A Different Class - 4

Chapter 4

The next few days were very long. She had text messages from Nat, but they were few and far between and only really commented on how hectic he was. She felt quite lost, one minute they were losing themselves in a kiss, feeling almost drugged with longing for each other, the next he barely exchanged more than pleasantries. When he wasn’t around she felt so many doubts and insecurities. 

She had felt nothing but insecurity since the day she came home from school on an average Friday to see Police cars outside her house. She'd done the walk a thousand times, and when she saw the cars, she knew what had happened, not the exact details, but that it was her mother. In fact, she had realised that she'd been constantly living in fear of this moment. 

A woman had met her and explained that she had to go with her. Dazed and confused she was taken to a nearby police station until a family liaison officer arrived and explained that her mother was dead. Later she found out that a neighbour had found her dead in a chair, empty tablet bottles scattered around the room. No letter, no message, no signs of love for Rebecca, but then her mother had died inside three years earlier, leaving a six year old to try and fight her way through the world with no real support.  No, Rebecca had been alone long before she went into care. She'd fought the world alone since her father had died.

That evening she was placed into foster care, a woman with two sons who whispered nasty things about her mother when their parents were out of the room. She lasted less than a week there, needing to fight them to protect her own psyche, and she was punished heavily for it. It was the same at the next five homes. Then she ended up fighting to survive in a children’s home. She’d blanked most of that period out of her head, but she had constant terrors of being spun back into that environment. Hostile and alone. Fighting for her next meal, next drink. 

It was only now that she realised, Nate was the first person who’d elicited that sort of response in her, one of such fear and insecurity in her for years, because he was the first person in years to make her feel alive, to attack her barriers and get close to her. Until now she had surrounded herself with ‘safe’ people, those she knew would never doubt her or threaten her security or sanity. She loved her friends, but had never opened herself up for this sort of infiltration since and she was terrified.

Friday finally came, she was looking forward to a break, and Stephen her boss insisted on buying the first round of celebratory drinks after a busy but successful working week. So she found herself sat with Monica and Pat, the two office secretaries in an overpriced wine bar sharing a bottle of Chardonnay. Sadie and Tim her fellow junior executive colleagues arrived and joined them, and they all chuckled at Stephen, who seemed drunk despite it being only half past six, and was dancing with the temp who seemed equally as drunk.

“They had lunch at the same time,” Monica hissed across the table, always one to gossip she threw that branch on to the fire of speculation.

They all did a double take, leaning in just as she'd known they would.

“Do you think they’re…?” Bec was unable to finish the ludicrous suggestion. Stephen was a good looking man, if you liked greying middle aged men. He kept himself in shape and was generous with both his time and his money. Hosting an evening drink like this and footing the bill was all too typical. But that generosity could be misconstrued by a more naive person. Like the temp.

She shrugged, “I do all the allowances….”

“Go on!” Tim was almost in Monica's lap in excitement. He was almost as big a gossip as the two receptionists.

“Well let’s just say the last three weeks he’s had receipts for eleven different hotel rooms. I called one because I needed a VAT number……the room was vacated by seven pm, the day he checked in.”

They all sat open mouthed, all five of them loved Stephen’s wife, of all the senior partner's wives, she was clearly the nicest. Elegant, gracious and so friendly. It was ridiculous a thought to imagine that this young dizzy blond was a better option than her, then there was their three children.

“The grass is always greener! He's not getting any younger...” Tim muttered and they all nodded in agreement. "I mean look at Paul McCartney! Fleeced for millions...always an agenda!"

They then sat in silence contemplating those thoughts, only stealing the occasional glance at the ‘odd’ couple dancing.

Bec had little in common with her colleagues, and really kept her self to herself in work, but she’d been on an assignment with Sadie a year ago where they spent a week in Paris together. They were completely different people but they had some sort of connection since.  So she was chatting amicably with the other woman when she changed the topic completely.

“Where you going after this?” she asked Bec.

She shrugged a reply, “I’m heading home for a night in front of the TV after this disgrace ends…" she gestured to the boss and the temp, "then I may go out tomorrow, not sure yet? You?”

“I was thinking of turning this into a night out, some of my friends are in a pub across the river….do you fancy it?” 

Sadie smiled enthusiastically, but Rebecca was less keen, but she thought about the lacklustre TV listings she’d checked out earlier, and the thought of how much she deserved a night out, how it would if nothing else ease the pain of the dancing spectacle they'd all endured the last hour or two. “Actually, I could be tempted…”

She smiled knowingly, “my friends are in the Snake bar, some new wine bar near their offices. They can put our names on the door?” She looked around the room, “otherwise you’re stuck with Pat and Monica who’ll both be in bed by nine, or Tim who’ll be mincing in some gay bar about the same time…” she gestured to the dance floor, “and if 'that' is your cup of tea then you’re both sad and mad!”

Rebecca burst out laughing, “Ok, ok, ok! I’ll come!”

Within minutes they were in a cab, then bursting into the affray of a wine bar in full swing. The place was full, groups of suited men stood around chatting and glancing furtively at the elegant women, who equally stood around in small groups, drinking wine and gossipping about everything and nothing.

Bec felt a bit awkward as she waited for Sophie to emerge from the furore at the bar. This was the sort of place she hated, there was something unnerving about a room full of suits. And posh ones at that.

Sophie beckoned from the far side of the room, where a particularly rowdy bunch had gathered. She was introduced to a few people who were acquaintances of her colleague, and they chatted amicably. Champagne had appeared from somewhere, and her glass seemed eternally full.

An hour or so later she headed to the bar and got a tall glass of water, which she downed rather inelegantly and was glad for the reprieve from the fuzzy head that had started to swamp her the last half an hour. She realised that her share of the tow bottles of wine shared with her colleagues had been added to by several glasses of champagne, and she hadn't eaten since a rushed sandwich at lunchtime.

