A Proper Charlie (25 page)

‘
Oh no!’ Charlie said, looking horrified. ‘This
is
Sir Donald we’re talking about, isn’t it? He’s scary, or so I’ve heard.’

Ben nodded, with a faint smile on his lips. ‘The tyrant, yep, you’ve heard of his reputation? He was furious!’ Ben cringed at the memory.

‘
How old were you?’

‘
Old enough to know better really, I was nineteen,’ he said, and as the sharp memory resurfaced he tried to stifle a shudder. Donald Middleton’s arctic tongue had reduced the teenage Ben to a stuttering wreck. His father had taunted and sneered at him for weeks after the mistake. ‘I can still taste his fury!’ he said at last, hoping he hadn’t revealed too much of his pain on his face.

Whether Charlie had noticed or not, she didn’t say. She pushed her plate away and sat twirling her red hair around her little finger. ‘Well, that makes my stationery mistake rather tame,’ she said with a grin. ‘Is there anything else you should reveal to me, I wonder?’ She flushed as if realising how intimate her words sounded, then Ben found himself flushing too.

There was a short silence until Charlie said, ‘Sorry to hear about your mother.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, maybe you didn’t want to be reminded. Not that you can ever forget, of course. She died two months ago, didn’t she? I read about it in the paper. Must’ve been hard with the merger and all. But I bet she’ll be proud of you!
Core’s
getting glowing reviews.’ She came to a breathless halt.

Instead of feeling a painful jolt in his heart at the mention of his mother, his lips twitched. Without thinking, he moved to cover her hand with his.

‘
I can talk about her, and yes it was hard while
Globe
and
Core
were coming together but I think all the hard work is over now.’ Her hand felt soft and incredibly small beneath his, and he took his away reluctantly.

Charlie picked up her fork, then put it down again. Her plate was empty, and nerves were making her want to do something with her hands. So much for him trying to reassure her!

Ben looked down at his plate; it was only half-empty. Charlie must have been very hungry, either that or she was a fast eater! ‘Would you like dessert?’ he asked, wondering if it was the former, he should offer her more food.

‘
Oh, no thank you.’ She glanced at her plate, and then at his, as if realising why he would ask. She flushed slightly. ‘I really need to go shopping and stock my fridge on essentials. It’s the second time I’ve left for work without breakfast,’ she ended on a light laugh, and Ben suspected that she had been starving. He frowned. As far as he was aware,
Core
’s pay was very generous.

‘
That was the best beans on toast I’ve had in a long time,’ she declared suddenly.

‘
Me too,’ Ben lay down his knife and fork, and picked up his coffee and finished the last dregs. ‘But maybe the company had something to do with it.’

As a stain highlighted Charlie’s face again, Ben realised how his words could have been interpreted. He hadn’t meant to flirt but somehow with her, it came naturally. ‘I’ve enjoyed this morning,’ Ben continued. He stood up, and grabbed his jacket from over the back of the chair. ‘I thought it’d take us all day to shift that lot. You’ve worked hard, and certainly deserved the beans on toast.’ He grinned easily at her. ‘You’re good company Charlie, and the only distractions you have on the company are good ones, so pay no heed to er, Fanny.’

It had been a hasty exit, but Ben felt if he didn’t leave at that moment he would probably find an excuse to stay with her all afternoon. The canteen was almost full, and already they’d been receiving curious glances. Ben felt he had been the centre of enough talk lately, and to have gossip about his possible dalliance with office staff was something he could do without – no matter how attractive he found them.

It took a lot of will power for Ben not to turn back at the canteen doors and give Charlie one last farewell glance. It was crazy to feel like this about a woman he barely knew. The tune
Spirit of Man
from
War of the Worlds
stopped Ben just outside. Ben looked at the number before answering. It was Kevin Locke.

‘
Kevin,’ he said as he walked. He climbed the stairs and stopped outside the double doors to the large open plan office and peered inside through the window. Most were still at lunch, but others still dotted the office, either on the phone, or busy at their desk.

‘
Exciting news,’ Kevin Locke said.

Ben’s head snapped away from the window. ‘Go on.’

‘
She stayed only two nights with Sally Readman, and left for Vincent Road thereafter. She’s been there ever since!’

‘
Vincent Road? You say it as if I’m supposed to know the area.’

The PI sighed. ‘Westminster. The city of Westminster! She hadn’t left London as we feared, nor has she been tramping the streets.’

Ben leaned heavily against a wall, disturbing a painting that could be hung any way and still look the same. ‘Thank God.’ He closed his eyes, and allowed himself a few moments to calm the adrenaline sweeping his veins.

‘
I don’t have the house name or number yet, but it’s only a matter of time,’ Locke said with self-importance threading his voice. Ben wondered if he was related to John Fanton. ‘I told you to leave it to the experts, didn’t I?’

‘
You did. And I can’t thank you enough for finding her,’ Ben said through gritted teeth.

‘
I haven’t yet. We’ve still got to find the house she’s staying at. Do you realise how long that road is? It goes on for miles.’

‘
I know, but thank you regardless.’ He clicked off and Ben pushed through the double doors towards his borrowed office.

His sister was safe, and well out of harm’s way. He felt an inner peace, which he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he knew it wasn’t only to do with knowing his sister was safe. Ms Charlie Wallis made the sun shine even when he had felt his life was crumbling beneath him.

Ben felt her presence, and turned to watch her from Fanny’s office window as she walked towards her desk. He knew she had come in by the way the small hairs on his arms all quivered to attention. Her love of life was dynamic – heady; her almost dazzling green eyes and mop of red hair. She was like sunshine. Dazzling, intense and wonderful to be around.

