Page 5 of A Very Happy Easter

“That sounds like a good plan. You’ll be able to go five-star instead of backpacking.”

“Maybe three-star. But in truth, I still prefer backpacking. You get to experience a country better that way, warts and all.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of warts.” When I was small, I’d been blessed with a verruca, and that had been quite bad enough. “And unfortunately, I have a higher-than-average chance of being kidnapped, so I have to hire security when I travel to any risk areas. Kind of puts a damper on getting down with the locals.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it.” My phone buzzed, and I fumbled it out of my bag without thinking. It was a message from my mother, fussing about toasts.

“Hoping for another get-out call? Don’t worry, I can take the hint.” Heath pushed off the column and picked up the empty glass. “Perhaps I’ll see you at Halloween again?”

“No, no, no, that’s not it. Please, stay.” Wait, why was I asking him to stay? “Or do you need to get back to your date?”

“Date?”

“The brunette?”

“Loretta? She’s not my date; she’s a friend of Janie’s, and they rearranged the seating plan after her boyfriend dumped her the day before yesterday.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too. Over the main course, she asked Liam whether, in his professional medical opinion, it would be possible to remove a man’s balls with hairdressing scissors.”

“Yikes.” Curiosity got the better of me. “So, what was the answer?”

“A knife would be better than scissors, but therapy would be better than the knife.”

“Therapy is overrated.” At least, it had been in my experience. “Although I don’t suppose prison is much fun either, and some people do benefit from talking through their problems.” My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Salma telling me Mama would be organising a search party if I didn’t get my butt back in my seat. Heath was still watching me closely. “Sorry, I’m just waiting for a call from the office. I think a girl might be in trouble, and… Forgive me, I shouldn’t be talking about these things.”

“Why not? Everything’s confidential?”

“Because this is supposed to be a fun evening.”

Instead of walking away, Heath settled back onto the balustrade. I liked that he did that—left a gap between us, I mean. He didn’t even try to invade my space.

“If you want to talk, I’m here to listen.” He glanced towards the marquee. “I think I’m the only sober person at the party apart from you, and I’m feeling a bit out of place.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Not tonight. I have to drive back to London.”

“There were no hotel vacancies locally? My friend Matilda’s cousin runs a corporate training centre on the outskirts of Bristol, and they have plenty of rooms. Quite basic, but serviceable. Do you want me to make a call?”

“I appreciate the offer, but that’s not why I’m going home. My new roommate is moving in at eight a.m. tomorrow, and I need to be there.”

“They couldn’t have delayed by a day?”

“Apparently not.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry for that.”

Heath shrugged one shoulder. “Such is life. So, what’s this about a girl in trouble?”

“I’m CEO of a women’s charity.” For women, by women. I explained a little about Vocare, about our objectives and activities, and then I told him about Jazzi. “Instinct tells me something bad happened, but there’s not a damn thing I can do to help.”

“You still take calls yourself? As the CEO?”

“Not as many as I used to, but I never want to distance myself from the work we do.”

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