She steeled herself and looked at the pillow beside her. The other side of the bed was empty. She breathed out in relief, noticing her case spilling open on the floor and her phone charging on the executive desk. It was her suite, and she was pretty sure she was alone.
But why couldn’t she remember what had happened the night before?
Alcohol, that was why. It didn’t take a genius to work out the reason for the banging head and the lurching stomach, but Evie resisted admitting it for another ten minutes, staggering around the room searching for painkillers, all the while telling herself she was coming down with the flu. She came to a stop in the bathroom, shielding her eyes from the blinding over-sink light, and filled a tumbler from the tap. She swallowed two paracetamol, then sank to her knees and rested her head on her hands on top of the toilet seat.
After a few minutes, Evie pushed herself up and looked in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
‘You’ve looked better,’ she told herself. ‘A lot better.’
She reached for the shower control and turned it to cold. Time to try and wake up her memory.
*
By the time Evie stepped out of the lift and picked her way to the restaurant for breakfast, she’d fixed her hair and managed to hide the worst effects of the hangover with a healthy coating of make-up. She figured some coffee and toast would make her feel better in no time.
The threatened eight inches of snow had turned out to be no more than a scattering of white fluff on the ground, even though the storm had raged all night. She remembered the wind howling and rattling the secondary glazing, while the rain clattered off the flat roof of a building outside her window. But that was still all she could remember.
At least it was still early – hopefully she wouldn’t have to face Michael until she’d managed to remember what, if anything, had happened between them.
‘Evie! Over here.’
Oh, no. Just her bad luck. Evie tried to smile, but it was little more than a baring of teeth.
‘Morning,’ she said, flopping into the chair Michael held out for her.
‘Morning,’ he boomed. Evie winced and shrank back. She took the menu from him, then placed it down without a glance.
‘Coffee, please,’ she said to the waiter. ‘And toast. Lots of coffee and lots of toast.’
Michael grinned. ‘Are we feeling a bit the worse for wear this morning?’
‘I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I feel like I’m coming down with the flu.’
‘Ah, yes. The flu. You probably are. It’s a common reaction to drinking two bottles of wine, three cocktails and goodness knows how many shots.’
Evie winced again and hid behind her hands. ‘I didn’t.’
‘You did. Don’t you remember?’
‘I don’t remember anything.’
‘Nothing at all?’ His voice was soft, teasing.
Evie shook her head, glad he couldn’t see her face.
‘Don’t worry. You weren’t the only one who overindulged. You won’t see many of the delegates looking too chirpy this morning.’
‘You seem chirpy enough,’ Evie said, peering out from between her fingers. ‘You don’t seem to have the flu at all.’
‘I have a strong constitution. And a remarkable tolerance for alcohol.’
‘Unlike me,’ Evie said with a groan.
‘Yes. Unlike you.’
Michael carried on eating his cooked breakfast – which Evie couldn’t even bring herself to look at – while she munched her toast and gulped down two cups of strong coffee.
‘What’s the news on the trains?’ she asked. ‘I checked my timetable and there should be one to Bristol at eight thirty.’
‘You’ll be fine, I think. There was some snow on the line, but at least they’re running again. Evie, I was thinking – as we’re both heading in the same direction, why don’t I give you a lift?’
Evie put down her cup and stared at him. ‘You have a car?’
‘Yes, of course. Don’t you?’
‘Well, yes. But not here, with me. You have a car
here
?’
Michael nodded. ‘Parked outside. And I won’t even have to dig it out of the snow, which is good news.’
‘But …’ Evie struggled to organise her thoughts into words. ‘But you could have driven us both to Bristol last night, couldn’t you? Don’t you have an important meeting as well?’
‘I told you, I had it rearranged. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been a good idea to drive in those conditions. And I’m pretty sure they closed the bridge. Besides …’ He tailed off, grinning.
‘What?’ Evie said.
‘Well, I’m quite glad we were stuck here. I wouldn’t have missed out on last night for the world.’
Evie swallowed, suddenly feeling sick all over again. She looked at his face for clues, but all she saw was his wide smile and those dimples. Surely she would remember if they’d slept together?
But then what were all those pictures in her head when she woke up?