She found the ladies, and saw her pale face, and dark eyes in the mirror, the effects of working a long week had taken their toll on her face! At the bottom of her bag she discovered a half empty packet of travel wet wipes to her relief, and scrubbed her face clean. Shrugging, it was after all the best she could manage, she headed back into the bar when she froze.

“It’s always a chore darling, you know that!” She knew the voice, although it was a rather theatrical and she slowly turned to see Nate, holding court with a large group, spouting a rather animated story to an intently watching and guffawing group a few metres from where she stood. He had his back to her, but she knew it was him, blond, elegant, and so natural and comfortable in this environment. Unlike her. Was it this difference that made her feel sick? Or the fact that he was supposed to be in Paris? She shook herself slightly, they'd had one date, he hardly owed her anything, it was ridiculous to expect him to check in with her. So with a smile she made towards him.

“So what happened then?” Someone asked, they were all agog listening to the story, and Rebecca started to feel sick, stopping in her tracks.  

Nate shrugged dramatically, “he’s back where he belongs, and boy do the World and his wife know that. He’s not ever going to venture into…” Bec watched aghast as he imitated quote marks and added, “’that world’…..again!”

The sentence end was lost in the hysteria that followed the story. Her anxiety had been well placed, she knew what he was talking about, her. And for all the excuses and conversations they’d had over the last week, she felt devastated and betrayed by this man.

In small steps she began to retreat away from the group, wanting to leave the room undetected. But she backed into someone, resulting in a drink being spilt all over her and a tall man, in a pinstripe suit.

“God you oaf! Look where you’re going!” He was both rude and angry, but so was she.

Seeing red she turned to him, “I am not an oaf, I am manoeuvring around a busy bar. It’s about time you learnt some manners, you stuck up bastard!”

Nate’s jaw dropped in surprise as he spotted her, or more likely heard her, and as she made to spin on her heel to leave the room, their eyes met. There was the merest sign of apology in his eyes, but at that point she didn't care, rushing away she squeezed between people, before she burst out on to the street. The fresh air hit her like a sledge hammer, and she staggered for a moment. Fortunately there were a few cabs outside, and she dived into one and reeled off her address before slumping back against the seat, devastation overwhelming her. How could she have got him so wrong?

Rebecca ignored the constant ringing of her phone, even if it was anyone other than Nate she had no interest in talking, not at the moment. But as she was putting the key into the door to her house, a voice broke the silence of the quiet street.

“Rebecca, wait! Please!” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Nate jogging down the street towards her, but couldn’t close the door quick enough behind her to avoid him. “Rebecca, let me just talk to you please, I can explain.”

Stepping inside the hallway, she leaned her body weight against the door, but his foot slipped onto the threshold and blocked it from closing it completely. “I have nothing to say to you Nathaniel, you have nothing to explain, and I have no interest in hearing. Go back to your stuck up friends and shove your head back up your arse where it belongs! I've had enough of the Groves family to last me a life time!”

“I’m not going anywhere, I want to speak to you, I want to explain why I was laughing at my father and the things he said. But I was laughing AT him sweetheart not WITH him, honestly. I have no interest in him, I already feel more loyalty to you than him over this whole mess.”

She suddenly moved away from the door, and it swung open. “So you've told them about me then? The people you were talking to tonight. Did you tell them that you’ve been out with me socially? That you’ve kissed me?” She felt the tears well in her eyes and they started to fall as she added, “Did you tell them the promises you made to me? The way you said I made you feel?…The way you’ve made me feel?” By now she was sobbing, part distress, but also the alcohol was playing it's part.

“Becca, I meant everything I said!” 

She gulped no one had called her Becca since her mother died. Rebecca when she'd done something wrong, but Becca during the good times...though there were too few of them. “Did you tell them Nat? That you've sweet talked me, that you're waiting for that 'special moment'?" She spluttered with emotion, "…God just go, get out of here!”

As she turned away he grabbed her arm, “I was laughing at how ridiculous my father sounded on TV, I promise. I got to the bar ten minutes before I saw you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left. I was going to call you but I didn’t want to stress you out, to push you. I know I’ve pushed you hounded you. I'm impatient, I want more than you can imagine, but I thought you may need some time.”

She shook her head, “Words! They mean nothing Nat!”

He pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her, firstly the tears on each cheek, then her nose, then her lips. She’d never been kissed so gently, so intently. She fought him for a few moments, but she was tired, and lonely, and he made her feel so good…..

Then she was responding, her mouth opening to allow his tongue to slide in and meet his, her tears subsided into whimpers, and after a few seconds he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

“I’m monopolising you now, and manipulating you again. Shall I go? I’ll come back tomorrow? Picnic as planned?”

How did he always say and do the right things? She looked at him forlornly, not knowing which way was up, “I think I need a hug! Please?”

He smiled, “I’ll hang around and hug you…..and that is it! Neither of us is in the right frame of mind. And if this goes any further, it will be a special moment after I've wooed you, ok?” He lifted her chin forcing her to look at him, and she nodded meekly.

Upstairs, he disappeared into the bathroom, so she changed into her pyjamas - a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. She was brushing her hair when she heard a long slow exhale from behind her.

“You don’t want to make this easy for me, do you?” 

She smiled, “I promise I’ll be good.”

He shook his head, “damn!” 

She knew he was joking. She’d found him one of Johnny’s old t-shirts, which he’d put on in the bathroom, and as she got into bed, he took off his navy tailored suit trousers and laid them with his jacket and shirt, draped on a chair. Then he slid into the bed next to her. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked nervously. She nodded as he opened her arms, and she curled into his chest. Nate rolled his eyes to the ceiling, this was a real test of integrity!

