Special Relationship (19 page)

In the car, he formally introduced her to the driver, Christos
Georgiades, who drove for Nick to support his family back in Greece.

“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Anderson. I had to check ten times with Mr
Hensen that the venue was right, and very sorry for being part of the joke.”

“No worries Christos, I don't blame you, just your boss.”

“He is a very bad man,” Christos laughed.

Alex liked the way the driver could joke with his boss without any obvious fear of reprimand.

He dropped them at the the first shop, but after a while had to drive around the block several times to dodge the parking wardens.

Nick and Alex decided they had to be quick if they wanted to make the most of their Hampton Court trip and she wasn't too picky in getting a summer dress, a jacket and some trainers. The outfit that she had been wearing was placed in a bag in the back of the car which Christos said he would deliver to her flat in the evening.

“OK, all done, I think we need Westminster Pier.. .apparently there is a boat at eleven, so foot down, CG,” said Nick.

Alex asked once again to pay for the clothing but Nick refused and Christos, again showing no concern about upsetting the man who paid him, argued that if she had known she was going to Frank's she would have “dressed more appropriate,” as he put it. “And also I'll charge overtime for this evening,” he laughed.

“You only work thirty hours a week, as it is, so don't push it,” Nick retorted before looking at his phone to see a text message, among others, from Katherine.

“Where are you and are you in today?”

He replied “Day off, see you tomorrow,” only to receive a call from her a couple of minutes later. Although it made him feel very guilty after what had happened in New York, he pressed the reject button. He did the same when Tavis called as the car arrived at the Pier and then switched off the device so that he could enjoy his day out with Alex.

He also felt uncomfortable about not telling Alex what he'd found out why she was shopping, that the boat journey took a full three hours, compared to twenty minutes on the train. He doubted that she knew, but didn't want her to pull out as the two of them on a boat
for so long was to him a pleasant prospect, although he realised he'd probably need Christos to drive them back.

They arrived just in time to get their tickets and catch The Connaught, a vessel built more than 100 years earlier but continually refurbished since then. It still retained its Edwardian charm and, though facilities were basic, Nick looked forward to the lengthy trip.

It was only when it left the Embankment that he mentioned what he had found out earlier.

“Three hours! I thought
it would be about 40 minutes,” she said. “Hope you are not going to get bored.”

“Not me,” said Nick.

“I think it's a great way to travel,” she replied. “I'm going to turn my phone off.”

They passed Lambeth Palace, which the tour guide informed them had been the residence of the the Church of England's principal, the Archbishop of Canterbury since the 13
th
century. From there they cruised at a very leisurely pace past The Tate, which housed some of the country's most treasured art works; the affluent homes of Putney and Barnes, and Strand On The Green where Oliver Cromwell planned his battles against the Crown which led to Parliament surpassing Royalty as the maker of England's laws.

“
So much history,” she said, still fearing that a multi-millionaire might have preferred to be spending his day in what might be more familiar surroundings. But what those might be she couldn't guess – the more she knew of him the more she realised he didn't fit the stereotype.

“I haven't don
e this trip since I was a kid,” he said. "I guess living here you take things for granted. I'm glad I came.”

“Me too,” said Alex, smiling at him.

After Kew, they passed inns, towns and grand houses significant in the chronicles of the country's history. For the first time in ages, she felt wonderfully relaxed and untroubled. In some way imagining the past lives of others helped her think more about her own present.

He
bought them iced fruit juice and scones at the bar and they conversed easily about the places on the route.

Ham House caught Alex's imagination. A 17
th
century red-brick building, three storeys high across nine bays, was according to the announcer on the boat the residence of several royal mistresses in the 18
th
and 19
th
centuries.

“I bet those walls could tell a few tales,” she said. “Love to know what went on with all those royals and nobility.”

“I doubt they spent all their time playing backgammon,” Nick said.

“Do you play?”

“You mean backgammon?” he quipped.

“Yes, you know exactly what I mean, Nicholas, and don't be so rude.”

“Of course I play, it's all about chance and maths, exactly what I do in the day job.”

“I am so going beat you,” she said.

“Don't stake your company, Alexandra,” he replied, thinking how Katherine had made almost the exact same comment in New York only days earlier. Again, it made him feel guilty.

“Look, Canada geese,” she pointed to him. “You know what they say about them?”

“What's that?”

“They stay with one partner for life. They only take a new one when one of them dies.”

“What happens if they choose the wrong partner in the beginning?”

“Could be a shit life,”
she smiled.

A couple of weeks ago she only knew Nick
Hensen by name. Now, he had a big presence in her life and, outside the text messages, mostly in a positive way. She loved it that a man so successful and wealthy could be so relaxed and normal - and normality was what she craved.

She was still thinking what a good time she was having and how relaxed she felt in his company, when they arrived at Hampton Court, and she quickly became transfixed with the Palace and its grounds. This is where English history was shaped by King Henry VIII and his six wives, she knew. The King
had made belonging to the Catholic church a treasonable offence, punishable by death.

“Divorced, executed, died, divorced, executed, survived. Every schoolboy knows that,”
he said as they were looking at a painting of Anne Boleyn.

“And Anne Boleyn, I know, was one of the executed.”

“Yes, for adultery – even with her own brother - and treason among other things,” Nick answered.

