a few questions anywhere around the West End would mean that Jurgen certainly would know where Nick lived. Hell, Lucia might even ask Clara and that would be a disaster. They might have already been to his flat. Nick had been hoping to avoid the German; he’d have woken up with a hell of a headache and a bad temper. Lucia, though, Nick kind of wanted to see her again. He stuffed the empty chip papers in a bin and wiped his hands on his coat. His flat would be under surveillance by now. If he went home he’d draw them out, but he still wasn’t sure what they wanted and he’d rather meet them on his own terms, when he was ready, if it came to that. He should warn Clara. He looked at his watch and had an idea. A florist stall still stood open by Goodge Street Station. He wandered over.
“Could you do me a favour?” he asked.
The man eyed him suspiciously. “I sell flowers, guv, nothing else.”
“It’s flowers I want. I just wonder if you could get someone to deliver them to an address round the corner. I’ll make it worth your while.”
The man shrugged and nodded at the lad he had helping him. “Suppose so. He can take ’em for you.”
“Good.” Nick picked out some flowers and as the man wrapped them, he composed a quick note.
Dearest Clara,
I am so sorry about last night and this morning. I know I have behaved badly. I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused at the club, but I can explain. For now, all I can tell you is that I am in some trouble and that it would be best if you didn’t come to my flat. Should anyone trouble you, say that you don’t know where I have gone. I want you to meet me at The Savoy. A break will do us good, darling, and keep you safe. Don’t say anything to Lucia, and don’t trust her. Please, trust me. I love you always and I don’t want any harm to befall you. I will be in touch.
Be safe.
All my love,
Nick
He handed over some coins and with a heavy heart and even heavier sense of foreboding, watched the boy walk off. Clara wouldn’t take this well, but he couldn’t risk her getting involved. She had to be protected from this. Apart from Stephen, she was the only constant in his world, the only person he could almost open up to. He shook his head. He had to get himself out of this mess. He couldn’t even risk going home. This way he could try to repair some of the damage with Clara, plan their future and buy some time to think.
CHAPTER 8
“Just what are you mixed up in, darling? Nothing good if you can suddenly afford to put us in here.” Clara swept a hand around the sumptuous suite. She plunged on before Nick could answer. “How many times? I’m not with you for your money.” She smiled and stepped over to him, draping a hand over his shoulder, close enough that he could inhale the sweet floral scent of her perfume. “I’m with you because you’re you, and I love you.”
“I know. Still, I like to look after you. Consider this a treat. I can afford it, for once. With what happened to Ramona, I’d feel happier knowing your were safe here.” He pulled her close, his hand in the small of her back. “Besides, what woman wouldn’t like a night at the best hotel on earth?”
“Or a night with you at the best hotel on earth.”
They kissed. A long, lingering kiss, that went on and on before Clara gently pulled away. She crossed to the walnut desk where a champagne bucket stood perspiring. The wireless set beside the bed crackled out slow swing in gentle tones, some orchestra session on the BBC. Clara poured two crystal flutes and passed one to Nick, perching herself elegantly on the end of the bed.
“We should do this more often,” Nick
“Could you do me a favour?” he asked.
The man eyed him suspiciously. “I sell flowers, guv, nothing else.”
“It’s flowers I want. I just wonder if you could get someone to deliver them to an address round the corner. I’ll make it worth your while.”
The man shrugged and nodded at the lad he had helping him. “Suppose so. He can take ’em for you.”
“Good.” Nick picked out some flowers and as the man wrapped them, he composed a quick note.
Dearest Clara,
I am so sorry about last night and this morning. I know I have behaved badly. I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused at the club, but I can explain. For now, all I can tell you is that I am in some trouble and that it would be best if you didn’t come to my flat. Should anyone trouble you, say that you don’t know where I have gone. I want you to meet me at The Savoy. A break will do us good, darling, and keep you safe. Don’t say anything to Lucia, and don’t trust her. Please, trust me. I love you always and I don’t want any harm to befall you. I will be in touch.
Be safe.
All my love,
Nick
He handed over some coins and with a heavy heart and even heavier sense of foreboding, watched the boy walk off. Clara wouldn’t take this well, but he couldn’t risk her getting involved. She had to be protected from this. Apart from Stephen, she was the only constant in his world, the only person he could almost open up to. He shook his head. He had to get himself out of this mess. He couldn’t even risk going home. This way he could try to repair some of the damage with Clara, plan their future and buy some time to think.
CHAPTER 8
“Just what are you mixed up in, darling? Nothing good if you can suddenly afford to put us in here.” Clara swept a hand around the sumptuous suite. She plunged on before Nick could answer. “How many times? I’m not with you for your money.” She smiled and stepped over to him, draping a hand over his shoulder, close enough that he could inhale the sweet floral scent of her perfume. “I’m with you because you’re you, and I love you.”
“I know. Still, I like to look after you. Consider this a treat. I can afford it, for once. With what happened to Ramona, I’d feel happier knowing your were safe here.” He pulled her close, his hand in the small of her back. “Besides, what woman wouldn’t like a night at the best hotel on earth?”
“Or a night with you at the best hotel on earth.”
They kissed. A long, lingering kiss, that went on and on before Clara gently pulled away. She crossed to the walnut desk where a champagne bucket stood perspiring. The wireless set beside the bed crackled out slow swing in gentle tones, some orchestra session on the BBC. Clara poured two crystal flutes and passed one to Nick, perching herself elegantly on the end of the bed.
“We should do this more often,” Nick
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