“Well, thisismy house and Henryismy brother so . . .” He looked between Mark and me, took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand down his face. This close up, I could see the weary expression on his face. Did he always look this tired? “Henry agreed to move in after he saw you at the clinic. We’d been badgering him to for a while and . . .” he cleared his throat. “Right, well, can you start, Dr Murphy? I wanted to be here for your first session with Henry but, as you can appreciate, I have other commitments.” Despite his attire, Barclay’s manner was still set to stiff, posh and formal. “If we could get on, I’d really appreciate it. And I know this is an unconventional arrangement, but I was going to ask about confidentiality and if–”
“I’m not here as a doctor and Mark is not here as a nurse,” I pointed out.
“But–”
“We’re here as concerned friends. But we’re verytrustworthyfriends. Confidentiality won’t be a problem.”
“About that, I’d really rather formalise the–”
“No.” Okay, so the man intimidated me – he was bloody gorgeous and had just about the most commanding presence of anyone I’d ever met in my life – but I was not going to agree to being paid. I didn’t do private work and I wasn’t about to start now.
He gave me an unhappy look but stepped back and swept his arm out to encourage us through the doorway.
With some effort, I forced my mind away from the potential Barclay Lucas arse view and managed to walk into the house like a normal person.He’s just a bog standard human,I told myself.So what if he is so handsome it’s almost unreal? So what if he wants to sort out the environment and may even have the actual power to do it? He puts his trousers on one leg at a time same as everyone else.
“This way,” Barclay said after he’d shut the door and started walking down the hallway. My eyes flew wide again and I gripped Mark’s arm, hard.
“I told you so,” I mouthed to him, pointing at Barclay’s arse and then putting a hand over my heart, closing my eyes and faking a swoon.
“Are you quite alright, Dr Murphy?” My eyes snapped open at Barclay’s cut-glass accent echoing through the large corridor. We’d reached another door and he’d turned back to face us again, frowning at me, probably because my finger was now pointed at his crotch, with my other hand over my heart and a dreamy expression on my face. Perfect.
“She’s fine,” Mark replied for me after an uncomfortable silence, during which he had had to reach up and force me to lower my pointing arm. “Just a small stroke. She’ll reboot in a moment.”
Barclay sighed and rubbed between his eyes again. “Listen, Dr Murphy, do you need any special equipment? Medical supplies? Anything like that?” He pushed open the door in front of him and led us into a large, ultra-modern kitchen that opened onto a dining area. Beyond were some sofas in front of a glass wall that must lead out to the garden, although it was too dark to see out there at that time.
“Hey Henry,” I called, smiling as I walked over to the solid oak kitchen table where he was sitting.
“He managed to drag you out here then,” Henry muttered, giving us all an irritated look. “God forbid anyone actually contemplates leaving me the fuck alone for once.”
“Yes, well excuse me for giving a toss about my only brother,” Barclay snapped as he walked to the kitchen island and leaned against it. “Excuse me for not being willing to ‘leave you the fuck alone’ when I’ve been watching you try to die slowly for the last six months.” The outburst was so wrought with emotion and lacking in control, that I would never have believed cool, emotionless politician Barclay was capable of it had I not witnessed it for myself.
“Chill out. Christ,” Henry said, scowling down at the table. “I’m fine now.”
“You’re not fine. But you’re bloody well going to be. Even if I have to drag in every weir–” He stopped himself and flicked me a brief glance. I shrugged.
“It’s ok. Iama bit weird.”
“Abit?” Mark hooted. I shot him a narrow look and he shrugged too.
“I’m sorry,” Barclay said, trying to force a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure and I–”
“It’s fine,” I cut in, waving my hand as if to brush it off.
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you need any special equipment? Stuff I can buy in? I can have it delivered – tonight, if necessary.”
My eyebrows went up and I paused before a small smile crept onto my face. “Yes, yes, I do need some special stuff, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, right.” He was all business now, and obviously more comfortable at having been given a job to do. He reached across the island to his laptop and flicked it open before hovering over the keys. “Go on.”
“We-e-ll,” I drew out the word and looked up at the ceiling. “I need a circular, ceramic liquid receptacle with a round handle.” Barclay started typing. “Inside it, I require a combination of boiling water, driedCamellia sinensis and emulsion of proteins, fats, vitamins, minerals and lactose. One sugar.” Barclay froze, before very slowly raising his gaze from his MacBook.
“You’re asking for a cup of tea, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I cried dramatically. The shock of meeting the subject of all my fantasies and moral idol may have inhibited me for a while, but I could feel my normal equilibrium returning, and along with it my personality. “I’m parched. We haven’t had a cup of tea in, oh . . .” I glanced at my watch, “. . . at least forty-five minutes. The tube was murder.”
“Make mine a milky one, Barcos,” Mark added, as he moved to the counter and started stroking one of the kitchen appliances. I didn’t think Barclay was a shorten-his-name-within-five-minutes-of meeting-him kind of guy, or someone who wanted his kitchen caressed by an outspoken gay man, but, to his credit, he didn’t say anything. “By the way,” Mark rattled on, oblivious, “Iloveyour Thermomix. Worth the money?”
Barclay ignored Mark and moved to the kettle. I thought I heard a muffled snort from Henry, but when I glanced over he was still scowling down at the table.
