Page 7 of Emergency Engagement

‘People are going to start wondering what’s going on,’ he had the nerve to say with a glimmer of a smile. ‘If memory serves me, it’s the sort of place where curtains have a habit of twitching, and the neighbours’ curtains are remarkably closeto yours...they’ve probably got their ears pressed to their front doors, even as I stand here trying to have a conversation.’

‘I’m not interested in a conversation.’

‘Let me in, Sammy. I may not have any intention of rearranging my entire project to accommodate you, but I’m willing to consider other options that could be of interest.’

‘What other options?’

‘Let me in and you’ll find out. Slam the door and I walk away, and you won’t hear from me again.’

‘You can come in, Rafael, but I’m warning you that, if you don’t have anything to say that I want to hear, then you won’t be hanging around for longer than five seconds.’

‘Consider it a deal. I’ve always been averse to making a nuisance of myself.’ He smiled as she unhooked the chain and pulled open the front door.

That smile knocked Sammy for six. It was something that hadn’t changed. It was the same smile that had had every girl in school round-eyed and mesmerised. It was a slow smile of utter self-assurance. She could see the boy he’d been very clearly.

She sighed and stood back, allowing him to sweep past her. She was only doing this because he’d held out a thread of hope when he told her that he had an idea... If not for that, naturally she would have sent him on his way, smile or no smile. She had zero interest in taking a trip down memory lane with the man.

‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘Graciously offered, I must say. What’s on offer?’

‘Tea or coffee. The coffee’s instant.’

‘I must say I’ve never had to work so hard for a drink before.’

‘You can go into the sitting room—’ she nodded to a door that was slightly ajar ‘—and I’ll bring you...?’

‘Tea...one sugar. That would be very nice.’

Rafael watched for a couple of seconds as she disappeared into the kitchen, kicking the door shut behind her.

Maybe she thought he might make a nuisance of himself by following her into the kitchen to talk when her mission was to get rid of him as fast as she could. No problem. As things stood, he was very happy to take his time looking round him. The unprepossessing façade outside hadn’t concealed anything surprising or wonderful. The place was certainly no Tardis; it was just as small on the inside as it promised on the outside. If he stood with his arms outstretched, he would be able brush his fingers against the walls. A small staircase led upstairs. He noted the neutral paint, the faded rug on the flagstone floor and the single utilitarian light illuminating the space.

He nudged open the door to the sitting room. This was obviously where the magic happened. The bookshelves groaned under the weight of cookery books. The pictures on the walls were cute, little surrealistic depictions of food; peering closer, he could see that some were hand-painted. The furniture was old but invitingly homely and the little oval table in the middle, along with a couple of other bits and pieces, was the genuine article—antique, polished so that the patina of the wood gleamed. The room was an intriguing mix of old and new.

He was studying one of the hand-painted pictures on the wall when he heard her enter the room and turned to look at her without moving.

‘Yours?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The paintings. Did you do them?’

‘You should be sitting and waiting for me, not nosing around.’

‘The temptation to inspect was too great. So, do you paint as well as cook?’

‘When I get the time,’ Sammy confirmed, nodding to a chair and pointedly placing his mug on the table next to it.

Rafael ignored her direction and took his time examining the cookery books. Some were huge; most looked very well worn.

He’d come to...what...assuage his guilt by offering her something to hang onto? Satisfy some never-before-suspected curiosity about the life he and his father had left behind all those years ago? Rafael didn’t know. His entire life had been devoted to ascent. Ascent to a place where he would be untouchable. He had built a fortress around himself and that was just how he liked it. Yet here he was, with a woman who felt free to say whatever she wanted, to hell with what he thought—and, yes, he was perversely enjoying the experience. He reckoned that there was clearly more to be said for novelty than he’d ever thought possible.

‘Are you going to sit or are you going to go through everything in the room with a fine-tooth comb?’

‘You haven’t changed. There was always a quiet determination about you, even when you were younger. Your face is the same as well. You haven’t aged at all. When you left my office—or maybe it would be more accurate of me to say when youstormed out ofmy office—I began casting my mind back to those two years my father and I spent in these parts and I was surprised at what I could recall after all these years.’

‘Really? How interesting...’

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