They must’ve slept, it was light when Bec finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Nate lying face down next to her, his usually immaculate blond hair an unruly tangle an arm across his head hid his eyes, the other arm a heavy weight across her back.

“Morning…” she breathed, loving the security of his embrace, the warmth of his body.

A grumble emerged from the hair next to her, so she reached out and finger combed it over his ear, “you look terrible!”

“Thanks…." his eyes still hadn't opened. "I had two very busy days in Paris, about four hours sleep and the travel. Then I had the worst part, to try and sleep with you scantily clad draped all over me! I am completely exhausted!” He half opened on eye and then grinned.

She smiled, “is it too early for coffee?”

He shook his head, “never too early for coffee….”

“Man after my own heart.” She slipped out of the bed, pausing at the door to glance back at him spread-eagled her heart surged with longing. A man after her heart indeed!

A Different Class - 3

Chapter 3

Rebecca had been handed a new contract to work on after the success of the last project, so she was extremely busy once she got to work. She'd waited all day for a vital phone call and it didn’t occur until nearly six o’clock, so she had literally just got out of the shower having washed away the grime of a day in London, when the door bell rang. Wrapping a towel around herself she reached for the doorway phone.

“Come up!” she shouted into the intercom as she released the door. “First floor, my door is open!” Then she disappeared into her bedroom to quickly dress.

When she emerged from her bedroom in a pale blue silk tunic dress, she tumbled into Nate who was stood awkwardly in the hallway, twiddling his thumbs. His eyes lit up when he held her, steadying her, “I didn’t know where to wait!”

"You should have gone into the lounge, I didn't mean to seem inhospitable." His arms were still around her and she was aware of the length of her body pressed against his, she felt unsteady, her whole body seemed to throb with what? Anticipation? She was so far out of the dating game that she had no idea what it all meant any more. 

As Nate spoke his breath sounded ragged and Rebecca realised that the contact between them was affecting him in the same way it was her.  "I would never think to be so presumptuous!"

She grinned, "then next time I'll be more explicit in my instructions!"

He nodded an answer, his eyes wide, and Bec felt as though she could barely breathe from this unexpected tension between them. In a dazed silence she finished brushing her hair, slid into a pair of heels, grabbed her bag. But then by the time he led her down the stairs, they were both chuckling, finally comfortable together again. 

The Italian was not only relaxed, intimate; it was also somewhere he frequented regularly if the welcome from the maitre’d was anything to go by. They sat in a corner booth, secluded from the main restaurant.

“What interests you?” he asked after she’d perused the menu for a few minutes and a waiter hovered nearby.

 She smiled at his choice of words, he was always so formal! She sat back folding her arms, “You choose! See how much you know me! After all you had two weeks of watching my eating habits!”

He smiled, “a real challenge!” He turned to the waiter, “I’ll take the penne arabiata to start, followed by a steak Sicilian - rare. This good lady will have seafood salad to start, and your chicken Alfredo is to die for so that for main, and a bottle of both Chianti and Chablis.”

As the waiter disappeared he turned to her, “so?” His smile was divine as he merely stared at her waiting for an answer.

Trying not to feel overwhelmed with his undivided attention, she smiled, “Sounds good, but I shall reserve final comments until I’ve tasted it.”

“It won’t disappoint!” he laughed as the waiter turned up with the wines. Pouring an amount for him to taste. Once he nodded at the waiter his glass was filled and the same procedure happened with her white wine.

“I can’t quite believe you’ve ordered two bottles of wine!” She whispered once the waiter had departed. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Nate chuckled, “No! Of course not! One bottle would go too soon, and you simply cannot mix your meat, cream and seafood!” 

“Of course!” she shook her head at that remark. Yet more etiquette that she was unprepared for. When would she ever be prepared for all this? 

He proceeded to tell her all about his previous day and the dilemmas of late public transport. And within moments their starters arrived. The seafood salad was divine. Slices of calamari, perfectly cooked scallops and prawns, dressed in a delicious vinaigrette.

“Ten out of ten so far!” She answered when he asked how it was.

He topped up her wine, “there’s very little on this menu I haven’t tried. And I love it all, though I think the Alfredo is the best. Their signature dish!”

She wasn’t disappointed, sitting back her hands knitted across her full stomach. “That was wonderful!”

He finished his last few mouthfuls of steak, “dessert?”

“I couldn’t eat another thing!” she assured him. 

Nodding in agreement he suggested, “Coffee? Or shall we go across the road for something lighter….a gin or a whisky?”

“A coffee and a sambucca are the perfect end to the meal….then maybe a little stroll to get the digestion working!”

He ordered from the waiter, and again they chatted amicably, but the tension became a little awkward as they finished their drinks. Suddenly Rebecca didn't want the night to end. There was something so appealing about Nathaniel. He was good looking, there was no denying that, and he devoted his time and attention to her. Then there was the fact that he was such a nice guy, so well educated, yet self deprecating of that fact. Where she wanted to criticise him, he was already there, laughing at himself. 

Then there was her reaction to his kiss, well not just his kiss, a hand on her arm was enough to send her off into a Victorian style swoon! Now the meal and any subsequent drinks were over, there were two choices really, go home alone, or invite him back to hers, for what? Coffee?

She wasn't sure she for 'coffee' and any indications that may bring, but she knew was she liked his company, loved how she seemed to be the centre of the universe when she was with him. She wasn't used to that sort of attention and she was basking in it. It was a real quandary, and if he touched her again...she didn't know which way that would send her!

“It’s still early, would you like a walk? Maybe to a little pub I know just down the road?” His words penetrated her thoughts.

Sighing with relief at the temporary reprieve, she nodded, “I need to walk off the four thousand calories I’ve just consumed!” And I'm not ready to say goodnight just yet!

