a half-smile.
‘I’m asking now. It makes sense.’
She laughed. ‘You mean sex and home-cooked dinners all on tap within a one-mile radius of work. You’re such a caveman.’
He laughed.
‘You’d never make a home-cooked meal.’
‘You’re right there.’
There was a long pause.
‘So what’s your answer?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said finally.
He looked hurt.
‘You don’t . . . know?’ he asked.
Ruth pulled a face. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted from him earlier in the evening?
‘I can’t give you an answer because I don’t know what’s happening in my life right now,’ she said. ‘If I lose my job, there’s a good chance I’ll be leaving London.’
‘That might not be such a bad thing.’
It was her turn to look wounded, but he put out a hand to stroke her cheek.
‘I’ve always wanted a spell working Stateside,’ he said. ‘New York, Washington. It could be good for us both.’
‘It might not be that simple,’ said Ruth. ‘If they close down the London office, the only job I know of is in Shanghai, not Washington.’
He frowned.
‘I don’t want to go to Shanghai,’ he said, smoothing her hair back. ‘And I don’t want you to go to Shanghai.’
‘Neither do I.’
Her words surprised her. Five years ago, maybe even two, such an opportunity would have made the hairs on her neck stand up. But things had changed, she had changed. She was tired; she had no more desire to go racing off to China than she had to go to the moon. The truth was, her battle to impress Isaac wasn’t just about keeping a job – it was about keeping the job she had now. She looked into David’s handsome face. Was it time to settle down, put down some roots? And suddenly she knew: what she really wanted was to make a home, not just a base from which to work. It was as if she had floated right around the world, and like a feather falling to the ground, she had chosen to stop here. She pulled David closer, nuzzling into his chest.
‘Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else.’
7
There was a note leaning against the marble counter-top in the kitchen. Sophie put down her suitcase and picked it up.
Make yourself at home! The fridge is stocked – help yourself to anything you can find, and if you get bored, there’s a few things on the mantelpiece you might enjoy. Have fun! Lana xxx
A slow smile spread across Sophie’s face.
‘Bloody hell,’ she whispered. ‘This really is home.’
The Filipino housekeeper cleared her throat, standing by the front door.
‘Madam, is it okay if I now leave?’ she said, picking up her canvas tote.
‘Sorry, of course it’s fine,’ said Sophie, a little too enthusiastically.
‘I be on holiday now for a few days,’ she continued in her halting English. ‘But there is food in house, okay?’
‘No worries. No worries at all.’
She waited until she heard the front door close shut before she let loose an excited scream.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said to herself as she began to look around the house. ‘I just don’t believe it.’
Lana’s home was a palace. The drawing room was like something from a more genteel age, with hand-painted wallpaper, cream carpets, long mint-green drapes and an amazing mottled green and white marble fireplace that looked as if it had been carved from Stilton. There was a piano room, a dining room with a table that seated twenty, and a luxurious sunken living space, with sofas not much smaller than Sophie’s Battersea flat. The studio in the basement was better equipped than a hotel gym, and there was even a plunge pool down there. It wasn’t just a house that said money; it said taste or at least an expensive interior design job. Sophie couldn’t believe Lana wanted to change a thing.
She moved upstairs to explore the master bedroom with its emperor-size four-poster and views over the square. The guest rooms were equally impressive, effortlessly fitting modern furniture into the period features
‘I’m asking now. It makes sense.’
She laughed. ‘You mean sex and home-cooked dinners all on tap within a one-mile radius of work. You’re such a caveman.’
He laughed.
‘You’d never make a home-cooked meal.’
‘You’re right there.’
There was a long pause.
‘So what’s your answer?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said finally.
He looked hurt.
‘You don’t . . . know?’ he asked.
Ruth pulled a face. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted from him earlier in the evening?
‘I can’t give you an answer because I don’t know what’s happening in my life right now,’ she said. ‘If I lose my job, there’s a good chance I’ll be leaving London.’
‘That might not be such a bad thing.’
It was her turn to look wounded, but he put out a hand to stroke her cheek.
‘I’ve always wanted a spell working Stateside,’ he said. ‘New York, Washington. It could be good for us both.’
‘It might not be that simple,’ said Ruth. ‘If they close down the London office, the only job I know of is in Shanghai, not Washington.’
He frowned.
‘I don’t want to go to Shanghai,’ he said, smoothing her hair back. ‘And I don’t want you to go to Shanghai.’
‘Neither do I.’
Her words surprised her. Five years ago, maybe even two, such an opportunity would have made the hairs on her neck stand up. But things had changed, she had changed. She was tired; she had no more desire to go racing off to China than she had to go to the moon. The truth was, her battle to impress Isaac wasn’t just about keeping a job – it was about keeping the job she had now. She looked into David’s handsome face. Was it time to settle down, put down some roots? And suddenly she knew: what she really wanted was to make a home, not just a base from which to work. It was as if she had floated right around the world, and like a feather falling to the ground, she had chosen to stop here. She pulled David closer, nuzzling into his chest.
‘Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else.’
7
There was a note leaning against the marble counter-top in the kitchen. Sophie put down her suitcase and picked it up.
Make yourself at home! The fridge is stocked – help yourself to anything you can find, and if you get bored, there’s a few things on the mantelpiece you might enjoy. Have fun! Lana xxx
A slow smile spread across Sophie’s face.
‘Bloody hell,’ she whispered. ‘This really is home.’
The Filipino housekeeper cleared her throat, standing by the front door.
‘Madam, is it okay if I now leave?’ she said, picking up her canvas tote.
‘Sorry, of course it’s fine,’ said Sophie, a little too enthusiastically.
‘I be on holiday now for a few days,’ she continued in her halting English. ‘But there is food in house, okay?’
‘No worries. No worries at all.’
She waited until she heard the front door close shut before she let loose an excited scream.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said to herself as she began to look around the house. ‘I just don’t believe it.’
Lana’s home was a palace. The drawing room was like something from a more genteel age, with hand-painted wallpaper, cream carpets, long mint-green drapes and an amazing mottled green and white marble fireplace that looked as if it had been carved from Stilton. There was a piano room, a dining room with a table that seated twenty, and a luxurious sunken living space, with sofas not much smaller than Sophie’s Battersea flat. The studio in the basement was better equipped than a hotel gym, and there was even a plunge pool down there. It wasn’t just a house that said money; it said taste or at least an expensive interior design job. Sophie couldn’t believe Lana wanted to change a thing.
She moved upstairs to explore the master bedroom with its emperor-size four-poster and views over the square. The guest rooms were equally impressive, effortlessly fitting modern furniture into the period features
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