Minding Amy (18 page)

She glanced at the clock. She had heaps of time. In fact, she realized she could get everything done then go over to his place, which would save time. And that meant she'd get to see him even sooner than planned. She grabbed her phone, scrolled down to his name in the directory and hit the call button.

As the phone began to ring out, she found herself wondering vaguely what he might be doing. She hoped she wasn't interrupting anything. He'd mentioned he had to check in at his workplace. Probably had to let the security firm know how things were going with his current placement.

"Good afternoon, City Investigation and Security Services, this is Stella speaking. How may I help you?"

"Oh, hello," Amy stuttered, confused.
Stella?
"I think I must have the wrong number, I'm looking for Sebastian, Sebastian Armitage."

"Yes, you've come through on his private phone. He's leading a staff meeting at the moment so he left it with me. I'm his secretary. Perhaps I can take a message for you?"

Amy couldn't quite hear, or at least that's what it felt like. She certainly couldn't make sense of what was being said. It was as if there was a gap in her brain somewhere, and the messages she was receiving weren't quite reaching their destination. "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you. What did you say when you answered the phone?"

"This is The City Investigation and Security Service, you have come through to company headquarters."

Investigation
? That didn't sound like the security firm she was expecting. Amy swallowed, hard. "Private investigation?"

"Yes, that is correct."

Her heart started to thud loudly against the wall of her chest. "And you said… he's leading a staff meeting?" That made it doubly bad. He was quite obviously a senior member of personnel in a private investigation company. Sebastian wasn't a bodyguard at all.

"Yes, he is." The secretary at the other end of the phone started to sound a bit unsure about the way the conversation was going. Not as unsure as Amy was feeling, however. Her mind was racing with questions. Had her father contracted a private investigator to guide her, without her knowledge or her consent? And had Sebastian sweet-talked his way into her bed, to distract her from the fact everybody thought she was incapable of doing an investigation for herself? Her blood had started to surge, anger building inside her. She recalled the meeting in her father's office, and the fact they'd discussed it all the previous day. And now, as she thought back on it, hadn't there been a conspiratorial friendliness between the two men?

The secretary's voice broke into the silence. "Can I take that message for you? Mr. Armitage will be out of the meeting in about an hour, if that's any help."

Oh yes, she wanted to leave a message for him all right. Nobody duped Amy Norton and got away with it. "Yes, thank you."

Amy was already on her feet, but it was in her father's direction she intended to go. "Could you please tell Mr. Armitage that Amy Norton called, and that..." What? She took a deep breath, battling the conflicting emotions that rose inside. "Tell him I will be ensuring Mr. Norton ends his
investigation
contract, forthwith."

"Okay."

"You'll pass it on?"

"Yes, of course, but can I take a number where Mr. Armitage can get back to you?"

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary." As she put her phone down she flicked it off, in case he rang back. She would deal with him later. Her other hand was lifting the receiver on the desk. She punched in her Father's extension number.

"Richard Norton's—"

"Hi Alison, this is Amy, is my father there? I need to speak with him, urgently."

"Hello Amy, no, he's out today."

"Out where?"

"Well, he was away at a news convention over the weekend so he's taking a day in lieu and he's at home today. Mrs. Norton insisted, apparently."

"Right, thank you."

Good, if he was at home at least she could pin him down without interruptions. She put the phone down and grabbed her bag.

"Hey."

"Sorry, Janine." They had collided as Amy headed to the doorway.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"The homestead. Oh," Amy groaned loudly. "You won't believe what's happened now."

Janine let the door swing shut behind her. "Try me."

She dumped a take out coffee and a sandwich bag on the desk.

"My father only went and hired a PI to work with me on the Quentin Edward's feature."

Janine frowned. "You mean to tell me the hunk is a PI?" Her mouth was open, her expression incredulous.

"Yes, can you believe it? And the two of them obviously conspired to keep me in the dark about it." Relating the discovery wasn't helping to calm her down any.

"But you like the man?"

Amy stared at her, frowning. "What has that got to do with it?"