Outside on the street, he took her hand, for a moment they both froze and looked at each other, when she smiled, he smiled too, and they started to walk. A man with such poise and elegance, a natural confidence in himself, was nervous about holding her hand, it was a thought that instilled a lot of confidence. 

“Tell me about your mother!” she asked as they strolled past some shops, the evening was warm and dusky despite being gone half past nine. The details of what sort of woman would tolerate let alone marry Sir Ed had long since intrigued her.

He was quiet for a few moments, “she was a nice woman, but never strong enough for my father, they had a planned marriage, arranged I suppose you’d say. It suited both families at the time.  My father as you aware is a chauvinist, not maliciously, but through ignorance and tradition I suppose." He sighed, "that sounds a ridiculous excuse to my own ears! Anyway, my mother was brought up to believe that her husband would always be right, and in charge. For that reason she was very passive, and became disinterested. She had cancer, and I think it was a relief for her. She just gave up. I was fifteen, but Lizzie and Henry were only eight. They struggled, and then we started on a succession of nannies, and I was away at school. I’ve got little in common with any of them now!”

She laid a hand on his arm, “That’s really sad! I try desperately to see a girl I was in care with regularly, even though she’s taken such a different path to me, it’s been important to me to keep in touch with someone…..I have no one else in the world, and that’s a scary thought! She's the closest thing to family.”

He stopped to look down at her, unable to imagine how it felt to be so completely alone in the world, apart from his siblings, his father came from a huge family, his life was littered with cousins, “so who do you tell your secrets to? Share your good times?”

She chuckled, “six months before the ‘project’ as my boss calls it, I still shared a house with Johnny, Lyle and Tara. They are my best mates from Uni, We shared a house in the first year, and have been friends ever since. I’ve spent every holiday, every Christmas, Easter with one of their families, to the point that their mothers fight over me, they all want the extra guest who helped with dinner, and the washing up! They're better than family sometimes, you know?”

He smiled, “I know exactly what you mean! You choose them! I have a few friends, but they’re more like colleagues, the only person I can call on for emergencies is Patrick. I think you’d like him. There is a bit of a ‘set’ in the ex-Eton circle, and I’ve hated the ceremony of it all. Patrick, is exactly. He's the begrudging heir to a very large estate in Anglia, as well as a huge manufacturing company in Suffolk...he hates it all, spends his days avoiding it! He’s on his tenth job in two years, because he’s not really an academic he seems to be 'let go', but as he comes with such recommendations and a reputation he's just recruited else where. He wants to manage his rock band full time, spends all his allowance promoting them.”

“Wow! A band? What are they called? Are they any good?” Bec's eyes had lit up, she loved music, and especially the rock genre...as long as it wasn't too heavy.

He shrugged, “I’ve never seen them, not really my scene.”

“Your best mate’s passion! How have you never been to a gig?" He grimaced apologetically, which spurred her to add, "Man you need to loosen that bloody tie a bit Nathaniel Groves!”

Stopping to stare at her he asked, “Do you really think?”

Rebecca nodded, “the next gig they play I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun!”

He looked bemused, “ok, why not?”

“You were right the other day, you really need to live a bit Nate! When was the last time you went on an impromptu holiday? Pulled a sickie? Got rat-arsed?” Suddenly she did pity him somewhat, he seemed to constantly have on eye on what was the right thing to do, whilst her life hadn't been easy, at least she only had herself to think about. She didn't hold a position that dictated her behaviour. Her way may not be any simpler, but she'd take the independence and freedom any day. 

He shook his head, not revealing how close she was to  the truth, “are you about to educate me?”

Looking up at him a glint in her eye she chuckled, “Sir Ed will have a wanted notice out on me!”

Cupping her face with a hand he brought his face close to hers, “and can I claim the reward?” 

Her mumble of 'yes' was lost in his lips as he lowered his head to kiss her. When they broke apart, a little dazed, she gripped his arms to steady herself. It could have been seconds or half an hour, she was that dazed and unaware.

“Now I can honestly say that I have never done this in a street! And never with someone as beautiful as you!”

Rebecca was trying to stay upright, his kisses were so devastating, “You’ve learnt one lesson that your father hasn’t….flattery gets you everywhere!”

He laughed and again they gripped hands and continued down the road.

Later after a few whiskeys in a nearby pub, he hailed a cab and they headed back to her house. On the doorstep they both paused awkwardly. This was it,  the moment she'd dreaded. But as Rebecca looked up at him, she lost all embarrassment and any awkwardness, “Do you want to come in?”

He shook his head, “I’m got a meeting at seven, then I have to prepare for two days of meetings in Paris. I can’t be that distracted tonight.” Rebecca instantly felt an overwhelming sense of rejection, he could have said, 'I'd love to, but...or sorry, I really can't', instead he was non committal, almost evasive. But Nate was wise to her confusion, and added quickly, “when I stay I don’t want to rush for anyone. What are you doing on the weekend?”

She shrugged, “nothing special.” She looked up at him trying not to let her disappointment show. “If it’s nice one of the boys may have a Barbie or something…..”

“If there’s nothing in your diary then can I have you for a whole day? I was thinking of climbing up Primrose Hill, having a picnic, then spending the evening in a beer garden overlooking the Thames…”

Glancing up at him she smiled, “Sounds nice, I could make that I think!”

He reached down to kiss her gently, thought that didn't last, and it was minutes later that he was able to muster breath and smile at her, “you have no idea how much I want to take you inside and…..well I…let’s just leave it at that.” With a regal bow, he watched her turn for her door, and once she was safe inside, she watched him disappear around the corner, waving before leaving her view.

