Page 12 of Meeting the Billionaire Boss

‘Thank you, Edward.’ Cynthia says then she steps forwards and wraps her arms around him.

Not wanting to interrupt this moment, I walk quietly to the doorway, already thinking of the list of things I need to get done today. Keeping busy and being productive will help pass the time until Joe comes home from school, and I want to prove that while I’m not Cynthia, I can be helpful and useful. Who knows, if I impress Edward and Cynthia enough, even after the contract ends, there could be more work available for me.

Edward and Joe pass me and descend the steps to the car that Jeff has brought round to the front. Jeff opens the back door and helps Joe to get onto the booster seat then fastens the belt around him while Edward gets in beside him. Cynthia has followed them, and she hands Joe his small rucksack and his sun hat and hugs him one final time.

As Jeff drives away, I am holding it together until Cynthia turns and climbs the steps and I see the tears in her eyes. She presses a hand to her mouth as she tries to stop herself from breaking down but when our eyes meet, it’s too much. I hold my arms out to her and we hug, our breath coming in shattered gasps as we try to regain our composure.

* * *

I’m finding it hard to accept that there are some things I can do and some that I can’t. Not that I physically can’t do them but there are people employed here to do them. Cooking meals and cleaning are off the menu. The same with washing and ironing. There are staff employed to do those things and I find it so strange. I’m used to sorting my own washing and stuffing my own dirty clothing into the machine with a non-bio detergent and fragrant (if cheap) fabric softener. But here, I’ve been told to leave my washing in the basket in my bathroom and that someone else will take care of it.

And so, my first day without Cynthia or Joe around has been a strange one. Desperate to appear useful, I’ve tidied Joe’s room, put his clothes in his washing basket and also made his bed. While I was in his room, I could hear a deep voice in the adjacent room. After he returned from dropping Joe at school, Edward told me he’d be working from home for the morning. He was speaking to someone on the phone in his room and I couldn’t make out what he was saying (not that I was trying to because I’m not a snoop) but from his tone, I gathered that it was most likely a business call. That’s something I have noticed about my boss. He’s always busy. If he’s not playing with Joe, he’s exercising or entertaining his friends or working. Mostly working. The light in his study is on late into the night and when I’ve opened my bedroom curtains a few times in the mornings, I’ve seen him returning from a run or a bike ride. He’s an energetic person and never seems to stop. Cynthia hasn’t told me anything deeply personal about him but she did say that he's had a difficult few years, and is only now emerging from the grief of his loss. I can understand how keeping busy helps him to deal with things. I’ve always been the same. Being busy helps me to avoid thinking about my father and how angry I feel about his behaviour.

When four o’clock comes, I find that I can’t wait to see Joe. I want to hear all about his day and to help him with his homework before settling him for the evening. After Edward left for London this afternoon, and Cynthia went off on her trip, it was just me, the silent cleaning staff and Polly, but she was busy in the kitchen. I didn’t like to disturb Polly so I found myself wandering the house searching for something to do. It’s a lot harder keeping busy than you’d think so I decide to speak to Edward and ask him what he’d like me to do in the hours when Joe is at school. At least then I can’t get into trouble for not pulling my weight.

When I hear tyres on the gravel driveway, I run to the door and throw it open. For now, my charge is home and I am ready to give him my undivided attention. Everything else can wait.

Chapter13

Ava

The last week of September has arrived, and the landscape is changing. The shades of green are giving way to yellow, red, orange and brown, and the weather has cooled. The orchard is abundant with ripe fruit, and I wander down there every day to pick some for Joe’s lunchbox and to eat or use in baking. Polly has told me that I can use the kitchen whenever I like and so I have, which has been a relief as it offers one way to use my time. When I did broach the subject of what Edward would like me to do during the school day, he waved a hand and told me to use my time wisely, which didn’t help, so I decided to use my initiative. Joe likes my apple muffins, and the apple and blackberry crumble I made him at the weekend and I have lots more recipes I’d like to try.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here for five weeks now but I do feel that I’ve settled in, and my surroundings no longer feel strange. Edward has also given me a car to use while I’m here and it’s so beautiful that it’s taken me a while to get used to having access to it. I passed my driving test at eighteen but purchasing a car seemed beyond my wildest dreams and I’ve been reliant upon buses and trains all my life. But now, I have the use of a brand-new metallic blue Audi Q4 e-tron. More than once, I’ve found myself sitting in the car, admiring the sleek interior, the amazing sound system and the sheer size of it. If anyone had told me a year ago that this was where I’d be, I’d have laughed them out of the room.

During my time here, I’ve taken a wander around the house to admire the portraits of Edward’s ancestors that hang on the walls. Polly said that Edward inherited them from his grandpa. They clearly date back hundreds of years and while I don’t know who the people are, I make up stories about them. There’s one overlooking the hallway of a man wearing what I think is a regency suit with a black cutaway coat, tall standing collar, white shirt, waistcoat and a ruby cravat. His leather breeches are tight and reach his boot tops. He has dark hair like Edward’s and thick, black brows that frame his fathomless eyes. I’ve nicknamed himMr Darcy. He looks very stern, so I imagine what has happened before he posed for the painting and more than once, I’ve wondered what Edward would look like wearing that outfit and I have to confess to finding the idea quite arousing. With his broad shoulders and the muscular legs that I’ve seen when he’s wearing his running shorts, I’m certain that he’d look good in regency clothing.

