“She wanted to sell nice houses.” He heaved himself up onto the work surface. “She learned about the area by pretending to be moving here. Went to see twenty-seven flats with other agencies before going for the job. Found she could talk about the properties and the likely clientele with aplomb.” He laughed. “That’s what I call enterprise. And then . . . quite audaciously, made up a résumé. Or at least embellished it. Made herself sound like the ‘right kind of girl.’”
Laura smiled, although she was a little taken aback by Cherry’s behavior. Which was silly as she had nothing to do with her work and wasn’t her employer. She tapped Daniel’s knee with the back of her hand. “Come on, I thought you were taking me out.”
He jumped down and held out a crooked elbow. “It will be my pleasure.” He wanted to treat his mum, look after her, be the son that he knew she, somewhat embarrassingly, liked to show off. They’d sit in the brasserie and she’d bask in their mutual goodhumor, and he knew he’d enjoy himself too. He always made time for them to be together, especially ever since he’d been aware that the relationship between his parents had little warmth. There wasn’t even much in the way of companionship. His father was rarely around, as his job as partner at a large accounting firm kept him fully occupied; Daniel wanted to make up for some of the loneliness that he knew his mum felt. It had been a while since he’d seen her, which added to the guilt, the prickly discomfort of another secret. He hadn’t yet told her he was cutting their day short. He was seeing Cherry again tonight.
2
Two days earlier
MAY BE HAVING THE BEST OF EVERYTHING WHEN HE WAS A CHILDmeant that he never yearned for anything, at least nothing that money could buy. Daniel had been bought a superb education and was clever—a fortunate combination that meant he liked school and school liked him. He’d shown a particular aptitude for science, which had delighted his parents and professors, particularly when he’d been invited to study medicine at Cambridge. To complement his academic cultivation, he’d had the holidays that were considered necessary: He’d learned to ski, to dive, and to appraise the world. He’d done all of this with an enjoyment and interest that had reassured and pleased his parents; but despite being lavished with everything a boy could want, Daniel had somehow managed to remain unspoiled. His response to the Great Wall of China was one of genuine wonder, and he was grateful for the comfort of the first-class flight home. However, when he’d arrived at Heathrow, he’d jumped on the tube rather than call his father’s driver to come and pick him up. His laid-back attitude extended to clothes and he grew perversely attached to items that had long since passed their best. Once, he’d retrieved a pair of briefs from the trash that Mrs. Moore had thrown out on one of his trips home from university. He’d thenhidden them, holes and all, in the side pocket of his holdall. Those briefs were old friends and he would not be parted from them.
And so it was that he set foot in a real estate agency on one of the most expensive roads in London that represented some of the most exclusive properties, while he was dressed in a faded T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts with holes where the seams met at the pockets.
“I need a flat,” he said, smiling to the hesitant girl who politely approached him as he came in the door.
“To buy or rent?”
“Buy.” And he was directed to the back where a dark head was bent forward over a large, gleaming wooden desk, scrutinizing some papers.
“Can I help you?” When she looked up and smiled her client-welcoming smile, he felt himself respond in kind. Suddenly the job of flat hunting seemed a whole lot more pleasant. She had a cap of straight raven hair, which danced as it moved around her face.
“I’m looking for a flat.”
Her eyes were dark too, deep pools with fathomless depths. In them, he caught the mental calculations as she subtly took in his frayed shorts and T-shirt.
“How many bedrooms? Did you have a particular location in mind?”
“Two bedrooms,” he decided instantly, thinking the second would be useful as a study. He hadn’t had much time to think about what he needed as he’d driven back from Cambridge early that morning. Wandering around his parents’ house, he’d been aware of the likely pressure from his mother to stay if he became too comfortable. It was best to start the ball rolling straight away; it wouldn’t be fair to let her get her hopes up.
“And location?” Once again, he detected suspicion about what he was doing here. No streets around Kensington and Chelsea were cheap, but some were prohibitively expensive. He knew hedidn’t look the sort to have a couple of million to spend. Which in theory, he didn’t.
“Cherry Laine?”
Her face smiled tightly. Irritated, but trying to remain professional. “There’s no such street in the area.”
“God no, I wasn’t winding you up.” He pointed to her nameplate, black letters on brass background, and smiled. “You should be in an agency in a village in the Cotswolds or something.”
She stared at him long and hard, then turned her iPad to face him. “Depending on your price category, we have four properties that match what you’re looking for. This one is just two minutes from Knightsbridge station—”
“I’ll go and see it.”
She paused and tapped her screen. “Okay. This next one—”
“I’ll see that too.”
“But I haven’t even told you about it.”
He enjoyed watching her uncertainty about how to take him. No doubt, most people who came in here were stuffed with the importance of how a property should be, how it should rightfully fit their needs. They probably put great energy and effort into finding the perfect place, something that seemed to Daniel a colossal waste of time. The quicker he got it settled, the better. “And the others.”
“In a hurry?”
“I should imagine for the price, they’re all pretty nice? How much are they, anyway?”
“These particular properties range from between two and a half and four million—”
“Wow!”
“And, yes, they’re exceptional—”