Page 25 of Broken Beyond Repair
“I found some at the back of the cupboard.”
Beatrice curled her lip. “I believe Mrs Clarkson drinks the insufferable beverage.”
By mid-morning, the backing track of clicking keys and intermittent, frustrated huffs came to a stop. Beatrice had fallen asleep, her head flopped backwards with her hands still at her keyboard. It was a good opportunity to run some errands, and feed Napoleon. If Beatrice didn’t know what time she left, she couldn’t scrutinise her return time.
Sydney scribbled on a Post-it note, then placed it on the table beside Beatrice, allowing her gaze to fall on the sleeping celebrity. She was even more enchanting when she was asleep. People were always more attractive when they weren’t barking orders or clicking their fingers. Which, in Beatrice’s case, meant ‘asleep’. Her face was relaxed, with little trace of the frown she’d been wearing since Sydney met her. Only a few lines on her forehead — the punishing war lines of a serial frowner — were visible.
Sydney shook herself; this wasn’t appropriate. If Beatrice woke to find Sydney drooling over her, she’d sack her on the spot, and quite rightly. She needed to get a grip. The woman was hot, way out of her league, and with Sydney’s luck, guaranteed to be straight.
Before heading into the garage to retrieve the Range Rover, she popped her head around the back to say hello to Gertie. Wedged between the back of the garage and an overgrown hedge she looked dejected.
The trip to Rosie’s was a lot quicker than Sydney expected, helped by an extra 300 horsepower she wasn’t used to. The cat greeted her on her arrival with a show of his rear end. “Careful, Napoleon,” she cautioned, “or someone could think you’re one of those funny towel hooks and stick a tea towel in that.” He mewed at her and herded her towards the kitchen as she typed out a message to his mistress.
I’ve just popped in to feed Napoleon. He says, ‘Meow.’
An immediate response from Rosie took her by surprise. Had she nothing better to do on her honeymoon?
Does this mean you took the job?
Yes, she replied.Started yesterday.
Would you rather I got the neighbour to look after him?
That would be great. Beatrice Russell is an organ grinder! It could be a struggle to get away again. Sorry!
No problem. How is the patient?
A few choice words came to mind, but she refrained from using them. Instead she went for one of Beatrice’s.
Insufferable!
Feed her. Big meals, lots of protein. I’ll send a list over of what to get.
Thanks, make it quick and I can grab some bits on my way back.
A picture of Rosie and Greg at the beach followed.
Looks lush. Enjoy! X
When she finally returned to Highwood, Beatrice was on the phone, speaking to someone in an unusually pleasant tone. Sydney was surprised she had one.
“You weren’t to know I would break my leg. No, I’m absolutely sure. We’ll cope until you return; Sydney is a fantastic cook. I’m going to have her send over a gift. Give me the address.”
Noticing Sydney’s sudden presence in the kitchen, Beatrice clicked her fingers in her direction and made a motion for pen and paper. Sydney passed her a pad of Post-it notes and a pen. The woman snatched them from her as if she had been waiting an eternity for them. She was probably pissed that Sydney had entered the room at the exact moment she’d been gushing over her cooking abilities.
Beatrice stuffed a note into her hand. It readHarrods Baby Gift Hamper (approx. £500)followed by an address.
It was a fun experience to shop for the rich and famous; instead of ordering the price from low to high, as she would for herself, she could play the ‘high to low’ game. She took the opportunity to order something else whilst she was online, something she hoped might make Beatrice slightly more pleasant in the coming days, and not just personality-wise.
Following Beatrice’s call to whom Sydney could only guess was the housekeeper, she was back on the phone again. Unsure whether she should make herself scarce during her calls to afford Beatrice some privacy, she stayed put. The woman was frank enough to make it clear if she wanted her to disappear. No doubt at the sound of clicked fingers.
“I’ve gone through the scripts, and I’m happy to go with your suggestion. It’s a perfect part for me.” Beatrice paused, then pursed her lips. Sydney caught a glimpse of her as her face dropped. “Oh, Ali, tell me you’re pulling my leg? She’s five years younger than me.” Beatrice ran her fingers through her hair and scratched at her head. “Yes, I know, and you know that doesn’t always count for everything. Every wrinkle deducts a year of experience… Okay, well, set it up. Let’s do lunch after. No… Sketch’s décor makes me want to vomit, not eat.”
Sydney listened as Beatrice continued her conversation with ‘Ali’ — whoever she was. The woman threw her head back as she howled with laughter, her large mouth projecting the sound like a megaphone. The relaxed and happy Beatrice was captivating to watch. Her smile lifted her cheeks even higher and created an attractive diamond shape of creases around the lower part of her face that pulled Sydney’s eye to her wide lips.
A pang of jealousy reared its head as she continued to listen—jealousy for such casual conversation with the woman. Sydney had a habit of befriending everyone she worked with, even the most challenging of characters. This time, she knew that would not be the case. She already sensed that Beatrice’s walls were impenetrable. Had she offended her in some way to cause her to treat her differently from everyone else? Why did she even care? She’d be gone in a matter of weeks.
Sydney blew out a breath, unintentionally making enough noise for Beatrice to glare at her from across the room. If that icy stare was supposed to chill her, it wasn’t working. She fanned herself with a notebook to pretend she was suffering from the heat as Beatrice continued her conversation.