‘It’s all a bit of a blank, to be honest,’ she told him. ‘Perhaps you could fill me in?’ And be gentle with me, she didn’t add. If I made a total idiot of myself, I’m not sure I want to know.
‘Well,’ Michael said, looking at her thoughtfully, ‘we had dinner, which was lovely. We talked, which was also lovely. You told me all about your grandparents, Mavis and Frank, and how you’re really worried about them because they’re in some kind of pickle and you’ve been called in to help them out. You told me you’ve been accused of having a “rescuer complex” and that your last boyfriend left you because once you’d rescued him he didn’t want to be reminded of what a stuff-up he’d been when he met you.’
Evie groaned and dropped her head onto the table. ‘I can’t believe I told you all that,’ she said, her voice muffled by the napkin.
‘You also told me that you’re the only one of your friends who isn’t in a serious relationship, but that as you’re only twenty-nine you don’t see why that should be such a massive problem. And you had an argument with the MD of BuildSurge about the relative merits of George Clarke. That was quite impressive, actually. I’ve never seen that old dinosaur lost for words before.’
Evie mimed banging her head against the table, then sat up and looked around. ‘He’s not here now, is he?’
Michael shook his head. ‘He already checked out. But he told me to tell you that if you ever need a job you should give him a call.’
‘Wow. So I didn’t totally embarrass myself?’
Laughing, Michael reached across the table and touched her arm. ‘You were brilliant, Evie. You were fantastic company. Is any of it coming back to you?’
She nodded. In fact, most of it had come flooding back as soon as he’d started to speak, but it was interesting to find out what he remembered. Whether he’d been paying attention. She could feel her ears turning red with the memory of how drunk she’d been. She remembered leaning on Michael’s arm, gazing into his eyes. They’d laughed a lot, and talked and talked. But nothing else. She was pretty sure about that. She had a clear recollection of being gallantly escorted to her room and letting herself in – and closing the door behind her. Alone.
Which was both a relief and a shame, to be honest.
‘Have you spoken to your grandparents this morning?’ Michael said.
‘I have. It’s turned out fine, actually. The meeting I told you about? It was put back to this afternoon.’
She wondered about his offer of a lift – would he bring it up again or was it up to her now? Evie didn’t want their connection to end just yet. She nursed her coffee and watched his hands as he ripped open a sachet of sugar and poured it into his drink, trying not to imagine those hands exploring her body the way they had in her early morning daydream.
‘What exactly are they expecting of you?’ he asked, dragging her back to the present. ‘You mentioned something to do with their house. Is that why they need you? Because you’re an architect?’
‘I’m not really … Well, yes. Sort of. They live in this beautiful old Victorian street – Cupid’s Way it’s called, and it’s amazing, so full of character. It’s under threat from some horrible cut-throat developer who wants to build a shopping centre on the land, or something equally awful, and they’re hoping I can help organise some kind of realistic opposition to put to the planners. But today, this afternoon, I’m pretty sure it’s just an initial meeting. You know, so they can let the little guys see who they’re going up against and get all intimidated. I know exactly how these kinds of things work.’
That at least was true. Lee, Lee and Meredith had been involved in enough high-powered planning wrangles for Evie to have the inside track on dirty tactics.
Michael had stopped stirring his coffee, his hand suspended above the white china mug. His eyes seemed fixed on a point just beyond her left shoulder, and Evie swung around to see what was there. Nothing. She turned back to find him pushing his chair away from the table and standing up.
‘Evie, I have to go. I’m sorry … I’ve just realised I’m going to be very late.’
‘But I thought you said your–’
The look on his face stopped her mid-sentence. The easy smile had disappeared; the dimples were a memory. His expression was blank, almost stern. Except that was ridiculous. There was no reason for him to suddenly go all cold on her.
He reached down and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was so light, if she hadn’t seen him do it she would have doubted it even happened.
‘Good luck, Phoebe Sloan,’ he said, and then he was gone.
Chapter 4
Evie’s train pulled into Bristol bang on time. She stepped onto the platform and let out a sigh of relief. Even after eight years of living away, the city still felt like home. Meeting Michael, giving her talk, the stress of even getting to the conference in the first place – right now it felt like it had happened to a completely different person. At least she could relax now, spend a couple of weeks being cosseted by the sweetest people she knew. They loved her no matter what. It was exactly the sort of love she needed.
