Hide in Time Read online

  “Well now you have a gnome too.”

  “A gnome to home,” Laura felt her composure slipping away. As quick as an ant changes tack, she said, “I have an idea. I have a friend…”

  “An idea and a friend. You have more than I.”

  Laura beamed, oh how she warmed to this client. “I should like to introduce my friend to you. You’ve had some practice – just as you suggested – time for you to meet Mr Right?”

  Xandra smiled. “Is there such a man and is he a client?”

  “There is and he is,” said Laura. “He’s also a friend. I met him when I first… well that’s beside the point. My idea is for him to treat us both to afternoon tea at Claridges.” Her formal manner was slipping; she must maintain it. ‘Hang on in there,’ Matt would have coached her, oblivious of the irony.

  Xandra shook her head. “I couldn’t intrude.”

  “Oh you wouldn’t. Although we had already arranged to meet, this would be an ideal time to introduce you personally. Claridges is his second home. Well,” Laura backtracked, “It’s his favourite hotel, shall I say.” This was not a chat with a friend; she must be wholly accurate with clients. She struggled back to her professional manner, gestured at the chair opposite her desk and said, “Take a seat and I’ll show you his details.”

  Laura slid the blue folder across the desk. To allow Xandra time to assess the profile, she eased herself from her chair and went to the window. As was her custom, she threw in a few aids to appraise. “It’s important to have the same values’ system as each other and it certainly helps that our agency is for people with traditional values. Matthew Redfern does not need to work. Centuries ago, I could have recorded his occupation as ‘Gentleman’.” Drat! She was slipping into the old ways, Xandra seemed to induce these attacks. “These days, everybody works, of course.”

  Xandra looked up. “Hmm, it says his occupation is Psychologist.”

  Laura bit her lip and hesitated before replying, “Yes, he sees patients privately at various clinics including Harley Street. He’ll also,” she paused, “help those who,” she faltered again, “perhaps through no fault of their own, cannot afford his assistance.” Laura inhaled deeply. “He’s one of the best, um… he raises considerable sums for his various charities.”

  “His charities?”

  Laura fidgeted and hurriedly added, “He’s Patron of quite a number. If you’re interested, I shall ask him about them over tea, though it’s not something he talks about generally.”

  “I’d like to meet a man who puts something back into life.”

  “It took me a while but I’ve learnt now that he gives more than he has ever received.” She’d recovered her cool; she was greatly relieved. Silently she congratulated herself on using the word ‘cool’ in her thoughts. She must relax and sound contemporary and not like a match-making old aunt.

  “How so?”

  “I’m not talking just about money. I’m talking about the way he lives his life,” Laura said firmly.

  Without any discernible reaction, Xandra continued to study the profile of the man who was most likely to be the best match and catch that Laura would be able to find.

  Doubt, ever present, failed to halt the head of steam rising.

  ~

  By chance, or the politeness of kings, they all arrived at Claridges together – Laura and Xandra by taxi and Matt by Jaguar XKR. He was just giving the keys to the Commissionaire when he caught sight of them. As he turned, Laura felt that familiar catch in her breath. He was tall, dark-haired and had a pronounced smile line either side of his mouth. She loved that; it reminded her of Adam, but Adam had an extra line, caused by a nick from a blade. Matt bent to kiss Laura lightly on her cheek, lingering, indulging in the scent of her.

  “Lovely to see you again. I’m so pleased you both could join me for tea.”

  “Let me introduce Xandra Radcliffe.” Laura turned to Xandra. “Xandra, this is my good friend, Matthew Redfern.”

  Xandra held out her hand and Matt took it firmly in his. “Good to meet you, Xandra. I hope you’ll call me Matt.”

  Xandra’s response was in her customary low voice and Laura noticed the effect she had on Matt whether he liked it or not. She must give them every chance.

  The Commissionaire held the door open for them as they made their way inside. The concierge acknowledged Matt’s arrival as he led them across the black and white chequered marble floor towards afternoon tea being served in The Foyer. As the waitress showed the way to the reserved table, Matt allowed Xandra to go ahead and stole a quick moment with Laura.

