moved off to stand in a huddle at the other end. The woman hesitated.
‘I’m Georgia Stanley, the licensee. I’ll be opening at twelve. If you want a cuppa before then, just come round the other side and knock on the door.’
MacNee produced a grin. ‘Thanks. I might take you up on that.’
Georgia looked a little doubtful but MacNee was used by now to that reaction to his gap-toothed smile. He turned to Drummond.
‘Right. Let’s get on with it. Not far, is it?’
Elena Tindall left without acknowledging her husband’s secretary. She never did, if she could help it – impertinent old bag! She’d hinted to Eddie about getting rid of her but for once he’d been adamant: business was business and Marianne was the best you could get. Elena had backed off. She didn’t care that much, anyway.
Outside, she hailed a taxi. ‘Primark,’ she said.
The driver looked at her with some surprise. She looked more the Selfridges type, but he reckoned keeping his mouth shut was the way to a decent tip. The iceberg type seldom appreciated a bit of banter.
It paid off: she tipped him a fiver. He watched as she disappeared inside, shrugged, then drove on.
Half an hour later Elena came out carrying several large bags, hailed another cab and gave her home address.
When she got out of the lift into the elegant lobby on the penthouse level, she held her breath as she opened the front door. If Lola was polishing the hall floor …
She wasn’t. The parquet was gleaming, the huge, shaggy, white chrysanthemums in the Chinese vases were fresh that morning, the mirrored console table sparkled, but there was no sign of her housekeeper. She wasn’t in the master bedroom either, and Elena could get the bags through to her walk-in closet unnoticed. She touched a wardrobe door; it swung open and she tucked them out of sight.
It wasn’t that Lola spied on her, or anything. Lola was just very chatty and when Eddie came home he’d pump her for every detail of Elena’s departure. Oh, Elena knew he kept tabs on her, but it didn’t bother her. She didn’t have a lover; she’d had more than enough ofmen. She just needed breaks when Eddie’s obsessional devotion began to stifle her, and with nothing to hide she’d made it easy for him to check. Not this time.
‘Morning, Lola,’ she said, walking into the Philippe Starck kitchen where Lola was wiping the polished marble worktop. ‘Could I ask you to do something for me just now?’
Lola, a bright-faced Spanish woman in a neat pink overall with a navy butcher’s apron on top, turned immediately. ‘Yes, of course, Mrs Tindall.’
Elena found Lola very restful. She was suitably aware of having a good job and a generous employer, and she did what she was asked without discussion or fuss.
‘Could you please run round with this to the cleaners?’ Elena was holding one of Eddie’s suits. ‘I think he might want it tomorrow, so if you could get them to do the express service then pop it back in his closet …’
Lola agreed with alacrity, removing her apron and taking the suit from her employer. As she went, Elena called after her, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m going to be away for a little while. Look after Eddie for me, won’t you?’
‘Sure, madame! I get something good for his dinner tonight – you know how not happy he is when you go away.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks, Lola.’ A moment later she heard the front door shut and smiled again. Lola wouldn’t hurry back: a friend of hers had a coffee shop nearby, and Lola always enjoyed an excuse.
Elena returned to her bedroom. She glanced at the huge bed, with its Egyptian cotton sheets and soft down pillows, with a wry twist of her mouth. It wouldn’t be like that tonight.
What care I for a goose-feather bed
…
She did care a bit, actually. She gave a little shiver.
As she took the bags out of her closet and pulled out her purchases, she glanced at her watch; the agency would be open now.
She had no difficulty booking a
‘I’m Georgia Stanley, the licensee. I’ll be opening at twelve. If you want a cuppa before then, just come round the other side and knock on the door.’
MacNee produced a grin. ‘Thanks. I might take you up on that.’
Georgia looked a little doubtful but MacNee was used by now to that reaction to his gap-toothed smile. He turned to Drummond.
‘Right. Let’s get on with it. Not far, is it?’
Elena Tindall left without acknowledging her husband’s secretary. She never did, if she could help it – impertinent old bag! She’d hinted to Eddie about getting rid of her but for once he’d been adamant: business was business and Marianne was the best you could get. Elena had backed off. She didn’t care that much, anyway.
Outside, she hailed a taxi. ‘Primark,’ she said.
The driver looked at her with some surprise. She looked more the Selfridges type, but he reckoned keeping his mouth shut was the way to a decent tip. The iceberg type seldom appreciated a bit of banter.
It paid off: she tipped him a fiver. He watched as she disappeared inside, shrugged, then drove on.
Half an hour later Elena came out carrying several large bags, hailed another cab and gave her home address.
When she got out of the lift into the elegant lobby on the penthouse level, she held her breath as she opened the front door. If Lola was polishing the hall floor …
She wasn’t. The parquet was gleaming, the huge, shaggy, white chrysanthemums in the Chinese vases were fresh that morning, the mirrored console table sparkled, but there was no sign of her housekeeper. She wasn’t in the master bedroom either, and Elena could get the bags through to her walk-in closet unnoticed. She touched a wardrobe door; it swung open and she tucked them out of sight.
It wasn’t that Lola spied on her, or anything. Lola was just very chatty and when Eddie came home he’d pump her for every detail of Elena’s departure. Oh, Elena knew he kept tabs on her, but it didn’t bother her. She didn’t have a lover; she’d had more than enough ofmen. She just needed breaks when Eddie’s obsessional devotion began to stifle her, and with nothing to hide she’d made it easy for him to check. Not this time.
‘Morning, Lola,’ she said, walking into the Philippe Starck kitchen where Lola was wiping the polished marble worktop. ‘Could I ask you to do something for me just now?’
Lola, a bright-faced Spanish woman in a neat pink overall with a navy butcher’s apron on top, turned immediately. ‘Yes, of course, Mrs Tindall.’
Elena found Lola very restful. She was suitably aware of having a good job and a generous employer, and she did what she was asked without discussion or fuss.
‘Could you please run round with this to the cleaners?’ Elena was holding one of Eddie’s suits. ‘I think he might want it tomorrow, so if you could get them to do the express service then pop it back in his closet …’
Lola agreed with alacrity, removing her apron and taking the suit from her employer. As she went, Elena called after her, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m going to be away for a little while. Look after Eddie for me, won’t you?’
‘Sure, madame! I get something good for his dinner tonight – you know how not happy he is when you go away.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks, Lola.’ A moment later she heard the front door shut and smiled again. Lola wouldn’t hurry back: a friend of hers had a coffee shop nearby, and Lola always enjoyed an excuse.
Elena returned to her bedroom. She glanced at the huge bed, with its Egyptian cotton sheets and soft down pillows, with a wry twist of her mouth. It wouldn’t be like that tonight.
What care I for a goose-feather bed
…
She did care a bit, actually. She gave a little shiver.
As she took the bags out of her closet and pulled out her purchases, she glanced at her watch; the agency would be open now.
She had no difficulty booking a
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