A Different Class - 2

Chapter Two 

He hailed a cab, and gave an address a few miles away. Within ten minutes Bec was sat in a booth of a very elegant wine bar, watching Nathaniel at the bar. She was in awe of his presence, even his shoes were elegant, and probably more expensive than any pair she owned. He was very tall, with that blond hair, short and well kept, and unlike his obese, excessive father, he was athletic, slightly tanned and good looking in a posh, perfect kind of way. She was never more glad that she'd dressed for the occasion, and didn't feel under dressed in the bar that would be so uncomfortable. For all the pomp and ceremony that this sort of place demanded, she didn't feel intimidated by the occasion.

A gang of girls all in matching trouser suits sat near the bar giggling over champagne, but all turned to stare at him as he headed towards her with a wine bucket and two glasses. He was s o comfortable in his skin, she couldn't imagine Johnny or Lyle her two best mates even contemplating drinking wine in a bar, by then they were heathens!  

“Is Pinot Grigio ok? I ordered some mixed tapas too, you’re not veggie are you!”

She shook her head, “That’s a statement not a question!”

Nathaniel nodded, “I am quite an observant man! One of the things you DIDN'T argue with father about was meat!”

She took the glass he poured for her and took a long sip in what she hoped was a ladylike manner. His intonation, as perfect as everything else about him, started to feel a little threatening, the last thing she wanted was to appear as his father had viewed her. Common and inconsequential.

“So Nathaniel? Can I call you that?” She broke the silence and dragged her mind away from her own insecurities.

“It’s Nate actually, to everyone but my father dearest!”

“Okay, Nate, so what do you do? Seeing as you know so much about me!”

He smiled as he swallowed a small sip of his wine, “I work for a major city bank….I process accounts for overseas clients, and create portfolios…..does that make any sense? because sometimes I get confused!”

She shrugged, not finding his attempts to belittle the intricacies of his work condescending, “sort of, so these are megabuck accounts then?”

Grinning, he nodded, “pretty much so, I keep an eye on the current trends of stocks, shares and advise my clients. I travel a reasonable amount, mainly to New York or Washington, with the current climate my trips into Europe seem to have reduced! But the rest of the time I just manipulate figures.”

She traced her finger around the rim of her glass, “I doubt that very much, I expect you’re both very intelligent and very important, don’t tell me let me guess, Eton then Oxford?”

He smiled, “Cambridge actually. And again Ms Taylor don’t prejudge!”

Despite the warning in his voice he took her snap comments in good humour. She was instantly apologetic,“Ok. Ok. And call me Bec, only my boss and my parents called me Rebecca, or anything else so formal.”

“Past tense? Are they not around anymore?”

She shook her head, “they both died, my dad when I was a six, my mother when I was nine. I was in foster care til I went to University.” She snapped her mouth closed, annoyed that she'd let that fact spill out so easily, she was normally a closed book. Not even her group of best friends knew much about it, and here she was chatting so freely with a stranger.

Nate was silent as he looked at her, he could tell that she’d said more than she intended, and her vulnerability was tugging at his heart strings. “That must have been so hard for you….we are a million miles apart? I did not realise.”

She shook her head to clear the fog of depression that was always just a few moments away. “No, not really. As I said to your father, we're all varieties, but when it comes down to it, we all breathe, eat and 'use the bathroom'!”

“You said that? Oh I so wish I had witnessed that! What a classic comment!” He had another drink then looked at her again, “you are probably the feistiest woman I have ever met! Probably my Dad too. No wonder he was so defensive...” He saw her eyes widen. "He's a man! Threaten him he will fight! I am not excusing his behaviour!"

“And does that scare you like it scared your father?”

He laughed, “no, definitely not. But it does intrigue me! You intrigue me!”

The conversation halted as a waiter laid several dishes between them. And Bec struggled to digest that last comment.

“Do you like Spanish food?” She had to pull her eyes up to meet his when he finally broke the silence.

Rebecca nodded heartily as she pierced an olive with a cocktail stick and slipped it into her mouth, “I spent a year in Barcelona during University. See I‘m not completely unworldly, not totally uneducated.”

Nat paused to spear his own olive then crunched it looking at her intently, waiting until he'd finished before he spoke. “I know that. I think you are a very intelligent and smart woman.”

She blushed, “no, just scraped through college and worked in a bar in Barcelona…”

“More freedom than I had I suppose. Straight from school to University to a job climbing the scales at this bank…” he looked rueful. “There's a lot to be said for a year working in a bar. I think I would have loved it.”

With irony, she nodded, “I’m sure you would. Though how would you cope with sharing a flat with four other students, a dirty flat that is, above Las Ramblas. Just enough cash to pay your bills….” She looked at him and laughed, “To me it was the greatest adventure, but I sense to you it'd have been a below budget level holiday. You're right that we're different.”

He nodded, “but different is good. I like different!” Eyes pierced her, those deep blue eyes. 

Bec blushed in his gaze dropping her eyes, instead looking at the plates between them, then using her fork she scooped up an albondiga, a spicy meatball. Reaching her lips she realised it was a little too big to slide into her mouth, so she tried to bite at it delicately.

Laughing Nat reached out quickly with a napkin and caught a large dribble of tomato sauce before it landed on her suit.

She swallowed the food, then put the fork down, “God I’m such a slob, sorry Nat, I try not to be! Maybe your dad is right. I'm not worthy of cleaning your shoes, am I?”

“For God’s sake Bec, get over it! So you dribbled a little sauce! It’s hardly shoplifting or knife crime! I think you are refreshing. And I do not mean that in a condescending way at all. I have had enough of the  protocol and procedure that litters my life. I would love to just throw everything in and live in a beach hut….or climb a mountain…..I don’t know be spontaneous. I am sick of the stigma that my title brings. I envy you so much!”

They ate in relative silence as she tried to contemplate his words. She thought that being the future Earl of Cartwright, a titled aristocrat was all that everyone could want. Opportunity, chances, financial security...he made it seem like a cross he had to bear, and he wasn't happy at that.

