Page 109 of Cover Story

Bel squinted at her handset, wondering what was niggling at her, before a dazed smile settled upon her face. She’d never told Connor Tim’s surname. Either Shilpa had mentioned it and he had a keen memory, or, OR. Connor had been interested enough in her life to do idle research?

She strained to believe it; could he possibly be that curious about her? Then again, he’d proved an instant hit at investigations.

60

Bel waved and watched from the back seat as Connor surrendered a brown duffle bag to the driver, a suit in a cover held by the hanger in his other hand. Bel was quite stomachachey with gratitude.

‘Hello,’ he said, climbing in next to her, ‘mind if I hang this up?’

‘Pass it over,’ Bel said. ‘Room by me.’

‘No trains for Lady Macauley then?’

‘The hotel’s in the middle of nowhere! One of those posh spa and golf places. We’d be on trundlers.’

Connor smiled in an indulgent way.

‘Who do your family think I am?’

‘They have all your real biography except for the part where we’re “early days, having fun, nothing too serious yet” level dating,’ Bel said.

‘Got it. Your mum is Bridget, your brother is Miles and his girlfriend is Yasmin?’

‘Wow. Doing better there than some actual boyfriends I’ve had.’

They started talking shop about the Mayor scoop fallout and Bel was surprised how fast the two-hour journey went.Thecardeposited them on a gravel drive that circled a dribbling fountain feature, in front of a vast edifice of Grade II listed Jacobean grey stone.

Verity was marrying at 4.30 p.m., making the timings civilised.

They bumped into her mother, Miles and his girlfriend straight away, lounging on re-covered Chesterfields in the Great Hall, all sipping Buck’s Fizz.

‘God, you’re not mucking around,’ Bel said, looking at her watch.

‘They were complimentary! Did you want us to throw them back in their faces?!’ Miles said.

She submitted to a hug from the rangy Miles, then Yasmin and her mother.

‘Sorry to say these piss jobs are the Macauleys, Connor.’

‘I recognised the attitude to free alcohol,’ Connor said, shaking hands in turn. ‘Hi I’m Connor, great to meet you.’

Bel had to look away a little, feeling a pressure on her chest that must come from the fact it was a deception. A necessary, small one, but a deception nonetheless.

She’d thought of explaining the backstory of Connor attending, and decided it would achieve nothing other than her family not knowing how to treat him. Her mother quite possibly objecting to use of a decoy in case their hosts found out.

‘You catch up with your family, I’ll do the check-in,’ Connor said, ‘It’s in your name, right?’

Bel nodded as he excused himself.

‘Well I never,’ her mum said, ‘Lovely manners and drop-dead handsome? Hang on to this one, Isabel.’

Bel already knew what her fib about their ‘split’ would be: ‘he hates the north and we couldn’t make the distance work.’

Bel felt cheered by the sight of her family: today wasn’t the easiest, but she had sound loved ones around her.

A porter led them to their room. Much deep pile carpet, the shade of a hamster, frilly pelmet floral curtains over fifteen-foot-high windows, Regency striped sofas facing off across a mahogany coffee table, and a canopied four-poster bed, in a space the size of a tennis court. Sharing a bed was still sharing a bed but Bel felt secret relief that, in this acreage, she and Connor were hardly on top of one another.

‘It’s like Balmoral.Before you call me Paris Hilton, I think they upgraded us,’ Bel said, after the door closed.

---