Melting Ms Frost (10 page)

‘If you could just leave me some money before you go,’ her mother tagged on lightly.

Springing upright from where she bent at the open fridge, Annabel blinked at her. ‘But I gave you some on Saturday. Don’t you remember?’

‘Of course I remember, darling. I’m not quite senile yet.’ Ellen gave a tinkling laugh. ‘But that was days ago.’

‘Two days ago.’ Annabel didn’t join in the humour. ‘And it was a hundred pounds, Mum.’

‘I know. London is so expensive, Bel. I don’t know how you manage. Your money’s gone before you know it!’

Frowning, Annabel closed the fridge door. ‘Gone where?’ she couldn’t resist asking, although she tried to keep her tone casual. Her mother seemed to play down how she spent the long hours that Annabel was at work. What if she was buying even more drink, hiding a worse problem than Annabel knew about, doing serious damage to her health? ‘I didn’t think you were getting up to much.’

‘Oh, I’m not. But I needed a few things. Women’s necessities, you know. It soon adds up.’ When Annabel still looked questioning, her mother’s expression began to crumple. ‘I’m sorry, Bel. I’m so grateful for everything you’re doing for me but I didn’t realise I had to keep receipts for what I spend. I’ll make sure I do so in future.’

Seeing her mother’s green eyes start to well up, Annabel decided to drop the subject. She wasn’t entirely happy doing so – a hundred pounds was a lot of money to fritter away, even in London – but with the mountain of admin they had to get through this morning, she needed her mother in a relatively switched-on mood.

‘Of course you don’t have to keep receipts. The money was yours, Mum, a gift. Don’t worry about it now. Go and get dressed while I put the kettle on.’

Once the rest of the shopping had been put away and the coffee prepared, Annabel grabbed a plate and arranged the selection of fresh pastries she’d picked up as a treat to help sweeten the unappetising task awaiting them. She carried the lot through to the small dining table set against one wall of her sitting room and retrieved the storage box containing the documentation of her mother’s financial straits – or the bits of it she’d been able to scrape together at least. Ellen’s record-keeping had always been haphazard at best.

Taking a seat and pouring herself a cup of coffee, she removed the lid of the box and pulled out a handful of papers. Scanning each one, she began sorting them into piles on the table in front of her.

After ten minutes she’d finished her second cup and worked her way through the entire box with still no sign of her mother. She called out.

‘Yes, darling,’ came the reply. ‘Just coming.’

After close to another ten minutes, Ellen finally appeared. Settling into the chair opposite Annabel she said ‘Oh, lovely,’ and helped herself to a pastry and coffee. Annabel resisted the urge to mention that the pot was now only lukewarm. These delays were costing them time and, with one eye on the clock, she didn’t want to waste even more of it on making one fresh.

‘Right, I’ve split everything into more manageable piles,’ she started instead, sliding a writing pad and pen across the table top towards her mother. ‘Let’s start by making a list of what’s to do in order of priority.’

Ellen’s nose scrunched up in dislike. ‘You can’t just work your way down from the top?’

‘Me?’ Annabel levelled a look across the table. ‘I’m not doing this, Mum. I’ll help, but this is your business. You have to do it.’

Her mother let out a forlorn sigh. ‘But it’s so tedious. You know I don’t usually bother with all the boring paper bits myself.’

Annabel’s own sigh was more impatient. ‘And look where that’s got you. It
is
tedious, I know, but it’s necessary. And you need to learn how to do it for yourself so you don’t get into this sort of mess again. I’ve already dealt with the most urgent matters for you, but there’s still a load to be sorted out – accounts to be closed, change of circumstance notifications to be sent out, creditors’ demands to be answered. Not the sort of things that can be put aside and ignored.’

‘Yes, I know you’re right, darling. It’s just that I’m so hopeless with numbers. I wish I was more like you.’ Ellen picked up the plate of pastries and offered it to Annabel, who took an almond croissant. ‘Such a clever girl. Much cleverer than I’ll ever be. And so beautiful too.’ Her mother peered at her across the table as she bit into the sugary, flaky croissant. ‘In fact, you seem to be positively glowing at the moment, Bel. Have you met a man recently?’

Annabel nearly choked on her mouthful as she snorted. Had she met a man recently? No, she’d met the devil incarnate. And any ‘glow’ was probably the still smouldering embers of the hellfire he’d been raining down on her.