Nate gestured to the barman for another bottle of wine, and when it arrived he pulled a note out of a dark brown leather wallet and handed it to the waiter, “Keep the change!”

Pouring them a glass each they discussed light topics, the weather, the news, the traffic problems in certain parts of the City. Anything other than themselves, they’d both given way more information than they would instinctively this early on.

It was dark outside when she finally looked at her watch. “I really should be going….it’s so late!”

Nat glanced at his watch, “me too, I’ve got to be on the seven am Manchester train tomorrow.”

“There was me thinking that my eight thirty meeting with my ecstatic boss was a big deal!”

He smiled, “your day may be marginally more pleasurable than mine if that’s the case. And he has every reason to be ecstatic with you! I’ll call us a cab.”

“I’m sure you don’t live anywhere near me, I’ll get myself a cab.”

“a) I dragged you here so it is my responsibility to get you home and b) if there is one thing I am, it is a gentleman. So I will see you home!”

He offered her a hand and she took it as he led her out into the dark street, trying to ignore the sudden rapid increase in her heart beat at the feel of his warm strong hand ensconcing hers.

It took just a few moments to find a taxi, and they travelled in companionable silence the few miles to her home, all the time his hand still held hers and her heart pounded almost making it impossible to hear any conversation, fortunately he was silent.

Nate paid the taxi at the end of the grove that led to the old converted house of which her flat was the middle floor. She stared at him as he turned away, pocketing his wallet.

“I am not expecting to come in, or take advantage of you; I just want to see you to your door. Is that alright? I'll get another taxi once you're safe.”

She shrugged, “I suppose so.”

“Now!” he said as they started towards her house, “I was quite enjoying holding your hand, do you mind?”

She gasped silently as he reclaimed her hand, she hadn’t felt this excited in years, she ignored the voice that warned her she’d never felt this much….what was it? Attraction? 

At the door he stepped back, “I have actually enjoyed this evening far more than I imagined. You are good company Rebecca.”

She smiled up at him, “I am as surprised as you…”

With that he cupped her face with his hand, softly, yet with intent, “I’m going to kiss you….so if you want to run, now is the time…”

Bec had never been warned like that before but she was powerless to resist as his lips came down gently on to hers, and her heart hammered against her chest, butterflies threatening to dislodge the shared bottles of wine and food as her stomach lurched, all the time his lips were gently assaulting hers, prising them apart, and then finally his his tongue slid in to meet hers. Her arms were clamped around his neck, his were running leisurely up and down her spine.

“Gosh!” he finally breathed pulling away. “I cannot believe my behaviour…I am so much better than this, groping you, a lady, in the street.” He straightened her jacket, “I'm on the first Monday morning commuter train to Manchester in the morning. Can I meet you Tuesday? I’ll take you out for dinner?”

Nate spotted the look or reluctance in her eyes, “it is just dinner Rebecca, a nice little Italian I know, a dozen tables, no fuss, just relaxed, me and you and a chicken Alfredo?”

She smiled, “that would be lovely.”

Bec could hardly sleep with anticipation, and after a long almost interminable day in work, she met her best friends Johnny, Lyle, Tara and her boyfriend Jase. The four of them, minus Jase had met in Uni and been firm friends ever since.  They’d all shared a flat until six months ago when Tara had moved in with Jase, at the same time the boys took an extended holiday around Europe. Bec had been unable to afford the rent on their home alone, and the thought of sharing a home with strangers repulsed her. So she’d moved into a smaller flat on her own. Expensive, but the best thing she'd done. 

They still met up most weeks to catch up, usually over a Chinese or Indian meal and a few beers. Tonight was no exception, but they were expecting the inside gossip on her very public encounter with Sir Edward. She'd been unable to exchange more than the odd text with any of them, and she knew that there'd be a long debrief over several pints that evening.

“Cider?” Lyle shouted from the bar as she entered the pub that was equidistant between their homes, and their regular meeting spot.

Bec nodded, giving an 'of course' facial gesture, as she followed his hand directions out via the back room to find Johnny and Tara outside in the beer garden.

They all hugged as she squeezed around the table next to them.

“So superstar, how was it really?” Tara asked her face in a presumptuous  grimace.

Bec shook her head, “Aw-ful! The man is an absolute bigoted buffoon. I have to say it was hell on legs. I never, ever want to see him again.” She then regaled stories of his actions and elaborated on things they'd seen on TV.

“Well you won’t, will you?”

Bec gave a shrug. All bets were off since his dapper and handsome son had swept into her life.

“What does that mean?” Johnny asked, “Do I sense some gossip?”

“What gossip? Lyle asked, placing a tray of drinks on the table.

“Well,” Tara started, “Bec was just saying that a fortnight with Sir Snobby Knob was more than she could handle, and she never wants to see him again….then there was a but!”

“But?” he asked sliding on to the bench opposite her.

“His son Nate has asked me out on a date!”

“Little Lord Fauntleroy? Surely you’re not going!” Tara was agog.

She shrugged, “I’d have said no a million times, but he’s ok….so I said yes!”

They all shouted and laughing slapped her on the back, “What the hell!” was her only answer.

After a raucous Indian meal, she headed home, glad of the alcohol to help her sleep.

A Different Class

Rebecca Taylor threw a pile of magazines into the half full bin bag in the centre of the lounge and groaned. It had been the longest two weeks in her life. And this was truly the first moment that she regretted her career choice. Having an obnoxious man thrust on your life for a few days would be anyone's idea of hell, but it had been so much worse for Bec. Due to a technical glitch and totally out of the blue she had got stuck with the infamous and controversial Sir Edward Groves living in her spare room for two whole weeks. 

She shook her head as she finished cleaning the mess, a full time job since he’d vacated her home that morning. It all seemed so unbelievable - like a low budget movie. Unfortunately it was real. 

