Special Relationship (22 page)

On the first floor there was the main living room and off of that a study and a gym. From the living room, he opened a door to the balcony. Alex went out to look at the sea.

Up more stairs were three bedrooms, two of them ensuite, and a bathroom. Every part of the house looked Sunday-magazine style luxury.

"It's fabulous, so perfect. In my next contract I'm going to include a clause that I must work from Nick's Sandbanks' home."

He laughed. "Let's get something to eat and drink."

They went downstairs and looked again in the fridge. They decided on seaf
ood with crusty bread which he prepared while Alex sat at the kitchen bar, sipping wine and looking out at the sea.

"There's nothing that is more relaxing," she said.

"What's that?"

"The sea, just watching the waves. Do you know when I came to England I arrived on a ship."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Just sat there reading and watching the sea for seven days."

"Why? The plane is just seven hours."

"But the plane doesn't cleanse your mind."

"And why did you need your mind cleansed?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She had her back to him but he guessed the look of pain that he had seen in her face before would be there.

"Here, seafood salad and crusty bread from Nick's place."

She turned around to
reveal she was crying. "I'm sorry, I need to go to the bathroom," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Nick followed her. "What is it Alex, did I say something?"

"No, it wasn't you." She went on into the bathroom and locked the door.

"Alex, I'm outside. If there is anything you want or want to talk about, just ask."

After the taps had been running for five minutes he decided she was using them to muffle the sound of her sobs. After five minutes more they were finally turned off and eventually the door opened. "I am so, so sorry," she said.

"Don't be silly, whatever is troubling you we can talk about or not talk about - it's up to you."

"No, I'm fine now, honestly."

He struggled with what to say when they got back downstairs. She was sat at the chair drinking wine but not eating the food. "You know I do a mean English
breakfast," he said. "So if you are not hungry now there will be a lavish meal coming your way first thing."

"No, I'm fine now Nick, I'm just so sorry."

"Stop apologising."

They ate and drank wine and
she perked up. Her beautiful smile returned as she heard Nick recount his experience in front of a group of angry politicians who wanted to know why him and his ilk had screwed up the world economy.

"They were shouting at me like I was a schoolboy. But I hadn't done anything wrong. We never
asked for a penny of public money and our fund actually did quite well because we were short a lot of stuff."

"Short?"

"Yeah, means we were betting on things to go down, which, as you know, they did quite dramatically. Anyway, my point is that as well as racism and sexism we now have something in the UK, if not the US as well, called bankerism."

"Or
Nickism," Alex laughed.

He was relieved and very happy that she was smiling again.

It was dark now but the beach was floodlit so they could still see small waves lapping against the sand.

"Fancy a stroll?" he asked.

They walked for maybe half a mile, the sand looking like powdered gold under the lights and the sea reminded them gently of its presence, occasionally throwing in a bigger wave than you'd expect for such a serene evening.

"That's another thing about the sea," said Alex as they were returning. "You never know what mood it's going to be in, sometimes tranquil like tonight, other times really angry. It, like, has a personality. But whatever mood it's in I just love it. Whereas with humans you don't want to be around them when they are angry I want to be with the sea whether it's in a good mood or a bad one.

"Anyway, not trying to waffle or anything, what I am trying to say is that my love of the sea is one of the reasons I couldn't resist your invitation."

"And the other reasons?"

"Well, helicopter trip, big house, nothing else on..."

"Be careful, Miss Anderson, or on the return trip I'll ask the pilot to do one of his famous roll
over's."

"Helicopters don't roll over, you sod. I might be blonde but I'm not stupid."

He smiled at her, wondering whether there could be a more adorable woman on the planet.

When they got back to the house, he still resisted the temptation to play anything other than the gentleman card and, after carrying her luggage to her room, he kissed her on the cheek goodnight and told her breakfast would be ready at ten.

As they lay in their separate beds waiting for sleep, he wondered what it was that so troubled her and Alex wondered whether Nick was too good to be true.

Alex was woken by the sound of Nick leaving his room and descending the timber stairs. She checked the time on her phone – it had just gone nine.

Looking forward to the day ahead, she got herself out of bed, first sitting on its edge, feeling a bit fragile after all the wine and the trauma of her first helicopter flight the day before. She then showered quickly and put on a robe before going to join him.

He was already dressed in blue, knee-length shorts and white T-shirt.

"Morning," she said.

"Hi, how did you sleep?"

"Log-like."

"Everything alright. Worked the shower and everything?"

"There was water coming at me from all directions and the temperature kept changing. Quite an experience."

"Yes, Swedish shower, not dodgy plumbing."

"It was certainly invigorating."

"And now, young lady, the highlight of your trip, Nick's full English breakfast. Poached, fried or scrambled?"

She smiled. "Poached, please."

"Wise choice. I am not a snob but I do get worried by guests who choose fried."

He handed her some apple juice and promised that coffee would follow as soon as he had mastered the intricacies of the machine. While he struggled turning knobs one way and the other, she apologised again. "I'm sorry about my emotional outburst last night. It was really nothing to do with you."

"Just as well or this could make for an awkward couple of days," he said, laughing it off.

"I think we should have some newspapers at the door if you want them," he told her as he peered into the top of the coffee machine.