‘You have!’ Ellen crowed with glee. ‘I can see it in your eyes!’

Really? Would they be the same eyes that were watering madly as a result of the crumbs she’d just breathed down her throat? Pouring some coffee into her cup, she gulped it down, grateful it had had time to cool.

‘Come on, darling, do tell.’ Now that her mother had the bit between her teeth, there’d be no stopping her. No matter that she was galloping off in completely the wrong direction in her usual blinkered fashion. Annabel knew only too well that as far as Ellen was concerned a man was the answer to everything.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she said, clearing her throat and wiping the tears from the outer corners of her lashes. ‘I’m not seeing anyone if that’s what you mean.’

‘But you’ve
met
someone,’ her mother persisted. ‘It’s obvious in the way you look, the way you’re carrying yourself.’

Oh, this was ridiculous. ‘Mother, I promise you, the only person I’ve met recently is … is some complete bastard who’s making my life a nightmare at work. Now can we start on the list, please?’

‘See. I knew I was right! What’s his name?’

‘What? What does that matter? Didn’t you hear me say he’s a nightmare?’

‘You like him,’ Ellen pronounced with a glint in her eye.

‘What?’ Annabel hated to repeat herself, but, really, what else was there to say? ‘How did you leap to that conclusion from “complete bastard”?’

Her mother brushed that aside with a little ‘Phssht’ sound. ‘You’ve always been prickly about boys, Bel. But I’m your mother, darling. I see right through you.’

What was with everyone at the moment, thinking they could see her innermost workings? Was she suddenly made of glass? And if she had always been prickly about the opposite sex, her mother had always been too damned blind to their faults. Having lived with the consequences of that blindness, Annabel wasn’t about to change her ways for anything. Reaching for the closest stack of papers, she pulled them towards her.

‘Is he handsome?’

She pretended not to hear the question, not to see in her mind’s eye the stunning flash of silver irises contrasted with black hair, a lopsided smile … ‘First off, you need to call these—’

‘Oh, he must be.’ Ellen clapped her hands together in delight. ‘You’re blushing!’

‘I am not blushing,’ Annabel insisted despite being able to feel the heat radiate from her cheeks. She pushed up the sleeves of her suddenly-too-warm wool sweater, cursing her fair colouring which made even the mildest flush stand out vividly. ‘I’m getting frustrated because we need to get this sorted. Now, see this—’

‘Is he tall?’

Annabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘He’s nothing important, Mother. Just an overbearing, ill-mannered barman. This, on the other hand –’ she waved a county court notice between them ‘– is something very important indeed.’

But her mother didn’t seem to think so, already losing her focus on the present. Her attention wandered over Annabel’s shoulder, gaze going to the photo sitting on top of the bookshelf. ‘Your father was lovely and tall,’ she mused, getting a faraway haze in her eye as she looked back into the distant past. ‘And you were always such a daddy’s girl; I think that’s something you’d definitely look for in a man.’

At the mention of her father, the usual ache set up in Annabel’s chest, a muted echo of the fingers of fear that had squeezed tight around her heart on the day she’d had the solid foundation of warmth and strength and safety torn from her young life.

How different would things be now if only …
No.
She cut the thought off. Pushed aside the past as she tugged her sleeves back down. What ifs were pointless. They didn’t help solve the problems of the here and now.

Looking at the trance-like expression on her mother’s face, she decided that the immediate here and now was going nowhere fast. As disappointing as it was not to have even made a start on the paperwork, at least the day wouldn’t be a complete waste – she still had the prospect of engineering Aidan Flynn’s imminent downfall to look forward to. And with her stress levels running at an all-time high due to the pressures she was under at both work and home, she really needed something to give soon.

She checked the time and pushed to her feet. ‘Listen, Mum. I have to get ready now. How about we try tackling this again tonight?’

‘Hmm?’ Her mother’s attention meandered back to the present. ‘Oh,’ she said, blinking. ‘I’m out tonight. Sorry, darling, did I forget to mention it?’

‘Yes.’ Annabel was surprised. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘To some book club thingy. I got in touch with an old friend and she invited me along. I thought it might be a good idea to start getting out and meeting some new people.’

‘That sounds great. Who’s the friend?’

‘Oh, no one you’d remember.’ Ellen inspected her nails.