  “You’re right. She’s delightful. Have you noticed how alike you are?” His dark eyes focused on hers.

  Laura was used to Matt’s teasing compliments and she merely dipped her head. And he was so like… Snap out of it, Laura.

  Once seated, and tea chosen, Matt turned to Xandra. “Laura tells me you’re a jeweller with premises in Covent Garden. A stimulating place to work, I imagine.”

  “Indeed it is,” said Xandra, also sounding very formal. “Though my workshop is not in Covent Garden itself; it’s in a quieter back street.”

  Laura looked at Xandra. “Back street? Just to be near Covent Garden is like being in the middle of the earth.” No, try again, Laura. “At the centre of the universe, I mean.”

  Matt smiled warmly at Laura then asked Xandra, “Do you have retail premises too?”

  But Xandra did not pick up the ball and run. “No,” was all she said as her eyes flicked from Matt to Laura and back again.

  Laura touched Matt’s jacket sleeve and marvelled at how well she had adjusted. She had not been brought up to be so intimate. “Oh Matt, you should see some of the pieces she fashions,” she corrected herself, “makes. She has commissions from such eminent people and creates the most exquisite necklaces and brooches. I’ve even commissioned her to copy something for me as she specializes in Georgian and Regency jewellery, don’t you, Xandra?”

  “I do.”

  Matt turned his attention to Xandra. “I’m very fond of the Georgian era. Does your interest in that period extend beyond the reproduction of jewellery?”

  Oh dear, thought Laura, Matt is still sounding formal. That was his style really and in the early days it had been reassuring for her. Or were they both nervous? Perhaps it was a good sign.

  “Yes,” replied Xandra. Then she took a tentative step along this avenue. “I’ve often thought I’d prefer to have lived then.”

  Laura shivered visibly. The tingle it caused only dissipated when the waitress attracted her attention. “Darjeeling? Was that for you, madam?”

  Matt noticed Laura’s uneasiness, glanced around him, guided the waitress on who was having what and commented on how relaxing the quiet buzz of conversation was.

  Laura tried to appear preoccupied with handing around the finger sandwiches; she must give them every opportunity to get to know each other and, so far, they were both sounding like two maiden aunts sizing one another up. She didn’t feel much better either.

  Matt took two sandwiches and switched to being the entertaining host. He turned to Laura and said, “Have I ever told you how I came to regard Claridges as my second home?”

  “Not yet,” Laura said with a grateful smile; he instinctively understood her.

  “It was my sister’s eighteenth birthday and, as an extra celebration, I invited her and a few of her girlfriends to afternoon tea. It was my fervent hope she might change from The Tomboy to The Lady if she caught the magic of a fine hotel. We had a splendid tea, crowned by liveried waiters processing towards us, just like they used to do. They were carrying a huge cake with lighted candles, and singing ‘Happy Birthday’.”

  “Ah,” said Laura, relaxing at last, “Fond memories endear a place…”

  “Particularly if, when one goes to pay the bill, there is no charge made for the cake,” Matt said with a flourish. “Kindness? Astute business instincts? It worked on both levels. I have rarely eaten or stayed anywhere
else in London.”

  Two hours later, they left in the black Jaguar, ‘with the lid off,’ as Laura always said.

  ~

  “I cannot fault him,” said Xandra when she rang Laura the following morning.

  Here comes the but, thought Laura.

  “But he’s not for me. He’s too perfect.”

  “Xandra, I don’t think you know your own worth.”

  “I’m not comfortable with someone who already has everything. Claridges really was his second home. All the staff behaved as if he lived there.”

  Laura could not respond to this easily. But she must not let Xandra misjudge someone as she once had. “Xandra, I know Matt very well. He uses his wealth to further the cause of…of…”

  While Laura searched for words that might persuade the determined Xandra to think again, Xandra said, “I didn’t feel ‘at home’ with him and the BlackBerry, the Jaguar and all the other accoutrements of his ultra-modern lifestyle.”

