Liz Fielding - Mistletoe and the Lost Stiletto

Diary update: I have to admit that when Nathaniel asked me if I was hungry I didn’t anticipate a hot dog from a stall on the Strand, but it was junk food at its finest. And the onions were piled up high enough to bring tears of joy to the eyes of the government’s diet Tsar. But then it’s been that sort of day. Surprises all round. Horrible ones, delicious ones and a man a girl could love. Not fairy tale falling in love, but the genuine article.

Will everything be back to normal tomorrow?

Can anything ever be normal again?

What is normal?

Nathaniel didn’t say anything until they were near the store, then he reached out and, hand on her arm, said, ‘Out of sight, I think.’

She didn’t argue, but ducked down until the barrier clanged behind them and he’d pulled into a parking bay and switched off the engine. Released his seat belt.

‘You saw something?’ she asked as she slid down from the seat without waiting for him to help her.

Nat shook his head, put his arm around her shoulders and swept her towards the lift, wanting her inside, out of sight. Regretting the crazy impulse to go out in the snow. Anyone might have seen her.

The guy at the hot dog stall wouldn’t forget two idiots who’d gone out to play in the snow, stood for ever, eating hot dogs and talking.

‘What’s bothering you?’ she asked.

‘I hadn’t realised… This is a lot more serious than I thought, Lucy.’

He keyed in the code and breathed more easily when the door clicked shut behind them, shedding his coat and gloves, kicking off his boots. It was probably the first time he’d actually been glad to be home since he’d moved into the apartment. The first time it had felt like home. A sanctuary.

‘You’re scaring me,’ Lucy said, cold hands fumbling with her zip.

He stopped her. Not cold, just shaking, he discovered and, instead of unzipping it for her, he put his arms around her, held her, because he was scared for her.

This wasn’t simply some romance gone wrong. It wasn’t even just an amoral PR campaign that meant heads would roll right up to boardroom level.

‘Nathaniel? Now you’re really worrying me!’

He let her go, unzipped her jacket, helped her out of it. ‘Okay. While the fake romance would be an embarrassment to Henshawe, I’ve no doubt he could contain the damage, but the fair trade thing is fraud.’

‘Fraud?’

‘It’s going to seriously damage him and the Henshawe Corporation when it gets out. The Lucy B chain will be history, his shareholders will want blood and he’ll be facing a police investigation.’

‘You’re talking jail time?’ she asked, shocked.

‘He’s probably shredding papers as fast as he can right now. Talking to his suppliers to cover his tracks. But, while you’ve got his file, written proof of what he did, he’s not safe and I believe that a man who has the morals of a cowpat would go to any lengths to stop that from happening.’

‘You’re saying that I’m in danger?’

Before he could answer, the phone rang and he unhooked it from the wall. ‘Hart.’

‘Nat, it’s Bryan. Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just had a call from the police.’

His heart rate picked up. ‘And?’

‘It seems they’ve had a missing person report. A woman called Lucy Bright. The WAG of some billionaire. She was last seen heading this way just after four this afternoon and appears to have vanished off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but the timing is right and the description matches the woman you saw this afternoon.’

‘Did you mention that to the police?’ he asked, reaching out a hand as he saw the colour drain from Lucy’s face.

‘No. It might not have been her and I assumed that you wouldn’t want policemen crawling all over the store talking to the staff. Or the ensuing press invasion. Not until we’re sure, anyway.’

‘Good call.’

‘I searched the name on the internet and I’m about to send you a photograph as an email attachment. In the meantime, I’ve initiated a sweep of the premises, just to cover ourselves.’

‘Right…’ Then, ‘You were in the force, Bryan. Isn’t it unusual for them to get involved in something like this so quickly?’

‘It depends who’s missing. And why.’

Nat listened as he detailed all the likely reasons why the police had got involved so quickly. Suspected violence, theft… He never took his eyes off Lucy who, her free hand to her mouth, was watching him with growing apprehension.

‘I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, keep me posted.’

Lucy was numb. The minute Nathaniel had picked up the phone she’d known something was wrong. And when she’d heard him say the word police she’d known the game was up.

‘The police? They’ve been here? Looking for me?’

‘Just a phone call.’ Just!

‘You’ve been reported missing and they’re following up on a suggestion that you were last seen entering the store.’

‘They’re not going to give up, are they? I’m so sorry to have involved you in this, Nathaniel, but I can’t believe that Rupert had the nerve to involve the police.’

‘You stole a file,’ he pointed out. ‘One filled with sensitive commercial information.’

‘I know, but…’ Then, ‘Are you saying that he’s had the nerve to accuse me of stealing?’

‘Not officially.’

‘So what?’

‘He could be using the fact that there has been a campaign by your fans on the social media sites to put pressure on them. Apparently, the most used hashtag in the last few hours has been #findLucyB.’

‘Well, colour me surprised.’

‘You’re not impressed that you inspire such devotion?’

‘Not desperately. I have no doubt that it was instigated by the Henshawe PR team. Why waste time looking for someone when you can persuade half a million people to do it for you? Get a little hysteria going. But I still don’t understand. The police don’t normally bother about missing persons unless there’s blood on the carpet. Do they?’ she pressed when he didn’t immediately answer.

‘Not normally. Not this soon. It must have been the call from your mother that did the trick.’

Lucy froze.

‘My mother?’

‘She gave an emotional doorstep interview, pleading with anyone who knows where you are to call her. It’s probably online if you want to see it.’

‘No! I don’t. She’s not my mother,’ she said. ‘I told you. I don’t have a mother.’

‘Lucy-’

‘She’s a fake,’ she said quickly, all the peace, the pleasure of their evening together dissipating in that bitter reality. ‘Just another lie dreamed up to keep the press engaged.’ The worst one. The cruellest one. The rest she might abhor, but they, at least, had a purpose. ‘What’s a fairy tale without a wicked witch…?’

Except that she hadn’t been wicked. She’d been fifteen. Abandoned by an abusive boyfriend. Alone and afraid. Lies…

Before she could move, Nathaniel had his arms around her, holding her rigid body, murmuring soft calming sounds that purred through her until she finally stopped shaking. He held her while her silent, angry tears soaked his T-shirt. Held her until the tension seeped from her limbs and she melted against him.

Just held her.

It was a technique she used to calm distraught children, holding them tight so that they’d feel safe even when they fought her-her promise that, whatever they did, she would not let go. And, even as she broke down, buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed like a baby while his hands gently stroked her back, in the dark recesses of her mind, she recognized that this was something he’d done before.