The house has many rooms, most of which are unused and look like they haven’t been decorated in decades. Furniture sits under dust sheets, bulky white shapes like ghosts of a forgotten era when the house would have, presumably, been busy. I wonder if Edward brought all of the furniture to the house or if some of it was left here by previous owners. At first, it made me sad to see the unused rooms, to wonder what it would have been like when people sat on the chairs, used the piano, slept in the beds, but now I’m getting used to the sense of emptiness that exists in some areas of the house. The quiet is soothing and so different from life in Brixton where there’s always noise and bustle.

The bedrooms at far corners of the different wings, where curtains hang either side of sash windows, and where my footsteps echo as they tread boards that haven’t felt the weight of a human in months or even years, are fascinating. Who slept in these rooms? Were they young or old, happy or sad? Did they have hopes and dreams that were realised or did they spend their lives feeling unfulfilled? It’s a shame that so much of the house isn’t used and yet, how would Edward fill these spaces? With family? With guests? If the house was sold, then I can imagine it could be divided up to create luxury apartments or taken over by a trust that would turn it into a tourist attraction. Perhaps it would even be used for TV dramas and movies as some similar properties are now.

Yesterday, as I kneaded bread dough on the kitchen table, I asked Polly about the house and she told me that it’s been like this for as long as she’s been here. The previous mistress, Edward’s wife, had plans to redecorate and renovate, but she was so often busy with her career — apparently she had to travel a lot for modelling jobs — that finding the time to oversee such projects was difficult. And then, after she was gone, Edward lost all interest in doing anything at all to the property.

When I told Polly that I’d like to use more of the fruit from the orchard for making jams and preserves, she told me that there might be jars and other useful equipment in the attic. Apparently, nothing gets thrown away when you have plenty of space to store it just in case it’s ever needed. I decided then and there that I’d go and explore today after Joe had gone to school. And so, here I am, climbing the staircase on the second floor that leads to the attic.

Standing outside the door, I feel anxious. Only having lived in a ground floor flat, I’m not used to having access to an attic and this one doesn’t even need a ladder, it has actual stairs. The doorknob is brass and feels cool to the touch and a shiver runs down my spine. This could be a horror movie and the audience could be shouting at me right now, telling me to turn back and ignore my curiosity. But, of course, that’s for movies and make-believe and this is real life. The worst I can expect to encounter up here will probably be spiders and possibly bats. I’d prefer not to come across either one but they’re infinitely preferable to an axe wielding murderer or a poltergeist of some kind, or even a vampire that will drag me into the shadows and feast upon my blood. Sometimes I think I might have read too many books…

The handle turns with a groan and the door squeaks on its hinges as it swings inwards. The vast space before me is filled with hazy light that enters through the paned windows, creating rectangular patches on the floorboards. The way the light falls creates areas of shadow and those are the ones that make the hair on my nape rise. Anything could be hiding there, ready to pounce, ready to swallow me whole.

‘Cut it out!’ My voice emerges shakier than I’d like but I needed to hear something other than the pulse of blood through my ears. I am an adult, and I am perfectly capable of exploring an attic without getting the jitters. ‘Now where would the jars be stored?’

There is a clear pathway through the middle of the attic while on either side, beneath the windows, are piles of things. Some are covered with dust sheets as in the bedrooms below, and I get the sense of forgotten eras as I walk past them. Time has stood still here for many, many years and I decide to come and have a good look through things at a later date — after I’ve checked with Edward if it’s OK to do so, of course. There could be old toys here that might interest Joe and possibly family photographs that he’d like to see. The more I get to know him, the more it becomes clear that he’s a bright and inquisitive child and he deserves to be educated about his family background, to know the mother he lost. I’m sure he’ll have questions as he gets older and there might be answers in this attic.

When I reach the far end, I realise that starting there is probably foolish. It’s more likely that recent items would be stored closer to the door, so I’ll head back that way and begin there.

The first dust sheet I lift reveals a set of designer luggage, a Moses basket and a bottle steamer. The latter must have been Joe’s when he was a baby and as I take a closer look at the luggage, I see that it is monogrammed with L.C.Lucille Cavendish?Curiosity drives me to pick up the one case and it’s heavy. Are her things still inside? That thought makes me shiver and I put the case back where I found it then move on.

The next pile has some of those large plastic storage tubs with lids and so I crouch down to look inside them. There are baby clothes, some toys and one filled with photograph albums and something I haven’t seen for a while… DVDs. It hits me then that I haven’t seen any photographs around the house. There are portraits, yes, but they’re years old and not of anyone still living. Have they been hidden away because Edward couldn’t bear to look at them?

Before I can change my mind, I pull the tub away from the others and lift the lid, reaching for the photobook withJoeon the cover.

Chapter14

Edward

This morning I had an early meeting in London and I intended on staying at the office for the rest of the day, but by early afternoon, I was restless. September is a month that I’ve always enjoyed. It goes back to school time, I’m sure, the sense that it was a time for new beginnings, fresh starts and all that type of thing. I was always happiest at school because I knew what to expect and when I was there, I could avoid my father’s dark moods and my parents’ arguments. Weird how a month that’s near the end of the year can feel like that but this year, I felt it even more. Perhaps it has to do with Cynthia going away and having Ava around.

Ava seems to have settled in well and despite my initial reservations about having a new nanny in my home, I do feel quite comfortable around her. She’s quiet and efficient and it’s already clear that Joe adores her. Quite often, I’ll get home to find them playing in the garden or sitting together on a blanket spread out on the grass, eating fruit from the orchard, and reading. One day, I went out to them to see what had captured Joe’s attention and I saw that Ava had found some of my old childhood books in the library and was reading them with Joe. Not wanting to disturb them, I sat at the table on the terrace and feigned interest in my phone but I was watching and listening to their easy way with each other. It was funny to see the familiar covers of my old books again and to realise that some of the themes are still so relevant today.

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