Page 33 of Gold Digger
“I can’t repay that money,” I said in a small voice. “But, Ollie, I promise it meant something to me.Youmeant something.”
He snorted. “Clearly,” he said in a dry tone. “I meant so much that you were willing to be bought off for a measly fifty grand. I feel so bloody special.”
And there it was: the difference between us. Ameaslyfifty grand? I’d been living in cloud cuckoo land if I thought the Duke of Buckingham and I stood a chance. We didn’t inhabit the same planet, or even the same universe. I swallowed down the tightness in my throat and forced my feet to move down the steps away from Ollie. On the way down I had a small kernel of hope that he’d run after me. That he’d sweep me up in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay. But when I reached the pavement I flinched at the sound of the front door of Buckingham House slamming shut.
From then on,the only other time I saw Ollie was at the club where I still waitressed. The look he gave me was so full of hatred that I hadn’t been brave enough to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds, and when I checked back to the same spot, he was gone, and I hadn’t seen him in there since.
At first, I’d had visions of him missing me and then turning up at my flat and calling up to me from the pavement,Romeo and Julietstyle (I was quite sure that if his mother could track me down, then Ollie would have had no trouble in obtaining my address). But that never happened, which I told myself was for the best.
But not long after Margot’s visit another Hardingdidtrack me down. Vicky showed up at my flat about a week later.
“This is very small,” was the first thing she’d said on entering it, and despite my depressed mood, it had startled a laugh out of me. When Hayley popped her head out of her room, Vicky waved, saying, “You don’t have to greet me if you don’t want to. I know how annoying it is when people expect you to speak when you’d rather not. I didn’t used to speak much either.”
Hayley had been shocked for a moment, then surprised me by smiling and offering Vicky a biscuit.
When Vicky told her, “I don’t eat refined sugar,” Hayley handed her an apple instead, which Vicky accepted. There was this unspoken acceptance between them, as if they could each sense that the other just did things a little differently, and that was okay.
“Why are you here, Vicky?” I’d asked as she munched on her apple after Hayley had gone to her room, sitting where her mother had sat a week before.
“I read your file.”
“The one that Margot compiled on me?”
“Yes,” she said, totally unrepentant. “You have a criminal record.”
I froze and stared at her. “Can you keep your voice down?” I hissed.
“It will be hard for you to gain other employment which pays as well as the cleaning job for my half-brother.”
“So, you know what happened with Margot?”
Vicky nodded, then tilted her head to the side. Now, Vicky was harder to read than other people. There were few subtle signs to give her away. But I could sense she wanted something from me. Very badly.
“You have abilities,” she said, and I blinked.
“W-what?”
“You can notice nonverbal cues. As a child, you were described as watchful. One report says that you survived living with your mother due to your ability to read people. You’re now doing a psychology course, I presume in order to capitalise on these abilities as these are where your strengths lie.”
I stood up from the sofa quickly and paced away from Vicky. “Let me get this straight. Margot accessed mypersonal,confidentialfiles from when I was known to social services as a child?”
Vicky nodded. “School reports too:Lottie has the uncanny ability to sense exactly what people need in a conversation. She can adapt to any circumstance. She has such strong emotional intelligence, it’s almost as though she can read people’s minds.”
My mouth fell open. “How many times have you read my school reports?”
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Of course you do.” I sighed. “Much as I’d love to sue you and Margot for invading my privacy, to be honest, I don’t have the time, the energy or the money. So, if we could just move this along? Tell me why you’re here. You want something from me.”
“You can read people. I cannot,” Vicky stated bluntly, which seemed to be the only way she stated anything. “I have autism. But you would know that already. You would have sensed it.”
I nodded.
“I don’t tell anyone that and it’s only recently been diagnosed formally. I would prefer that you didn’t share this information with anyone.”
“Of course,” I said.
“My half-brother has tried to protect me since I was dropped off at his family home at the age of six, but he has done enough now. I don’t want to work for the Buckingham Estate when I’m not a proper member of the Harding family.”