Evie spotted Mavis and Frank immediately. Truth is, they were kind of hard to miss.
‘Gran, you look amazing.’ Evie held the older woman at arm’s length and laughed in delight. Mavis Stone was resplendent in a hot pink leisure suit, complete with Reeboks, and sported a new dyed-blonde hair style that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a woman half her age. Or possibly a third her age.
‘She’s a stunner, alright,’ Frank Stone agreed, pulling Evie into a bear hug. He towered over her, and Evie could feel the bones in his back through his woollen coat. She ducked out of his embrace and held onto his hands.
‘You’re both completely gorgeous. And a sight for sore eyes, I can tell you. At one point yesterday I really didn’t think I was going to make it here at all.’
‘Neither did we.’ Mavis and Frank spoke in unison, and Evie laughed again.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get back to your place and I can tell you all about my trip.’
Frank drove a Motability supermini so narrow there was barely enough room on the back seat for Evie and her suitcase. His scalp brushed against the roof of the car every time he turned his head.
‘Does this thing even go over thirty miles an hour?’ Evie said when they joined the bypass.
‘Not with this old grouch driving,’ Mavis told her, craning her neck to see into the back. ‘He’s worried about losing his licence. Thinks if he gets so much as a ticket the police will whip it off him before you can say “bus pass”.’
‘Bus passes aren’t such a bad thing, are they?’ Evie watched a cyclist overtake them on the inside lane.
Mavis put her finger to her lips. ‘Frank has a new saying – “We’re not old, we’re retro.” I think he’s in denial.’
Evie smiled to herself. Her grandfather wasn’t the only one, by the looks of things. She leaned her head against the window and watched the familiar sights roll by. The nightclub where she’d had her first kiss. The river that ran through the centre of the city, where she’d walked hand in hand with Petey Bateman fifteen years ago, feeling buoyant and full of promise. The branch of Superdrug where she’d first experimented with make-up, and the old part of town, home to countless doorways perfect for secret snogging, or just for hanging out with her friends.
Happy memories. Most of them, anyway.
‘Weren’t you affected by the storm here at all?’ she asked as they passed some hoardings behind which huge cranes posed like giant metal swans. One of the hoardings had come loose from its concrete base, slumping back on itself at an odd angle, but this was the only evidence of wind damage Evie had seen so far. Mavis started to answer, but Evie interrupted her. ‘Hold on, isn’t that where the coach station used to be?’
Mavis nodded. ‘Another casualty of progress. It’s going to be a fancy-schmancy hotel, I heard. Or possibly more shops.’
‘Because what we really need around here is more shops,’ Frank said. His voice held more venom than Evie had heard in a long time.
‘You don’t sound too happy about it, Gramps. Has this got something to do with Cupid’s Way?’
‘Kind of.’ Mavis looked at her husband’s stony profile, then turned back to Evie. ‘It’s the same company – Dynamite Construction. They’re everywhere right now, and not just in this city either. We looked them up on the computer and they are huge. I mean, enormous. They’re building shopping centres and retail parks and those leisure complex thingies. And houses too, of course. All over the place. Frank says it’s hopeless, going up against a company like that.’
Frank made a huffing sound as he flicked down the indicator. Mavis paused, but when he didn’t speak she carried on in a hushed tone.
‘Their CEO is going to be at the meeting today. He’s flying in from Germany, apparently. It’s got the others really het up. They’re talking as if it’s a done deal already, but it can’t be, can it?’
‘Of course not.’ Evie took her grandmother’s hand in hers. She was taken aback by how light it felt, dry bones wrapped in tissue-paper-skin. ‘It’s not a done deal until planning consent has been given, Gran, and even then there’s an appeal process. But we’re eons away from that stage. This is just a preliminary meeting, you said. Just for the residents of Cupid’s Way to see what’s being proposed.’
Mavis opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out by a torrent of abuse from the driver’s seat. Frank swerved so sharply Evie nearly hit her head on the window. He stopped the car and yanked on the handbrake. Evie pushed herself upright and peered between her grandparents’ heads.