Page 38 of Save Me

“Ruby!” Mum calls.

As I go downstairs, I tell myself sternly to keep calm. There’sno reason to be worked up. This is just a school trip—Lin and I have done this kind of stuff loads of times, and it won’t be any different with James.

I take a deep breath at the last few steps. Mum’s opened the door, and as I reach the hall, I see her chatting to a man. I gape.

One: James wasn’t lying. He really does have a chauffeur. A uniformed chauffeur at that, with a peaked cap and the whole works. Two: The chauffeur looks like Antonio Banderas. He’s tanned, has deep brown eyes, and an expressive, almost sensual mouth. He looks to be in his mid-forties, and he’s drop-dead gorgeous. Judging by Mum’s pink cheeks, she’s of the same opinion.

“Good morning, miss,” says the Zorro-chauffeur, raising his cap in greeting.

“Good morning…”

“Percy,” Mum helps me out, with a beaming smile.

“…Percy.” I smile too and take my jacket from the coat hook. “OK, Mum, see you later.”

“Have fun, love. And take lots of photos for us.” Mum gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I follow Percy through the door. The next moment, as if by magic, he’s opened a huge black umbrella over my head.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Not at all. The car is just over here.”

I look where he’s pointing, and I’m almost rooted to the spot in astonishment. There’s a Rolls-Royce in the street outside our house. It’s gleaming black, and, even to me, it looks enormous among the rest of the parked cars, like an alien, and I’m used to seeing limos and whatever swish cars these days.

Percy opens the rear door and holds the umbrella over me until I’ve got in. I thank him, and he nods, then shuts the door behindme. Barely thirty seconds later, the car starts. Nervously, I smooth out my skirt and check it didn’t ride up as I sat down.

Only then can I look at James.

He’s sitting there, facing me, an unreadable expression on his face. He looks as though even he doesn’t know what to think about the fact that I just got into his car. He’s wearing a dark gray suit, shot through with fine threads, a white shirt, and a dark silk tie with a pin. He has a glass in his hand, which I hope only contains apple juice, and I notice a silver signet ring on his left hand that I’ve never seen before. There’s a coat of arms on it, presumably his family’s crest.

The longer I look at him, the more underdressed I feel in my bodged-together vintage outfit. Everything about James screams money, from the top of his head to his gleaming leather shoes. I try not to let it faze me—after all, I knew what I was getting myself into.

When I look again, I see how tired James seems. His turquoise eyes are bloodshot, and there are bags under them.

“Morning,” he says eventually, his voice hoarse.

Maybe he only just woke up. Or partied the night away and hasn’t been to bed at all.

“Morning,” I reply. “Thanks for the lift.”

He doesn’t answer but looks me over, like I just did to him, so I stare around the car. There are rows of leather seats, and opposite James there’s a bar with glasses and some kind of cupboard or fridge behind a door. There’s a dark screen separating us from the driver.

The silence between us is getting unpleasant, so I nod toward Percy: “Your chauffeur could be a Hollywood star. I guess he’s in his forties, but he’s still one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen.”

“You flatter me, miss, I’m fifty-two.” Percy’s voice comes through a speaker in the ceiling.

Embarrassed, I glance at James. He’s grinning from ear to ear. My cheeks are burning up.

“If you’re going to say things like that, it’s a good idea to switch off the intercom, Ruby Bell,” James informs me. He’s pointing to a flashing red light.

“Oh.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir,” Percy says, and a second later, it’s gone.

I bury my face in my hands and shake my head. “In films, the screen just goes up. How am I meant to know you have to press a button too?”

“Don’t worry. Percy rarely gets compliments like that from me, so I’m sure he’s thrilled.”

I shake my head. “I think I’ll have to get out.”

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