Jessica Hart - Appointment at the Altar

But when they got to the baggage hall she discovered that she had no charge on her phone. Lucy sighed. Why did this kind of thing keep happening to her? She could spend all morning at Heathrow, trying to contact Meg on a public phone.

Or she could swallow her pride and ask Guy if she could take him up on his offer after all.

Lucky she had never been that proud.

Her jaw actually dropped when she saw Guy’s apartment. After first class and the luxury of stepping into a sleek limousine that had pulled up right outside the terminal, she had thought that she might be getting blasé, but the apartment block in the heart of London’s Docklands was a different world altogether.

‘Home’ was too cosy a word for Guy’s penthouse, right at the top of the soaring tower, with heart-stopping three hundred and sixty degree views across London. He had access to a fabulous bar, a gym, a spa and even a private cinema with reclining leather seats should he care to see the latest film with a few friends in comfort.

It could hardly have been more different from the isolated homestead at Wirrindago. Strange to think that they had been there only the day before.

‘Gosh,’ was all she could say when Guy showed her into his apartment. It was like stepping into something from a design magazine. The curved wall of the huge living area was made entirely of glass, opening on to a balcony with a spectacular view over the great bend of the Thames far below. The floor was of polished oak, and the entire apartment was decorated in cream and neutrals that created a sense of light and calm.

Lucy wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t been impressed, although she did her best not to look too intimidated. The kitchen was all steel and granite and electronic control panels. ‘A bit different from the kitchen at Wirrindago, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘I believe it was designed by NASA,’ said Guy, straight-faced. ‘I get up in the morning and think, What shall I do? Boil an egg or launch a space shuttle?’

Lucy laughed. ‘Do you ever do anything as boring as cook in it?’

‘Nope. Cooking is not one of my talents,’ he admitted.

‘It seems a shame to have all this and not use it,’ she said, running her hand over the granite worktop.

Guy shrugged. ‘I can order in food if I have guests, or there are plenty of restaurants round here. I tend just to keep the basics. The housekeeping service should have stocked the fridge.’ He opened the steel door. ‘Ah, yes…milk, orange juice, water…There should be bread and fruit somewhere, too,’ he added as he closed the fridge. ‘Help yourself to whatever you want.’

He showed Lucy into a room with a floor to ceiling window looking down on to the river and the vibrant commercial centre that had grown out of the old docks of London. Even in the dull light, the glass windows of the great towers glittered as they thrust upwards, and it was hard to imagine that once great ships had been tied up at the quays and wharfs that were now home to bars and shops and cafés.

The view was impressive enough, but Lucy actually gasped when she saw the bathroom. ‘This is fabulous!’ she said. ‘I’ll never dare use it!’

‘I thought you were desperate for a shower?’

‘I am, but once I’m in there, I may never want to leave. I’d better ring Richard’s mother first, anyway,’ she said, guiltily remembering why she was there. ‘May I use your phone until my mobile is charged up?’

Guy went to have a shower himself while she was talking to Richard’s mother, and as he came out of his room a little later he saw Lucy put down the phone with a tiny grimace.

‘Bad news?’

‘Not really. Richard’s much the same, I gather. I can go and see him this afternoon.’

Guy’s hair was wet from the shower and he was buttoning up his shirt. The action seemed extraordinarily intimate and Lucy averted her eyes, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m afraid his mother is expecting miracles, though.’

‘In what way?’ Barefoot, Guy walked over to the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘Fancy some coffee?’

‘That would be wonderful,’ said Lucy, subsiding gratefully on to one of the chrome stools at the kitchen bar. In spite of sleeping on the plane, she was suddenly so tired that she thought even coffee wouldn’t be able to keep her awake.

She pushed her hair wearily away from her face. ‘Ellen seems convinced that Richard will wake up as soon as I open my mouth.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m hoping they haven’t got the wrong idea.’

Guy was wrestling with the coffee machine, which like everything else in the apartment was the latest cutting-edge technology. ‘Sometimes I miss instant coffee,’ he said with a grunt of frustration. ‘At least you didn’t need a degree in computer science whenever you wanted a mug of coffee.’

‘Let me.’ Lucy slid off her stool and went over to push him out of the way. ‘There you go,’ she said smugly and, as if by magic, the machine purred into life.

‘How did you do that?’ Guy stared at her, impressed.

‘I worked in a café for a while,’ she said, climbing back on to her stool. ‘I may not be able to rope a calf, but I can make coffee.’

‘Which is, frankly, a lot more useful in Canary Wharf.’ Guy opened the fridge again to find milk and orange juice. ‘So, what have Richard’s parents got the wrong idea about?’

‘Ellen seems to be under the impression that I rushed back to see him the moment I heard he was ill because I’m still in love with him,’ said Lucy glumly. ‘She was talking as if Richard and I will get engaged the moment he wakes up.’

Guy found some glasses and poured two glasses of juice. ‘Tell them about Kevin,’ he advised. ‘If they know you’re in love with someone else, they won’t waste their time hoping it will all be all right when Richard comes round. It’s much better to be honest.’

Lucy brightened. ‘Yes, I suppose I could mention Kevin if it starts getting awkward. That’s a good idea.’ She yawned hugely. ‘Sorry, it’s all catching up on me.’

‘You could have a nap if you don’t have to go to the hospital until this afternoon.’

‘I might do that after I’ve rung Meg.’ She registered what he was wearing for the first time. ‘Are you going to work?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Of course. We’re back in the city now,’ said Guy, putting on an air of importance. ‘Places to go, things to do, people to see…You know how it is!’

‘You probably just want to show off your tan,’ she said, a little snip in her voice, and he grinned.

‘That too. I’ll let you have the door codes,’ he told her, ‘and then you can come and go as you want.’

The apartment was empty when Lucy got back from the hospital that evening. She frowned, looking at her watch. Surely Guy wasn’t still at the office? He hadn’t said he’d be this late.

But then, he hadn’t said when he would be back, and why should he? He didn’t have to account to her. She was just his cousin’s cook, and a man like Guy would no doubt have a scintillating social life to go with his ultra-glamorous apartment. He would be out every night at parties or in clubs, eating in expensive restaurants and mixing with the celebrity A-list.

Lucy looked around at the stylish furniture and minimalist décor. No, this wasn’t the kind of apartment you came back to for cosy nights in, to collapse on the sofa after a hard day at work and watch television with a take-away. It was the sort of place you brought your beautiful, sophisticated girlfriend and seduced her with the lights of London at your feet.

Maybe Guy was with that beautiful someone right now. He might be in the middle of a passionate reunion, bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t take his girlfriend back to the apartment because it was occupied by someone who wasn’t in the slightest bit sophisticated. Lucy looked down at her jeans and T-shirt and only just stopped herself sighing in time.