  “But,” oh no, she’d started on the ‘buts’ herself now, “but he has an appreciation and healthy respect of other people’s lifestyles too. Most men like gadgets.”

  “I would always feel like a visitor to his life.” Xandra laughed gently as she added, “I already feel like a visitor to my own world; to take on his too would derail me.”

  Derail? This train wouldn’t stop till it reached vanishing point. Laura knew that such a thought could not be voiced. “Vanishing” was a frightening concept.

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER THREE

  Torwell Bridge, Kent, England

  July 1814

  Parson Emmanuel Raffles was often called to comfort the bereaved; he was known for cheering the inconsolable, easing the pain of loss, and giving hope for the future. Today, though, he knew that all his experience in these matters counted for nothing.

  His dear friend, Adam Leigh-Fox, had just lost the only girl he had ever loved. So young too. Thus it was with ponderous footsteps he sought Adam in the rose garden planted in remembrance of Adam’s mother. There, in the far corner, he found him seated on a wrought iron bench. Hunched would be a better word, he thought as he padded silently along the path.

  “Johnson told me I’d likely find you here.” Adam straightened himself. “Don’t get up, my good friend, just shuffle along a little and make room for my slender self.”

  Adam managed a wry smile though he continued to stare at a blade of grass. “There are many good-hearted words one might use to describe you, Raffles, but slender is not one of them. You may recall that unfortunate orphaned girl you nearly catapulted off a similar bench just last year?”

  “How could I forget?” Pastor Raffles chuckled softly at the memory. “I was grateful you were there to put your foot on her end of the bench and bring her back to terra firma.”

  “And so, I am sure, was she.” Adam shifted on the bench, making just enough room for his friend. “I think I will hold my ground better than she did.”

  The mood was slightly lighter, even so, Raffles joined Adam in staring at the ground. Focusing on an ant unsuccessfully struggling to move a dead insect, he became aware that Adam, too, was watching as the ant scurried off to return shortly with several helpers. Together they pushed and pulled the body assuredly towards their unseen nest. Succour for all.

  The thought came to Raffles that God speaks in many ways. He decided against voicing it for, and there was no doubt about this at all, if God was speaking to anyone, it was to Adam not him. Furthermore, he scratched his head at this point, what exactly was God saying?

  Striding across the rose garden, not following the pathways, Adam’s elder brother, John, known to the family as Jack, swore as his jacket caught on an overgrown bush. “I suppose you’ll say…” and here he assumed a whine, “We’ve no money to pay for gardeners – you’ve spent it all.” He stomped closer to the two friends and stood firmly in front of them. “I’ve remedied that situation: I’ve sold mother’s jewellery.”

  Raffles put a restraining hand on Adam’s arm.

  Adam reluctantly settled back on the seat and stared at his brother. “Is that what you’ve come to tell us?”

  “Of course not! I’m just informing you. I want to know where the key to the drawing room is and why it is locked.”

  Raffles knew his presence protected the wily Jack from Adam’s wrath. Righteous wrath.

  Neither Adam nor Raffles replied.

  Jack repeated his question but still received no answer. “You pack rat, squirreling our assets away. Why can’t you see?” He paused, as if deliberating how to deliver his next words for maximum effect. “You’ve no future now anyway. She’s gone. For ever.” He turned and strutted away. Yelling over his shoulder he crowed, “Nearly a week has gone by. She won’t be found.”

  Raffles sighed in his most exaggerated fashion. “Pack rat squirreling. Huh!”

  Ignoring Raffles’ attempt to mock Jack, Adam said, “He’s right, of course, I know she won’t be found alive now. Yet moments before you arrived, I felt as though she were here, with me.”

  “A comfort?”

  Adam nodded. “Yes, a silent, unintrusive comfort.” He returned to staring at the ground. “He’s squashed those resourceful ants.”

  Satan had slithered into the garden of Eden: Jack had stormed into this one. They both destroyed. Something should be done.

