Page 182 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
She slaps my arm. “Not a creep. Come with me.”
Athena drags me through the restaurant, over to a table and my heart stops for a second in my chest because even though she does that I can’t have kids, I think she might’ve forgotten for a moment. So when I see Lottie Hanbury’s toddler climbing the seats, I think I black out for a second.
“I’m really sorry.” Lottie stands up, kisses my cheek. “I know it’s your birthday but Athena said you really wanted to meet her and I couldn’t get childcare.”
“I offered to get a nanny,” Charlie tells me.
She cuts him a look. “I don’t need someone else doing my job.”
He smiles, touches her arm. “Don’t worry, no one can swipe my card like you.” And then he nods his chin at me. “Happy birthday, girl. Your present is in the pile.”
I nod, lean over the table to kiss his cheek.
Lottie gives him a dirty look, turns back to me. “I really hope you don’t mind. She’s well restaurant trained—but if you don’t want her to be here, it’s literally fine, I get it.”
“No, no,” I shake my head, staring at the little blonde girl. “She’s okay—more the merrier!”
“Margot!” Lottie whips round, grabbing her child from tumbling over the back of the seats.
“She’s quite darling, isn’t she?” I reach over, my hand stills for a second. What do I do? Pet her like a fucking dog? I doubt her council estate drug dealer turned footballer hotshot father would appreciate that. I ruffle her hair. She smiles, giggles, claps.
“She does talk,” Lottie laughs nervously. “She just gets shy.”
“I don’t doubt that you haven’t done a good job, Lottie. You had a kid when you were still a kid yourself. Not many women can do that.”
Her chin wobbles, she smiles up at me, thankful because I don’t think that many people have said that to her before.
“She’s getting fat,” George butts in, walking over.
“She ain’t getting fucking fat!” Charlie gives him a look. “You’re getting fucking fat, you fat fucking pig.”
“Pipe down,” Lottie tentatively touches his arm—casts me a quick look—“We’re not in the slums of East London now, darling.”
I clear my throat. “Is Daisy around here?”
“Nah,” Charlie shakes his head, takes a sip of his drink. “She didn’t want to come.”
“Oh, right,” I mutter, nod.
He waves his hand through the air with a frown. “Not like, anything personal, yeah? She just don’t like coming to things like this. Don’t do well with big groups.”
His cockney accent is so strong I struggle to understand him. I nod anyway. “Shame. I haven’t had the chance to catch up with her since she visited the store.”
He angles his tumbler my way. “She appreciated that big time, by the way. Done me a solid with that, Phoebs. I owe you one, mate.”
I cast a sly look over to George who covers his smile behind his hand. George nods his head over at me so I excuse myself and go over to him.
“Digby’s here,” he tells me.
I frown. “Sorry? I thought you said Digby was here?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “That is what I said.”
“Why?” I throw my arms up. “Why is he here? I told you I didn’t want him here!”
“I ain’t the fucking owner of London, Phoebs. He had an invite so he came? What did you want me to do?”
“I don’t know—maybe—you could’ve…I don’t know!”
