bothered to read 'Yes—I mean, I think so.'
He said silkily, 'But then rules don't mean much to you, do they, Miss Butler?'
'And you seem to invent yours as you go along, Mr Malone,' she returned icily. 'But I'll make sure I remember in the future.'
'You do that,' he said with a certain grimness.
'Before I go,' she said, 'there's something I'd like to say. You implied I was a home-wrecker. But it's not true. Jeremy's marriage was finished long before I met him again.'
'You've known him for a while?'
'It seems like all my life. Perhaps like you—and Maria.'
'I doubt that.'
She said, 'Sasha told me she was your cousin—that you were close. So you must have known that things were— going wrong.'
'I've never had many illusions about the state of her marriage.' His tone was short. 'But that doesn't mean I'd choose to connive at its breakdown.'
'Nor I.' Olivia lifted her chin. 'But—these things happen.'
'Indeed they do,' he drawled. 'I've read the statistics.' He gave her a level look. 'Have you anything else to say in mitigation?'
'No,' she said. 'Actually, I didn't have to explain to you at all. But I felt I owed it to myself.' She paused. 'Do you have no other comment?'
'Nothing you'd particularly want to hear. Just a repetition of advice already given. Which is: go back to—' his brows lifted enquiringly '—where was it?'
'Bristol,' she said stonily. 'And I'm staying here.' She clipped Humph's lead to his collar. 'I'd better take him home.' She hesitated. 'And I apologise for letting him chase the cat. Is it all right?'
'Fighting fit. It was the Fosters' Maximilian.' He put out a hand and scratched the top of the little dog's head. 'If he ever turned on Humph he'd have him on toast. So take care, Miss Butler.'
'Of Humph?' Her voice was saccharine-sweet 'Of course I will.'
'Of everything.' he said. 'And I'm sure you won't.'
She turned and descended the steps, aware of his eyes boring into her spine. As she leached the path she looked back at him.
'When Jeremy does come back, will you ask him to call me, please, on my mobile? He has my number.'
His mouth twisted. 'I'll refrain from the cheap retort. And, yes, I'll tell him to make contact—if that's really what you want.'
'Yes,' she said lifting her chin. 'It is.'
He gave her one last cool look, then walked back into the house and closed the French windows behind him.
This, Olivia told an unresponsive pane of glass, is getting to be a habit. But at least this time she'd had the last word. Or had she? With Declan Malone it was difficult to be certain.
But she could ensure it was the last word in another sense, she thought as she walked away, Humph prancing beside her.
She could take immense care never to set eyes on Declan Malone again.
In a city the size of London, it shouldn't be too hard.
And she'd begin by never straying to his side of the garden again, she vowed silently.
Declan was not in a good mood when he returned to his computer screen. Introducing the Butler girl to Sasha had been a bad mistake, he told himself savagely. What the hell had possessed him to do such a thing, instead of sending her away with a flea in her ear? Now she was ensconced just across the garden, and far too close for comfort.
He shook his head in exasperation, glaring at his notes on William Pitt the Younger, which now seemed stilted and totally without interest Maybe in trying to breathe new life into these long-dead politicians he'd simply bitten off more than he could chew.
Or maybe that damned girl was sitting in his skull, distorting his thinking.
Oh, come on, he derided himself. She's just a passing irritation, not a major problem. When Jeremy returned, he'd give him a sharp piece of his mind, and tell him to get rid of her or get out. And that would settle the matter.
Declan pressed 'Save' and deliberately switched his thoughts with far more satisfaction to last night's dinner with Claudia.
She was lively, intelligent and extremely attractive, he reflected. And she'd let him know, albeit with charming subtlety, that she was also attracted to him.
Without conceit, he knew that he could probably have ended the evening in her bed. But he'd decided instead to slow the pace. Establish a relationship before taking the quantum leap into intimacy.
They'd talked about music and theatre over their meal. He'd give it a couple of days, then ask her if she'd like to go to the Ibsen revival that had been so well reviewed.
Claudia had admitted to liking cooking, so it was on the cards she'd offer to make dinner for him. And then they'd see…
He frowned swiftly. It all seemed rather measured—even calculating, perhaps—but what the hell? He was past expecting to be knocked fiat by passion at first sight—the genuine
coup de foudre
that people sighed about.
On the other hand, he wanted to be sure that when he married his marriage would last, and not fall into the kind of disarray he saw all around him.
Like Maria and Jeremy, he thought grimly, and cursed under his breath as the Butler girl invaded his mind's eye again.
I should have sent her packing, he told himself, restively. So why didn't I? And what can I do to salvage the situation?
He swung his chair round and picked up the phone, punching in a familiar number.
'Maria?' His face relaxed into a smile. 'So, how's it going?'
As evening approached Olivia was on tenterhooks, pacing up and down her room, eyeing her mobile phone. Willing it to ring.
When it finally obliged, she pounced on it with a sob of relief. 'Jeremy?'
'No, it's Beth. Just calling to see how you're settling in?' Beth paused. 'I gather lover boy isn't around?'
'Not at the moment.' Olivia managed to sound amused as well as rueful. 'I would choose a weekend when he's working away. But I'm expecting him back any minute now,' she added hastily.
'Then I won't keep you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, and check on your address. It is number sixteen, isn't it?'
Olivia hesitated. 'No,' she said reluctantly. 'Actually it's 21B Lancey
Terrace
. As Jeremy wasn't here, I thought it was better to establish my own base. I've found this terrific bedsit. Cheap too. I can't believe how lucky I've been.' She paused, aware of the over-brightness in her tone.