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Middleston, Kent, England

  September 2009

  A Pirates’ Party. Yes, that would be the thing. Laura picked up the diary on her desk to look for a suitable date. Hire the paddle steamer, steam up the river, top-of-the-range buffet and a live band. That would be a good way to celebrate. Not everyone would want to dress up, of course, but there was scope for fetching outfits. She’d have to think of a better word than fetching. Perhaps sexy would be the contemporary word? Anyway, the men might look authentic in bandannas and stripey shirts and the ladies could be flirty molls or captured princesses. Yes, this could work.

  So absorbed was Laura that she nearly forgot she was supposed to be giving blood in the mobile unit at the bottom of the hill. She raced out of the office. She was a rare blood group; well, fairly rare; enough for them to request she came regularly. Until quite recently, women with the Rhesus A negative blood group used to have complications in childbirth, she’d been told. They had usually only had the one child successfully. It was a New Zealand doctor who’d made the breakthrough – or was it? She’d forgotten. There’d been so much to learn. Anyway, if she had children now, they’d be all right, that’s what she’d been assured. Donating blood took an hour of her time but it was a great way to show her gratitude.

  On her return, Laura became increasingly enthusiastic about the party, drawing up plans for the skull and crossbones to fly from the aft deck, and searching the Internet for pirate paraphernalia. It flashed through her mind how Matt had tried to explain how it worked, nearly five years ago now. He’d drawn a diagram showing how all these boxes linked up and she – she could never think of this without blushing – she had had got down on her hands and knees and tried to follow the wiring.

  But oh how she loved the Internet; she’d love to thank Tim Berners Lee personally. She knew she couldn’t but she was glad he’d been knighted. Knighted! And he’d probably never even been on a horse. She hadn’t noticed the time or even the darkening sky and that she’d not put the lights on in the office.

  Then she remembered she was now late to meet Xandra. It had been a relief to return to the work of the agency and nearly a whole day had passed without Xandra infiltrating her thoughts. Infiltrate. Why had she used such a word? The street door buzzer alerted her to a visitor. “Xandra? Is that you?” she said through the intercom.

  “Yes.”

  Laura smiled; Xandra used only sufficient words to convey a situation, she saw no need for, now what were they called? Adjacents and verb additions. No, that wasn’t right. Additio
nal embellishments, that would have to do. As Xandra entered the office, casually dressed in jeans and a loose top, Laura burst into a volley of apologies, “I’m so sorry; I was engrossed in plans for the forthcoming party, I haven’t even put the lights on. Do forgive me, I’ll just shut this down.” She whizzed the mouse around and watched the screen change. So clever.

  “Party?”

  “Yes, to celebrate the agency’s birthday. I give one every year.” Laura enthused about pirates, booty and treasure trove. “I even have a trunk that might serve as a prop. We could fill it with your diamonds, and gold jewellery, Xandra; what do you think?”

  Xandra visibly relaxed and playfully objected. As the computer turned itself off it left the office in semi-darkness and Xandra glanced out of the window. “Laura, something odd is happening across the road at Cornell’s.”

  Laura hurried over and watched with growing alarm. Three men in baseball caps with dark, hooded T shirts over the top, were hurrying towards the recessed doorway of the jewellers apparently checking no one was around or watching them. They failed to raise their eyes above street level, perhaps to avoid any CCTV cameras.

  Xandra took a deep breath, exhaled, then snapped, “Stay here, Laura. Call the police.”

  Laura seized the phone, punched in 999 then intermittently gave answers. “Police. Archangel Hill. Robbery. Cornell’s.” Xandra’s commanding style was catching and just what was needed at this point. The Police Station was not more than a few minutes away, thank God, for Xandra had already gone.

  Laura shot back to the window again in time to see Xandra position herself in line with an axe-wielding man; behind him was a man with a bat. They had all donned balaclavas. The man with the axe had barely lifted it with his right hand before Xandra grabbed his wrist. As she shoved it behind him, the man yowled. Pain forced him forwards and Xandra niftily swiped his feet from under him with her foot. He fell on his face, dropping the axe. Xandra grabbed it and flung it towards the agency doorway.