Holiday With The Best Man. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ But it shouldn’t be Roland’s bill. OK. Right now she didn’t have time for a discussion. She’d sort it out with him later.

      She’d just left the plumber when a restoration specialist turned up and introduced himself. He took photographs of everything, and asked her to hold a metal ruler against the wall to show the depth of the water. ‘For the insurance,’ he explained. And then he brought a machine from his van to start sucking up the water.

      ‘I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me,’ Grace said to Roland. ‘Just one more thing—do you happen to know the number of a good lock-up place as well?’

      He shrugged. ‘There’s no need. You can store your things at my place.’

      She blinked. ‘But you don’t know me. You only met me once before today. For all you know, I could be a thief or a fraudster.’

      He shrugged again. ‘You’re my best friend’s sister-in-law—that’s good enough for me.’ He paused. ‘You really can’t stay at the flat until it’s dried out properly.’

      ‘I know.’ She grimaced. ‘Hopefully I can persuade one of my friends to let me crash on their floor tonight, then I’ll find a hotel or something to put me up until the flat’s usable again.’

      * * *

      It was a sensible enough plan, and if Roland agreed with her he wouldn’t have to get involved.

      But something in her expression made him say, ‘I have a spare room.’

      She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’ve already imposed on you far too much.’

      ‘It’s getting late,’ he said, ‘plus your stuff’s all in the back of your car, my car, and the van. You can’t do anything else here until the landlord calls you back and the insurance assessors turn up—which won’t be until at least tomorrow. And you said yourself that none of your friends have the room to put you up, let alone store your stuff as well. So come and stay with me.’

      ‘That’s—that’s really kind of you.’

      He could see her blinking back the tears and lifted his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. ‘Don’t cry. Please.’ He didn’t cope well with tears. He never had. Which had been half the problem in that last year with Lynette. He’d backed away when he shouldn’t have done. And she’d paid the ultimate price.

      Grace swallowed back the threatening tears and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘OK. No more tears, I promise. But thank you. I owe you.’

       CHAPTER TWO

      ONCE THE RESTORATION man had finished getting rid of the worst of the water and Grace had locked the flat, she programmed Roland’s address into her satnav in case she got stuck in traffic and lost both him and the van on the way, then followed him back to his house—which turned out to be in a swish part of Docklands. Once she’d parked behind his car, outside what looked like a development of an old maltings, Roland and the van driver helped her transfer her things from their cars and the van to his garage.

      ‘Everything will be safe here for tonight,’ he said when they’d finished.

      ‘And dry,’ Grace added. ‘Thank you.’

      There was a row of shops on the ground floor of the building, and Grace assumed that Roland had a flat on one of the upper floors; to her surprise, she discovered that his house was at one end of the building. And when he showed her into the townhouse itself, she saw that the entire back of the house was a glass box extension. It was incredibly modern, but at the same time it didn’t feel out of place—and the views over the river were utterly amazing.

      ‘This place is incredible,’ she said.

      He looked pleased. ‘I like it.’

      ‘But—’ she gestured to the floor-to-ceiling windows ‘—no curtains? Don’t you worry about people peering in?’

      ‘I have a little bit of trickery instead. It’s much cleaner, design-wise. And I loathe frills and flounces—my idea of hell is those swags of fussy fabrics.’

      And those were just the kind of thing Grace had in mind for her own dream home—a pretty little Victorian terraced house, with sprigged flowery wallpaper and curtains to match, and lots of cushions in cosy armchairs.

      He flicked a switch and the glass became opaque, giving them complete privacy.

      ‘Very clever,’ she said. And although she would’ve preferred the kind of curtains he hated, she could understand what he liked about it. ‘Did you have an architect design this for you?’

      ‘That,’ Roland said, ‘would be me.’

      Grace stared at him in surprise. ‘You’re an architect?’

      He nodded. ‘I designed Hugh and Tarquin’s offices,’ he said, ‘and I had a hand in remodelling Hugh’s place so it’s soundproof—for the sake of his neighbours, if he gets up in the middle of the night and starts composing on the piano.’

      ‘This is amazing.’ She shook her head. ‘What an idiot I am. I thought you were some sort of builder, given that you had a plumber and a van.’

      He smiled. ‘You weren’t that far off. I’m in the building trade, and I was pretty hands-on with this place. I guess this was my prototype.’

      ‘How do you mean, prototype?’ she asked, not understanding.

      ‘My company makes eco-prefab buildings—either extensions or even the whole house. They’re all made off site, and they can be put up in a matter of days.’

      ‘You mean, like the ones you see on TV documentaries about people building their own houses or restoring old industrial buildings and turning them into homes?’ she asked.

      ‘They’ve been featured on that sort of programme, yes,’ he said.

      ‘That’s seriously impressive.’

      He inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘I enjoy it. Let me show you to the guest room.’

      Like the rest of the rooms she’d seen so far, the bedroom was very modern, simply furnished and with little on the walls. But, with one wall being pure glass, she supposed you wouldn’t need anything else to look at: not when you had a whole panorama of London life to look at. Water and people and lights and the sky.

      There was a king-sized bed with the headboard set in the middle of the back wall, a soft duvet and fluffy pillows. The bed linen was all white—very high maintenance, she thought. The en-suite bathroom was gorgeous, and was about six times the size of the bathroom in Bella’s flat; Grace still wasn’t quite used to thinking of Bella’s old place as her own flat.

      She took the bare minimum from her case—it seemed pointless to unpack everything just for one night, when tomorrow she’d be moving to a hotel or whatever alternative accommodation the insurance company offered—and hung her office clothes for the next day in the wardrobe so they wouldn’t be creased overnight. Just as she was about to go back downstairs СКАЧАТЬ