Ben felt giddy. He was in love!

His spirits plunged even before the revelation came to him. Why would a beautiful, popular woman like Charlie want to be seen with a man whose idea of fashionable dress is a trip to a 1940s museum? He must be mad to even think he had a chance with her. She was a party girl… wasn’t that called a ladette these days?

Ben opened his brief case and pulled out the A-Z of London from his briefcase and tried to dislodge Charlie from his mind. He’d concentrate on finding Camilla instead. He traced Westminster with his finger, and located Vincent Road. Locke hadn’t been exaggerating, the road went on and on.

He tried to think of people he knew in Westminster. The Queen didn’t count, although he had met her when his father collected his OBE for his charity work. The Nicoles of this world would have been impressed, but the Charlies wouldn’t. Now, if he could say he’d met David Beckham or some popstar… there he went again, thinking of Charlie.

Suddenly, in his mind’s eye he saw a green-eyed woman glaring at him from the back of his car. His eyes widened, and his head flew to the office window that overlooked the staff floor – and Charlie. She was on the telephone, leaning back in her chair and laughing at something the caller had to say.

Charlie!
It had been Charlie in the back of his car. Heavy makeup must have covered her freckles and her red curly hair had been covered with a hat, but nobody could forget those large green eyes.

He turned from the window, his hands clutching the top of his head. Was Charlie a prostitute?

The girl in the back of his car had black hair, but maybe the dark had made it appear black instead of red? He thought back to Tarty –
dark
afro hair. But she had long legs and ... Ben swallowed ... Charlie in the Union Jack dress had long legs.

How could he have not have recognised her? The hair must have been a wig or something. God, he was stupid!

Didn’t
Core
pay enough? Christ… what if she became a victim – not worth thinking about. He brushed the thought away quickly, then turned to look back at her, but Melvin Giles caught his eye and waved as if they were long-lost buddies. Ben began to raise his hand before he realised what he was doing, and jammed both hands in his pockets. He couldn’t make out what was written on Giles’s T-shirt from where he stood, and frankly, he didn’t want to know. He was just grateful the public never got up to this floor.

God, had Charlie recognised him as the driver of the car? She didn’t appear to, but… Christ, what was she up to?

THIRTY FOUR

C
harlie wasn’t sure how she managed to get through the rest of the day. She had practised her plan in her mind, and was becoming almost delirious with excitement as it began to take shape: an elaborate honey-trap. She was going to be the honey for the Gentleman Abductor.

It was Pete’s birthday and Charlie and the entire third floor were invited out for a few drinks after work. Charlie barely knew Pete, he was a shy, middle-aged, married man of four, and usually liked to keep himself to himself, but this occasion, his fiftieth, wasn’t going to go uncelebrated, not by his colleagues anyway.

Charlie tried to wriggle out of it, but Melvin warned her that Pete would feel hurt if she didn’t turn up. And so she had to pretend she was her usual happy-go-lucky self when she knew that later she’d be using herself as bait for the abductor.

She entered the
Pig in Muck
pub with Melvin, grumbling that she had a pile of ironing to catch up on.

‘
You never iron,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t look as if you do anyway.’

She aimed a light-hearted punch at his arm, but then stopped dead.

Ahead of her, a tall broad-shouldered man stood at the bar, his back towards her. It was Ben Middleton, and her heart skipped a beat. He was ordering a round of drinks, and as Charlie neared her eyes drank him in. She focused dreamily on his hair: black and straight, apart from where it
curled around his ears.

There was that horrible moment of being inside the red Audi all over again. That taste of fear, her panic and the escalating terror that she might not escape the car alive.

She stared at the back of his head and imagined him wearing the beanie hat. Her eyes travelled to the broad shoulders and then the hands as they reached for the drinks the barman handed him, then back up to the hair again.

She tried to remember if his hair had been like that in the canteen, or even in the park, or at any other time come to that.

Ben turned around, and on seeing her, his face broke into a spontaneous smile that did strange things to the lining of her stomach and the muscles in her legs. ‘Just in time,’ he said. ‘What are you having?’

She stared at him stupidly. Her body was reacting to him, yet her mind was turning circles.

‘
I’ll have a gin and tonic,’ Melvin said, and he linked his arm through Charlie’s as if to enlighten Ben that Charlie was taken. ‘Charl’s a Malibu girl.’

‘
With Coke, lemonade...?’ Ben looked at her, as she stood struck dumb.

Melvin nudged her, but said, ‘Coke. She’ll have Coke and Malibu.’

‘
I, er, I need the loo,’ she muttered, and scurried off. Inside a cubicle she sat down to do her business. It had been two weeks since Ben had been taken in for questioning and released without charges, but even when gossip had circulated and was at its strongest she had protested his innocence. Had she been wrong?

Above the toilet cistern was the tissue dispenser and Charlie twisted around to lift a hand to pull the tissue down. It was a new roll, and cursing she spun the reel to seek the end. She found it and pulled. A tiny piece of tissue came away between finger and thumb, she cursed again.

Ben couldn’t be the abductor, she thought. She couldn’t be so completely wrong about a person. And especially Ben. He was too… too… God damn it...! she spun the roll of paper trying to find the end; and finding it, she grabbed it and pulled sharply and the reel released reams of toilet paper down on her head.

Charlie sat on the toilet, knickers around her knees, covered with white tissue. She stared miserably at the grey door with its graffiti covering. Ben wasn’t a criminal, she insisted to herself. She fancied him! There, she had admitted it. He was geeky and dressed in suits from a past era, but there was something about him ... something that compressed her heart whenever she thought about him.