Read Online The Queen of New Beginnings by Erica James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erica James
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indignantly.
“True, but Alice Shoemaker sounds like it was snatched from the ether fifteen seconds ago.”
She rooted in her bag, pulled out a wallet, opened it and crossed the room to him. “See, there’s my driving licence. It clearly states my name.”
It did. And her address. “You’re local? You’re not from London?”
“I’m as local as it’s possible to be. In fact—” She broke off.
“In fact what?”
“I was born in this very house. Upstairs in my parents’ bedroom. I arrived two weeks early in the middle of the night and there wasn’t time to get my mother to the hospital. I grew up here.”
Clayton raked a hand through his hair. It was all becoming too much for him. “Have I got this right? Your name is Alice Shoemaker, you used to live here and you’re an actress. So why then, are you keeping house for me? Are times that hard that you clean while you’re ‘resting’?”
“Sorry to correct you, but as I said earlier, it’s voice-over work that I do, not acting per se. And not that it’s any of your business, but times are far from hard for me; I’m doing this job as a favour for my neighbour who runs the cleaning agency.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Prove what? That I’m not strapped for cash?”
“That it’s voice-over work you do and you’re not a journalist.”
“You really are paranoid, aren’t you?” Once more she rooted around inside her bag, pulled out her wallet again. “There,” she said, “my equity card. Satisfied now? Or would you like to speak to Ronnetta who runs the cleaning agency? She’ll corroborate everything I’ve told you. Well, except the bit about me having grown up here. She doesn’t know that.”
“And the reason why not?”
“It’s complicated and nothing to do with you,” she said.
“Excuse me, but I think it’s got everything to do with me. You’ve been working here under false pretences.”
She stuck out her chin. “So shoot me!”
“Please don’t tempt me!”
Shoulders squared, they glared at each other, the atmosphere between them suddenly scorched with hostility.
Then Clayton lost it. For no real reason he could think of, he began to laugh. He laughed and laughed. He laughed so much his sides and jaw ached and he had to collapse onto the sofa.
• • •
Unnerved, Alice didn’t know what to make of this strange man now sprawled on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked when his manic laughter finally subsided. All right? What was she saying? The man was deranged! He was probably a raging psycho! She had to be a few screws loose herself still to be in the same room as him. Especially as she’d just invited him to shoot her.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.
Dear God, was he crying? “Look,” Alice said, inching away from him and towards the door and safety. “I’d better be going.”
“No!” he said, snapping forward.
She stepped further away from him. “I’ve caused enough trouble here for you. I’ll get my things and go.”
“No,” he said, “don’t go.”
Now he really was creeping her out. “You were very clear about wanting me go to a short while ago.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” He sat up, wiped his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said, hauling himself to his feet. “I lost it there for a moment. I’ve…I’ve been under a lot of stress recently. I think I need a drink. Have one with me.”
• • •
This was insane! How had she got herself into a situation whereby she was being held hostage by a mad man insisting that she have coffee with him? She had to be glad that it hadn’t been an alcoholic drink he’d had in mind; at least she was spared the prospect of having to fend off a drunken mad man.
As she sat apprehensively at the kitchen table, Alice waited for him to finish fossicking around with the coffee machine. It was one of those complicated-looking machines with buttons and levers that made cappuccino and
“True, but Alice Shoemaker sounds like it was snatched from the ether fifteen seconds ago.”
She rooted in her bag, pulled out a wallet, opened it and crossed the room to him. “See, there’s my driving licence. It clearly states my name.”
It did. And her address. “You’re local? You’re not from London?”
“I’m as local as it’s possible to be. In fact—” She broke off.
“In fact what?”
“I was born in this very house. Upstairs in my parents’ bedroom. I arrived two weeks early in the middle of the night and there wasn’t time to get my mother to the hospital. I grew up here.”
Clayton raked a hand through his hair. It was all becoming too much for him. “Have I got this right? Your name is Alice Shoemaker, you used to live here and you’re an actress. So why then, are you keeping house for me? Are times that hard that you clean while you’re ‘resting’?”
“Sorry to correct you, but as I said earlier, it’s voice-over work that I do, not acting per se. And not that it’s any of your business, but times are far from hard for me; I’m doing this job as a favour for my neighbour who runs the cleaning agency.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Prove what? That I’m not strapped for cash?”
“That it’s voice-over work you do and you’re not a journalist.”
“You really are paranoid, aren’t you?” Once more she rooted around inside her bag, pulled out her wallet again. “There,” she said, “my equity card. Satisfied now? Or would you like to speak to Ronnetta who runs the cleaning agency? She’ll corroborate everything I’ve told you. Well, except the bit about me having grown up here. She doesn’t know that.”
“And the reason why not?”
“It’s complicated and nothing to do with you,” she said.
“Excuse me, but I think it’s got everything to do with me. You’ve been working here under false pretences.”
She stuck out her chin. “So shoot me!”
“Please don’t tempt me!”
Shoulders squared, they glared at each other, the atmosphere between them suddenly scorched with hostility.
Then Clayton lost it. For no real reason he could think of, he began to laugh. He laughed and laughed. He laughed so much his sides and jaw ached and he had to collapse onto the sofa.
• • •
Unnerved, Alice didn’t know what to make of this strange man now sprawled on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked when his manic laughter finally subsided. All right? What was she saying? The man was deranged! He was probably a raging psycho! She had to be a few screws loose herself still to be in the same room as him. Especially as she’d just invited him to shoot her.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.
Dear God, was he crying? “Look,” Alice said, inching away from him and towards the door and safety. “I’d better be going.”
“No!” he said, snapping forward.
She stepped further away from him. “I’ve caused enough trouble here for you. I’ll get my things and go.”
“No,” he said, “don’t go.”
Now he really was creeping her out. “You were very clear about wanting me go to a short while ago.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” He sat up, wiped his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said, hauling himself to his feet. “I lost it there for a moment. I’ve…I’ve been under a lot of stress recently. I think I need a drink. Have one with me.”
• • •
This was insane! How had she got herself into a situation whereby she was being held hostage by a mad man insisting that she have coffee with him? She had to be glad that it hadn’t been an alcoholic drink he’d had in mind; at least she was spared the prospect of having to fend off a drunken mad man.
As she sat apprehensively at the kitchen table, Alice waited for him to finish fossicking around with the coffee machine. It was one of those complicated-looking machines with buttons and levers that made cappuccino and
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