suggestion, for Maddox’s ego wasn’t that big – as it sounded like somewhere you knew about, somewhere you had to be. It wasn’t a large hotel, only twenty-four bedrooms, but the restaurant and bar were deliberately designed to attract non-residents. They also enabled Maddox to indulge two of his other great passions, art and wine: the rooms were hung with the hundreds and hundreds of paintings he had accrued, some great, some insignificant, and the cellars were spoken of in hallowed tones.
Once it was open, Honor ran the hotel like clockwork, and found she was never bored, because Maddox was constantly coming up with crazy and innovative ideas to attract new custom – screenwriting courses, jazz weekends, a ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ programme. With the money she’d saved by living in staff accommodation over the past five years, and Maddox’s generous salary, she bought herself a garden flat in Bath. It was only tiny, because property prices in Bath were steep, but she was delighted at long last to have somewhere she could call her own home. And she soon had her own network of friends. She was thoroughly content. Over the next two years she had a series of semi-casual relationships and no lack of admirers, but she met no one she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. She enjoyed her own companytoo much; she liked to go home in the evening and eat exactly what she wanted without having to consult another person, watch what she wanted on television without a running commentary, go to bed at nine o’clock at night or two o’clock in the morning without considering someone else. It wasn’t that she was selfish. She would happily sacrifice her independence if the right person came along. Only they hadn’t yet…
The day after her skirmish with Johnny Flynn, she came in at nine to find he had already flown the coop.
‘I got him a cab at about half six,’ the receptionist told her. ‘He looked pretty green.’
Honor felt a fleeting moment of regret. She’d been secretly looking forward to teasing him in the cold light of day, to see his reaction to her once the booze had worn off. Would he still be steeped in that warm Irish charm; suffused with irresistible affection and naughtiness? Or would he be cold, upright and sensible? Somehow, she thought not.
‘Where was his taxi to?’
‘Somewhere near Bradford-on-Avon, I think.’
Honor wondered if he lived there, or if he was staying with friends. Then she gave herself a shake. What was she thinking of, wasting time over a customer? She had work to do.
Two hours later, a magnificent bunch of yellow roses appeared in her office. Behind them a pale but ebullient Johnny, a rueful expression on his face.
‘All I can remember from last night is you. I can’tremember what I said, but I hope it wasn’t too filthy. It probably was, because even now I’m thinking what I might like to do to you. So I’ve come to pay for my room, and apologize, and say thank you. And ask you out for dinner.’
Honor was disarmed, charmed and intrigued. He took her bemused smile as an assent.
‘Do you want small and intimate or loud and buzzy?’ he asked.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Hole in the Wall. But you’ll never get a table.’
‘I will.’ Johnny looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘I’m very good at getting what I want.’
It was such a cheesy line, Honor should have backed out of the date there and then. But somehow from him it didn’t seem corny. Just horny. Those topaz eyes were burning right through her; she felt herself set alight inside, just as a magnifying glass sets light to a scrap of paper, suddenly and unexpectedly.
The table was duly booked for eight o’clock that evening. Honor, normally unexcitable, had tried on every single outfit in her wardrobe that afternoon, and finally fled into Bath at four o’clock to buy something new. She was usually confident in whatever she chose to wear, but nothing had seemed quite right. She wanted
Once it was open, Honor ran the hotel like clockwork, and found she was never bored, because Maddox was constantly coming up with crazy and innovative ideas to attract new custom – screenwriting courses, jazz weekends, a ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ programme. With the money she’d saved by living in staff accommodation over the past five years, and Maddox’s generous salary, she bought herself a garden flat in Bath. It was only tiny, because property prices in Bath were steep, but she was delighted at long last to have somewhere she could call her own home. And she soon had her own network of friends. She was thoroughly content. Over the next two years she had a series of semi-casual relationships and no lack of admirers, but she met no one she could imagine spending the rest of her life with. She enjoyed her own companytoo much; she liked to go home in the evening and eat exactly what she wanted without having to consult another person, watch what she wanted on television without a running commentary, go to bed at nine o’clock at night or two o’clock in the morning without considering someone else. It wasn’t that she was selfish. She would happily sacrifice her independence if the right person came along. Only they hadn’t yet…
The day after her skirmish with Johnny Flynn, she came in at nine to find he had already flown the coop.
‘I got him a cab at about half six,’ the receptionist told her. ‘He looked pretty green.’
Honor felt a fleeting moment of regret. She’d been secretly looking forward to teasing him in the cold light of day, to see his reaction to her once the booze had worn off. Would he still be steeped in that warm Irish charm; suffused with irresistible affection and naughtiness? Or would he be cold, upright and sensible? Somehow, she thought not.
‘Where was his taxi to?’
‘Somewhere near Bradford-on-Avon, I think.’
Honor wondered if he lived there, or if he was staying with friends. Then she gave herself a shake. What was she thinking of, wasting time over a customer? She had work to do.
Two hours later, a magnificent bunch of yellow roses appeared in her office. Behind them a pale but ebullient Johnny, a rueful expression on his face.
‘All I can remember from last night is you. I can’tremember what I said, but I hope it wasn’t too filthy. It probably was, because even now I’m thinking what I might like to do to you. So I’ve come to pay for my room, and apologize, and say thank you. And ask you out for dinner.’
Honor was disarmed, charmed and intrigued. He took her bemused smile as an assent.
‘Do you want small and intimate or loud and buzzy?’ he asked.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Hole in the Wall. But you’ll never get a table.’
‘I will.’ Johnny looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘I’m very good at getting what I want.’
It was such a cheesy line, Honor should have backed out of the date there and then. But somehow from him it didn’t seem corny. Just horny. Those topaz eyes were burning right through her; she felt herself set alight inside, just as a magnifying glass sets light to a scrap of paper, suddenly and unexpectedly.
The table was duly booked for eight o’clock that evening. Honor, normally unexcitable, had tried on every single outfit in her wardrobe that afternoon, and finally fled into Bath at four o’clock to buy something new. She was usually confident in whatever she chose to wear, but nothing had seemed quite right. She wanted
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