She went to find The Times, The Guardian and The Sun all waiting on the mat outside. "That's an
eclectic choice of papers," she said, using both hands as she carried the pile of them back to the kitchen.

"Best to know what the country is thinking."

Then, having finally cracked the making of coffee, he handed her a latte. "Now, breakfast," he said while she was reading a Sun story about Britain sweltering in a prolonged heat wave.

They ate eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and tomatoes with toast. "Better than Frank's," she said honestly.

"Yep, but I charge more than Frank's," he joked.

After breakfast, Alex went upstairs to get dressed, putting on pastel peach shorts to show off the long legs that had already been tanned jogging in London, and a white vest. They had decided on a morning walk, some lunch and then to spend the afternoon on the beach.

The beach at Sandbanks was as lovely as she'd seen, a wide space of sand sparkling against the sun and the further they walked along the coast the busier it became with more and more people laid out on bath towels and in loungers enjoying the weather.

"Did you bring your phone, Nick?"

"Nope,"

"Me neither."

They had been walking for nearly an hour and with the extra effort required by the sand, she had to admit she was tiring, so they stopped at a cafe at Branksome Beach and ordered a jug of iced tea.

She took off her sunglasses, hooking them to the front of her vest, and looked at him. "You know, if you don't mind me saying, you don't strike me as the sort of guy who is up there in The Sunday Times Rich List and said to be one of Britain's most eligible bachelors."

"Really?" he replied. "I hope you haven't been checking up on me."

"Well, obviously we did a little research, just for business of course. And I don't mean it in a bad way. Just that you are so normal. I expected you to be the
playboy type, you know private clubs, exclusive nightclubs, Monte Carlo and all that stuff.

"I mean this is a gorgeous location but it's accessible by all. We've been to Frank's, Hampton Court, we are here now in a nice cafe, but it's just not the lifestyle I envisaged for someone so wealthy."

"You are disappointed?"

"No, I love it! I love it that you are so normal."

"I still enjoy doing the things I did as a kid and the family had a caravan not far from here. Men never grow up, you know that, don't you? Most people in my business were born rich, so that's why they do Monte Carlo and all that because that's what they did when they were kids. This is what I did as a kid."

"You didn't do helicopters as a kid."
"You've got me there, but that was practical, just to get us down here in the shortest possible time, not to live the playboy lifestyle. I loved our breakfast at Frank's."

Alex looked into his dark eyes and tried to assess how much and how fast she was falling for him. If he disappeared from her life tomorrow, how would she feel? Were they kindred spirits or was he just a rich man playing a game, as the texts suggested.

They walked on to Bournemouth and along the pier, where in the amusements they placed ten-pence bets on mechanical horses running along a green felt track. "You've won fifty pence," she shrieked. "You are rich!"

She noticed how happy he looked as he collected the coins and handed them to her, telling her, jokingly, to treat herself.

Outside, she won a very small teddy bear on the rifle range, while he won nothing, and she ribbed him about it as they stood at the edge of the pier with ice creams and watched the ever-growing number of people bathing in the sun.

They skipped lunch and took a taxi back to Sandbanks so they could
enjoy their own beach time. She put on her swimsuit and looked at herself in the mirror from various different angles before deciding there wasn't much to be worried about.

She put a T-Shirt and shorts on top, and a book, some sun cream and her mobile into her bag. Then she grabbed some towels from the bathroom to lay on.

"Let's hit the beach, Mr Hensen," she shouted across the hall.

She felt self-conscious as she pulled off her shirt and shorts after they had laid down the towels, but if Nick was looking at her in her swimsuit he was doing so surreptitiously. With him wearing sunglasses, it was hard to tell where he was looking. His head, was not pointed in her direction but his eyes might have been.

Her quick glimpses at him showed strong arms, a well-formed chest and neither too little or too much body hair for her preference. Wait till I tell Kerry, she thought as she laid down beside him, pretending to read her book.

"Glad you came?" he mumbled.

"What's not to like?" she responded quickly, although nearer the sea a young boy and a girl were playing with a beach ball and giggling loudly, and Alex had to look away.

"Restaurant tonight?" he asked.

"Sounds good...unless you want to do another of your famous breakfasts."

"You know what someone once said, that to eat well in England you should eat breakfast three times a day."

"No, English breakfast, curry for lunch and fish and chips for dinner," she replied.

She looked up again. The children who had been playing were no longer in her view and she watched a small boat, white, with a red top, bobbing on the sea. She thought of how her life had changed since she had moved to England .

She glanced at Nick who was dozing in the sun and thought about texting Kerry but she was wary about switching on her phone for fear of what messages might be waiting. When she eventually found the courage to press the 'on' button she was relieved to find none.

She typed out her message. "On the beach, nice walk earlier, so far so good x" and pressed the 'send' button.

Switching off the phone, she laid down again and watched the one cloud in the sky move slowly to block the sun for a short time. She then closed her eyes and thought of how she could be blissfully happy and desperately sad at the same time and which extreme might win through. She decided that, at best, it could only ever be somewhere in between.

Later, she finally got into the book, and read four chapters of The Magus - whose main character, ironically, was named Nicholas - before she decided to rouse him from his slumber. "You are going pink, Nick," she said prodding him in the stomach.