'Well,' Beth said, after a pause of her own, 'just as long as you're OK. Let me know how the job-hunting goes.'
'I will. Bless you.' Olivia switched off the phone and put it down beside her on the sofa, homesickness washing over her like a tidal wave. She'd planned to call her parents, but wasn't sure she could manage it without bursting into tears and worrying them both to death. Better to wait until she had some good news for them, she thought. Something that would lift her own spirits too.
She wasn't used to hiding things from the people she loved, or pretending. She'd let them think that coming to London was a career move. She hadn't told them that her future included Jeremy, because she knew they wouldn't approve while he was still nominally a married man.
She wished she could have confided in Beth. Admitted that nothing was working out as she'd planned. That she felt stranded, and lonelier than she'd ever dreamed.
And threatened, she realised, as an image of Declan Malone's dark, unsmiling face forced its way into her mind. She'd made an enemy there that she didn't need.
She switched on the television and tried to interest herself in a detective series she usually enjoyed, but the twists and turns of the plot couldn't hold her attention tonight.
It was midnight when she finally came to terms with the certainty that Jeremy was not going to telephone after all.
And it was another hour before she eventually cried herself to sleep.
She felt tired and jaded the next morning, which wasn't how she needed to present herself at all, she thought, giving herself a mental kick. She was looking for a job, and she wanted to impress.
She dressed with extra care, choosing a dark grey suit with a faint pinstripe, a white shirt, and black pumps with a medium heel.
She would settle for temporary work to ease her immediate cash-flow situation, she'd decided, but she also planned to register with a couple of recruitment agencies. Try and capitalise on her computer skills.
Perhaps, when she and Jeremy were living together and settled, she'd freelance, working from home, she told herself, determined to be positive about their relationship.
After all, there could be a dozen reasons why he hadn't rung her last night. And she wasn't going to allow herself any more doubts, or fits of the blues.
But if she'd hoped to walk straight into the perfect job, she was disappointed. The first temp bureau she visited had a full quota already, she was told, and the second could only offer part-time work at rates that wouldn't even pay the rent, let alone feed her.
She was climbing the stairs to a third place when her phone rang.
'Livvy?' Jeremy asked. 'Darling, what on earth are you doing here? I could hardly believe my ears when I got your message.'
Olivia leaned against the wall, aware of a small, painful knot in her chest.
She said, 'Aren't you pleased?'
'I'm delighted, naturally,' he said quickly. 'But a bit stunned too. I mean, we didn't actually discuss this—did we?'
'Maybe I felt it was time for action rather than words.' There was a crack in the plaster beside her. It looked like the shape of a pregnant woman, she thought, tracing it with her finger. She said, 'When am I going to see you?'
'Well—tonight, obviously.' He paused. 'How about we meet for a drink when I finish work.'
'A drink?' she echoed, trying to fight down her instinctive dismay. 'But, Jeremy, we need to talk—make some plans.'
'Of course we do, and we will.' He sounded brisk. 'But I'm a bit pushed at the moment Now, there's a bar near Liverpool Street Station called Dirty Dick's. I'll see you there at five-thirty. Bless you, sweetheart. Must dash.'
Olivia switched off her phone and replaced it in her bag. It wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting, she thought flatly, but at least he wasn't angry about her gaffe at Declan's. And in a few hours she was going to see him.
She straightened her shoulders and continued her way up the stairs.
Just hearing Jeremy's voice on the phone seemed to have changed her luck, because the woman who interviewed her this time seemed friendly and upbeat about Olivia's chances of finding work.
'However, it won't necessarily be in this area,' she said. 'We have several branches, and clients all over London, and we deal with everything from large multinationals down to one-man bands. Do you drive?'
'Yes, but I don't have a car. Travelling doesn't worry me, though,' she said, mentally crossing her fingers.
'And you've no ties? No children to be picked up from school?'
'I'm not married.'
The other woman raised her eyebrows. 'What difference does that make these days?' She handed Olivia an application form. 'Complete these details for me, please, including a daytime telephone number where you can be contacted, and I'll have a placement for you by the end of the week—or earlier, maybe, if someone calls in sick.' She produced another form. 'And these are the agency's terms and conditions of employment Read them through, and sign at the bottom if you're satisfied.' She paused, and smiled. 'My name's Sandra Wilton. Welcome to Service Group.'
Olivia allowed herself a modest lunchtime celebration of a hot chicken sandwich and a diet drink, then set out to unravel the mysteries of the London Underground system.
By the end of the day she was confident enough to launch herself towards the City on the Central Line.
She found Dirty Dick's quite easily, hesitating for a moment over whether to choose the door straight ahead of her or go downstairs. She opted for street level, pausing just inside the door so that her eyes could readjust to the subdued lighting. It was a big room, with a long bar, a wooden floor, and barrels for tables.
It was already filling up noisily with dark City suits and briefcases, and Olivia paused, staring around her, trying to locate Jeremy.
She saw him at last, waving at her from the side of the room, where a shelf had been built along the wall, and equipped with stools for customers who preferred to sit.
Her heart leapt as she threaded her way through the laughing, chattering groups, but she couldn't help wishing that he'd come to her.
'Darling.' His arms closed round her, hugging her tightly against him. 'This is amazing. God, it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much.'
'I've missed you too.' Now that the moment of truth had come, she felt oddly shy. 'That's why I came.'