‘Where’s the book club?’ Annabel cringed inside to hear herself. This must be what it was like being a parent – trying to satisfy those protective instincts without sounding interrogative and suspicious. And failing.

‘Not far, I don’t think. I’ve got her address written down somewhere. I’ll have to get a taxi as I don’t really know my way around yet.’ Ellen gave her a needy look. ‘If you could leave me that money we discussed?’

‘I can let you have twenty pounds. That’s all I’ve got on me.’ Trying to stretch her budget to cover the extra expense of supporting the two of them meant that cash was getting tight. Luckily, her own day-to-day expenses were minimised by her season travel pass.

‘Twenty’s fine, Bel,’ her mother said, although she didn’t quite manage to hide her look of disappointment. Annabel took comfort from the fact that after paying for taxi fares there wouldn’t be much left over to spend on booze.

‘No way in hell.’ Dressed immaculately in her usual crease-free perfection, it appeared that Annabel Frost’s only concession to ‘day off’ casualness was the substitution of her sharp black skirts for a pair of low-rise grey trousers draped with a hip-hugging chainlink belt, and the semi-letting down of her hair. Aidan noted that it was almost as long as it had been in his dream. Worn in a sleek ponytail instead of its usual tight bun, he could see the end flicking from one shoulder of her crisp white shirt to the other like the tail of an angry cat as she shook her head in denial. ‘Mr Landon
always
gives final approval on the Christmas Day menu dishes. Why would he send you? He barely even knows you.’

Quickly closing the door on the damp, blustery afternoon weather before a gust of wind had a chance to drive the sleet in to splatter against the polished floorboards, he made his way through the quiet of the closed restaurant to where Annabel stood by the only table laid up for dining, looking like she’d just swallowed an entire place setting. As well she might, considering it was only a matter of hours since she’d slapped the envelope containing his final written warning on the bar as she’d strutted past without a word or glance.

‘He didn’t get hold of you?’ Aidan’s stomach muscles tightened as her glittering green eyes now tracked his approach. He felt the force of that glare like a physical touch scoring across his skin. She was beyond gorgeous when she was furious, but knowing he still had worse news to break than the fact he was the boss’ ‘taster’ replacement, he bit back on the type of smile likely to incite violence. ‘He had something urgent come up.’

Annabel snatched her phone from where it lay on the white cloth to check the screen. ‘But that still doesn’t explain why
you’re
here. Why would he even think to contact you?’

Coming up on the opposite side of the table, Aidan shed his coat and draped it over the back of a spare chair before picking up the printed sheet of paper from the place setting in front of him and cast an eye over the list of tasting dishes to be served. ‘Let me find us something suitable to drink and then we’ll sit down and talk about it.’

‘I don’t want a drink,’ Annabel said as he turned and headed for the bar. ‘I want to know what the hell is going on.’

He knew she did. He also knew she wasn’t going to be happy once she found out the truth. It would change the dynamic between them and, although he’d known she’d have to find out some time, the more he thought about it, the less he liked his hand being forced so soon.

‘Did you hear me?’ she demanded, the stomp of her footsteps following after him.

‘I heard you,’ he replied, not stopping and not turning around as he felt the nerve endings in his fingertips react to the petulant bite of her tone.

‘Well? I want answers.’

And she deserved to have them. But bastard that he was, half of him was hoping that if he let her frustration simmer for a little longer she’d lash out at him. Because if she lashed out, he’d have no choice but to break his promise and touch her before things changed irrevocably between them. In the name of self-defence he’d have the excuse to grab her, hold her. Wrap his arms around her tight as the length of that lithe body struggled and thrashed against the length of his and she fought to scorch him with her temper, cut him with her curses, maybe even scratch him with those lethally manicured fingernails. And he was so ready for the contact that every fibre of his being was strung taut with wanting.

‘I think we’ll go with prosecco,’ he said, swinging around the end of the bar before he did something stupid like turn around and reach for her. Just because he was ready didn’t mean she was. ‘It’s the perfect aperitif – the bubbles wake up the taste buds, the acidity cleanses the palate. It’ll be dry and light enough to complement Chef’s starters, too.’ Not to mention it would loosen Annabel Frost up a bit. If she attempted to eat anything in her current state of choler, she’d end up with a world class bout of indigestion.