“Funny how infidelity can change lives.”

He was going to tell her that there was doubt whether the Queen had been adulterous at all but the comment took him by surprise. Was Alex finally loosening up and giving away something of her past?

He was still thinking about her remark as they toured the magnificent Great Hall, a huge medieval expanse where great banquets were held and Shakespeare plays performed. The walls were adorned with splendid tapestries, telling of lives past, and the heads of stags, spoils of the hunting trips of people who by dint only of ancestry became masters of all they purveyed.

“I love it here, it's the nearest I've come to time travel,” she remarked.

“I'm glad,” Nick said, briefly touching her on a shoulder. The physical contact, as hasty and placid it was, did not go unnoticed.

Later in the afternoon, they bought sandwiches, fruit and wine and picnicked in the gardens. Afterwards they tackled the maze, covering a third of an acre, and laughed hilariously as they continued to find nothing but dead-ends.

“We need a Sat
Nav,” joked Alex.

“No need, it's definitely this way, trust me, I'm a banker,” he laughed back but found only another impasse.

After they had finally found their way out they went to the park where deer roamed free.

“They are so cute,” said
Alex, with a big grin.

“And nice to eat too.”

She gave him a small punch in the stomach. “Leave Bambi alone you evil, evil banker!”

He grabbed hold of her, declaring that “We bankers have been abused enough” and in the jaunty struggle that followed they both ended up flat on the grass, laughing hysterically.

Nick wanted to kiss her at that moment but shied away in a heartbeat, worried that he might jeopardise a perfect day. She looked at him, half glad that he hadn't kissed her and half wondering why he hadn't.

“Can't believe we have to go back to the real world tomorrow,” he said in a regretful tone.

“You don't have to, do you, Mr rich man? Not like us workers who have to struggle on.”

“The office will be going mad that I've had my phone off all day,” he said.

“Me too...I mean 'me too'  as in they won't be going mad but 'me too' as in I've switched my phone off. Good, isn't it?”

As lovely and enjoyable as the day had been, they were tired by their trip and, with the sun cooling, they decided to find a nearby pub where Nick would phone Christos to save them the three-hour boat trip back to London.

Alex felt deflated that the day was coming to an end and a bit uneasy about what path she should take from now on, in her pursuit of serenity, if not happiness.

Christos picked them up at nearly eight, apologising for his delay due to the “bloody London traffic.” It took about an hour to get back to the city and, though his apartment was nearer, Nick insisted they dropped Alex first, not least because it gave him more time with her.

She wondered what her neighbours might think about her turning up in an expensive car with smartly-dressed chauffeur. At least Christos didn't wear a cap, she thought.

When they arrived, both of them became aware of the driver's presence and thought that any overly-fond farewell might be awkward. Nick kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for “a wonderful day,” avoiding the yearning to kiss her fully on the lips. Christos got out and handed her the
bag from earlier containing the clothes she had started the day in.

“Very nice to meet you, Miss Anderson.”

“And you Christos, you've been great, and thanks for making things so...err...easy for me.”

“You are welcome, and I hope I will be driving you around a lot more in the future.”

She smiled back at him and waved to Nick as she walked to her flat. What an absolutely brilliant day, she thought.

Inside, she was loathe to turn on her mobile for what might be on it, but she didn't use a landline and wanted to call Kerry. So she switched it on and didn't investigate the five missed calls, eight text messages and God knows how many emails, and fast-dialled Kerry.

“How did it go, babe?”

Alex loved her comforting voice, natural and always happy, and any fears that there might be a weird text message left her mind.

“You know what, Kels, it was perfect. The most perfect day – even more perfect than the day at the races.”

“Ha, told you there was nothing to worry about.”

The two of them talked for more than an hour, Alex telling her of the time in the park when she thought they were going to kiss, and didn't know whether she wanted to or not, and how great he had been throughout the day.

“You'll never guess where he took me for breakfast,” she said.

On learning the venue, Kerry opined that, as unfair as it seemed, it would have been an end-of relationship issue had she had been meeting anyone else - but with a very rich guy it seemed amazingly romantic.

“That's what I thought,” said Alex. “The snobbishness and hypocrisy of it.”

“Who cares about hypocrisy when you've got the chance of pulling Mr perfect. Just get into his boxers or whatever millionaires wear,” she laughed.

“Kerry, don't be so crude!”

However, when she got into bed just before midnight, it was Nick she was thinking of. Not being able to sleep because she was so aroused she decided there was only one way out. OK, Nick, any sex between us begins here, she thought, before spending some time pleasuring herself with his image in her mind. She then slept soundly for the rest of the night.

In the morning she debated when to check her phone. She'd put it on silent after her chat with Kerry the night before, and with the possibility that there might be some freaky text message on it, she didn't want to risk spoiling the memories of such a nice day sooner than was necessary.

She left it until arriving at the office, where Adrian was already busy performing his computer wizardry and Suzanne was compiling the monthly accounts on a spreadsheet.

When glancing through the texts the only one which caught her attention was one from Nick that read: “Thanks for a fabulous day x.”

She couldn't resist. “You too x,” she replied.

His next one came 15 minutes later but delivered with the humour that made him increasingly irresistible. “Anne Boleyn had her head chopped off. You had breakfast at Frank's.”