The company she worked for, Davison-Eckardt Promotions, had been the major promoter for a new online celebrity satellite TV station. As part of their launch the website 'Watch-On' had organised to film a series of celebrities being house guests with “average Joe’s”, or that was what the tie line for the show had said. The online coverage was live, but the TV station showed highlights and life patches in a Big Brother style.

Bec had been involved in so many meetings, and most of the celebrity choices had been her idea. The more controversial the better, a disgraced children's TV presenter had lodged with Martin, a school teacher and  part time volunteer policeman. That had set the tone of the series, and much to her boss's amazement, it had been a huge success.  They had had phenomenal viewing figures, as well as tens of thousands of hits on their website, and over the twelve weeks and six previous 'duos', the tabloid coverage had been immense. 

Bec was golden girl at work, and life could not have been better. Her match ups were legendary, and the piece de resistance was a poor soul having to tolerate two weeks with Sir Edward. He was a titled peer, a distant relation to the royal family, a sometime politician and a supposed charity campaigner, and a complete nightmare. He regularly graced TV and newspaper alike with his one dimensional Victorian opinions on life and everything else. 

She had been called into the office a day before the launch of the last 'trial' to say that the planned house owner, a journalist, TV presenter and feminist, had been taken ill. It was a complete disaster as Sir Edward had been touted as the highlight to the whole series. If viewing figures continued this idea would become a regular feature, and Davison-Eckardt were credited with it's success, and as a result the company was growing in stature as each week passed. 

When she'd walked into the meeting with Stephen Davison the senior partner at the firm, she'd had no idea that she'd walk out as the replacement for the show. But she was the only one in the office who fitted the profile, being under thirty, female and single, and vocally opposed to the general mutterings of Sir Edward.

Rebecca had tried to fight being involved with everything she had, but her boss hadn’t taken 'no' for an answer. And she lost control of her world, the nausea and panic mounted, she’d watched as her kitchen, lounge and spare room were kitted out with video cameras and then the most brash, over indulgent, egocentric man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting had moved into her small two bedroom flat.

Bec shook her head as she threw away the last copy of Horse and Hound, and the last champagne bottle - he really had been that stereotypical. The climax of the show had been his very vocal departure earlier that morning, and Bec felt ill and unsettled when she thought back to the prior two weeks. But she couldn't rest, despite spending three hours eradicating his presence from her home, there was the small matter of the post production press conference. Rebecca didn't imagine that this would be an opportunity missed by Sir Ed, after all he'd spent the whole two weeks moaning and groaning about EVERY thing. With a sigh, she grabbed her bag and made for the tube. 

“Rebecca!” Stephen her boss came across the reception of their Promotion's building gushing. Part of the deal with the 'lodger' was that she didn't work, they spent virtually twenty four hours a day trying not to murder each other, so it was the first time she'd seen any of her colleagues since the filming started fourteen days earlier.  “There’s a pay rise on the cards for you young lady, that was fantastic. You saved the day in explosive style.”

Rebecca shook her head and allowed him to hug her, he was a hulk of a man and she was swamped in his arms. Then he held her at arm’s length, “you couldn’t have found two less compatible people, really you couldn’t!”

“Yeah, I know!” she sighed. “It wasn’t the most pleasant two weeks of my life.” That was the biggest understatement of the day. 

“And you will be duly compensated for that!” he led her towards the front of the room, “You really saved our bacon Rebecca and the company will never forget that. And we're more than busy after the success of it all.”

Rebecca stood in front of the twenty or more journalists, as well as other members of PR, and the production company and answered a few predictable questions.

“What was the worst thing about having Sir Groves in your house?”, “Did he snore?”, “Will you be keeping in touch with Sir Edward?” 

Each question she answered with tact, “his bad cooking!”, “only occasionally”, and “probably not!”

She could have ranted for hours about his terrible personal habits….she'd felt repulsed when she'd found him cutting his toe nails in front of the TV, and of course there was the arguments about exactly what was on the TV. He hated sports and soaps, her two staples, instead loving antique shows and constant news. Then there was the thick burnt porridge on every saucepan in her home, oh, and he used a minimum of ten towels a day…then left them all over the flat. Add to that his sexist nature, he expected her to run around after him cleaning up, his unfounded rudeness at anything, most of it personal, and then loud telephone conversations all hours of the day and night, or his ridiculously unsociable hours. She could write a book about it, but knew that would sound petty and contrite, so she smiled sweetly.

Once she stepped out of the limelight she relaxed, and knew it’d be a long time before she’d step back into this level of attention again, she was even reconsidering her career. It was so far from what she signed up for, and it had been hell. No amount of financial compensation could make up for all she'd had to tolerate. And she was sure that the edited TV coverage didn't fully show how awful he was. 

Everyone buzzed around waiting for the arrival of the man of the moment. Rebecca dived in the bathroom needing time to herself she stood in front of the mirror and groaned. She looked dreadful, the two weeks had caused her to age. Rifling through her bag, she found a hairbrush and tidied her shoulder length copper locks, it was unruly at the best of time, but it seemed her hair was picking up on her tension and was curling randomly all over the place. 

Her face looked pale, but a little lip gloss seemed to brighten her up, as did a refresh to the silver eye shadow that outlined her blue eyes. She'd deliberately dressed for the occasion in a smart charcoal grey trouser suit and black blouse, she hated austere clothing, but it was appropriate for work, and definitely for this evening, damage limitation. Retying the scarlet scarf at her neck, her token rebellious streak, she took a  deep breath and stepped out into the chaos of Sir Edward's arrival.

Only he didn't come into the reception to the building as planned. A sudden commotion from outside, dragged everyone out in to the street. There was Sir Edward, on the back of a lorry standing on a podium with a microphone and banners...and a whole host of hangers on. 

Rebecca raised her eyes to the sky shaking her head as the gathered crowd fell straight into the trap. With excitement the gathered journo’s clambered to be the first to ask him a question and he lapped it up.

She leaned against the door frame and watched the hideous circus unfold with immeasurable dread.

“Sir Edward? Did you enjoy your two weeks as a house guest?”

He laughed in his annoying and over the top way, “I’ve enjoyed having root canals more!”

“What was the best part?”

“Leaving today, and going back to a proper home!” Chuckling greeted each rude answer.

“Would you do this again?” A young blond woman from a tabloid asked. 

“We raised £50,000 for retired greyhounds, which I am going to double as a gesture to these poor animals…" he gave a dramatic pause before adding, "but I would rather just donate the money in future!”

Bec started to fume, this was about to become ridiculous, they hadn’t got on, that much was evident, but the last thing she deserved was this character assassination.

“So Sir Edward, what was the worst part of the ordeal?”

“Ordeal was the word. I never thought I’d last two weeks in such a small, dark and cramped environment, let alone at the hands of someone who watches soap operas, has such differing ideas on food, cooking, hygiene...there was drinking from pints, eating on knees in  front of the TV, I mean there was no such thing as a soup spoon in the house, and then there was the conversations. I mean I know some young women think they are equal to men, but really!...It's down to this group of people that this country is going to ruin. Leave politics and sport to the men! That's what I say! To put it mildly, well it was just torture…but over now, thank God!” 

The laughs were now being stifled, and Bec knew that a lot of the humour was directed back at him, rather than with him at her, but it didn't hurt any less.

Another man, someone she recognised from previous press conferences smiled as he asked, "So Sir Edward, do you have any tips for the youth of today?"

The smile on his face was priceless, this was what he wanted, the chance to speak in his candid and opinionated manner, "why yes. Firstly, bad language and poor timekeeping are not the way to be successful in life, and secondly, slovenly behaviour, lack of manners and inappropriate, or worse a complete lack of etiquette are truly unacceptable. Fortunately, I no longer have to tolerate such inexcusable circumstances, it'll be a joy to mix with my own...and I'll never need to experience all that again!"

And has he looked to the sky in a mock prayer, Bec had heard enough, so she stepped towards the man she had grown to hate over the last two weeks. As she opened her mouth to protest with a string of profanities, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, and she was lifted off the floor. She'd slunk around at the back of the gathering, so when she started to kick and struggle no one noticed, and she was carried back into the now empty reception and deposited on the floor.

Spinning around Bec launched at her attacker with two clenched fists. Then she froze, as she took in the tall, impeccable profile of Nathaniel Groves, oldest son and heir to the Groves Empire. He was at least six foot four, a good eight inches taller than her, and dressed in Saville Row's finest, an extortionately expensive tailored pinstripe suit, as she looked up into his blue eyes, and perfect symmetrical features, the neat blond hair, she felt her anger grow. It was not her finest hour, bur frustration meant she threw a punch at his chest.

“How dare you? You and your father think you can control every eventuality? Were you afraid I was about to show the World what an arrogant, self centred prick your father really is?”

He shook her head, “to the contrary Miss Taylor!" Even his voice was perfect; clear and unaccented, he pronounced every syllable quietly but with authority. "I know father, I have seen what he is like, how he treated you, and despite being related, I cannot defend him. The world saw it too, and everyone knows that what you are thinking is correct. But he is the king of debate, and if you start a verbal fight here, with this audience, unprepared there’s a huge chance he’ll make you look stupid. That is what he is doing, goading you to prove him right. You deserve better than that. And remember that this is your job!”

“How do you know about that?”

He shrugged, “I know that father was meant to be staying somewhere else, a feminist as I recall?" When she nodded he added, "a better match in that she would never have been as polite and accommodating as you were, when they announced a change I looked into things, it seems you were strongly coaxed into doing this!”

She nodded, “you’re not wrong." She mimicked her arm being dragged behind her back and he smiled. For someone with such natural presence, a confidence that bordered on arrogance he had a great smile, broad white and perfectly straight teeth appearing through his full lips. 

"But what he’s saying about me….”

He placed a finger over her lips, “no one knows the manipulative hand of my father as well as me, and I think that you’ve come as close as anyone ever has at holding your own….let me get you a drink? Try and make it up to you in some way?”

Bec couldn't believe her ears and scoffed loudly, “why the hell would you want to offer me a drink? And why the hell would I want accept?” Nathaniel and his father represented everything she'd grown up to hate. Rich, privileged and egotistical with no regard for those they stand on in their quest for everything. Sir Ed had only confirmed those suspicions with his treatment of her. The thought of even a few minutes in the presence of anyone related to him made her feel faint with distress.

“Because I want to prove that not all the Groves family act like he does…”

She raised a hand to ward off any more words from him, “Look I have about as much interest in having a drink with someone like you as I would in chopping off my right hand!”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, shaking his head softly, “and with that comment you are sounding as judgemental and prejudiced as father. I'm not sure what you expect from ‘someone like me’, but I have to say, I'm more than happy to lower oneself to share a pint with you!” She didn't miss the sarcasm, the humour in his words, he was laughing at her AND himself. Rebecca instantly realised that this man was no mug. He had an awareness that his father lacked, and there may be some truth in his words that he was concerned in protecting her from making a fool of herself, as oppose to stopping her taking on his father.

Nathaniel was looking at her intently, and she found herself starting to laugh, “Ok, I’m sorry; I have just had a very fraught time. I didn't think I'd even have to think about anyone or anything related to 'him'.”

He laughed too, soft lines lightening the angles of his face, “Welcome to my world! Now are you going out that door,” he gestured towards the road, “back to that melee, or are you slipping out the back door with me for a relaxing drink?”

She paused for a moment, and then thought what the hell! And followed him out into a different street!