"Well, if you like the guy and he's a real PI, that's kind of exciting, isn't it?" Janine's eyes were bright with interest.

"Janine, are you deliberately missing the point here? My father and this, PI, have duped me. I feel humiliated. Bloody hell, I'm livid."

"Okay." Janine looked unconvinced. "But if you're enjoying your fling with him, why don't you just pretend you don't know?"

"Janine!" Amy shook her head and gave a wry laugh. Janine was pretty far out there when it came to relationships. "Listen, I've emailed you some copy on the upcoming TV soap awards. I'll be back later. If you need me before this afternoon I'll be at my parent's house. Apparently Dad's at home today. I'm going over there to give him a piece of my mind." She walked to the door, still shaking her head at her boss.

"Think about what I said," Janine called after her, winking. "Good men are hard to find."

Indeed they are, she thought to herself, grimly. And right now she wasn't counting Sebastian as one of the good guys.

* * * *

The phone rang out insistently and Janine put down her sandwich and reached for it.

"Hello, Janine Fairfax speaking, how can I help you?"

"Hello, Ms. Fairfax, my name is Sebastian Armitage, I've been working with Amy Norton and—"

"Ah, the minder who isn't really a minder." She dusted the sandwich crumbs off her desk and into the waste paper basket.

"Well, yes and no."

She could hear the tension in his voice. Poor guy, she was tempted to give him a hard time but Amy had probably already seen to it, and—in Janine's opinion—she was doing herself a major disservice into the bargain. The bloke had tenacity, and Janine always felt a man should be rewarded for such engaging qualities.

"I really need to speak to Amy and she's switched off her phone, is she there?"

"No, I'm afraid she's already gone."

"Are you in a position to tell me where she is, so I can try to catch her?"

"Not really, but…you could try convincing me."

"You'll hear me out?" The smattering of hope in his tone made her smile. He was very keen. And she could tell Amy was more than interested in him, otherwise she wouldn't have been so upset. She'd looked so happy over the last couple of days. Janine had never seen her look quite as content before.

"Go ahead. I'm all ears." She rested back in her chair and reached for her coffee, fully prepared to give the man a fair hearing. Amy would calm down soon enough and hopefully she would see sense. In the meantime, she could maybe ease the way for Mr. PI here, not to mention getting the inside story herself. That sort of first hand entertainment was always welcome. In fact it was a pity she couldn't share it with the Women's Page readers, she thought, as Sebastian's story unfolded. It was the sort of feature they'd love to bits.

* * * *

The tube train journey out to Harrow on the Hill seemed to take forever. Normally Amy would have enjoyed the journey, watching the ebb and flow of people passing through the train, the never-ending variety of humanity bustling through the capital in the summertime. This time she barely noticed the other people, and counted each stop impatiently. By the time the train reached Finchley Road, she'd steadied herself enough to think straight. The revelation had explained a lot about Sebastian's reluctance to speak about his work. It also shed new light on his attitude and his line of thinking when he talked about the assignment with her. All that prompting and suggesting he had done in Arundel, she cringed as she thought back over it.

He must have thought her an absolute idiot. Mr. Big Shot Private Investigator, nannying the silly journalist on her great adventure. She rested her head in her hands, wondering why she couldn't just wish it all away. Her father had misled her. More than that, he'd duped her entirely. Why did he do it? He obviously had no faith in her as a journalist. That hurt.

As for Sebastian…she had to face up to it, seducing her might have been part of his cover. Even if it wasn't, it was a shoddy thing to do.

When the tube train finally pulled in and she emerged into Harrow on the Hill, Amy had gone from angry to mortally wounded. Grim determination had lodged inside her. She would simply have to point out his gross error of judgment to her father and end the charade. By the time she got into the taxi for the last stage of the journey, she had vowed never to trust her father again. Indeed, she realized, all men had become entirely untrustworthy in her eyes.

She looked up at her parent's house as she climbed out of the taxi. Ever since she’d moved out the two of them rattled around in it, but her mother treated the large, detached house as her castle and planned to see her days out there. Who could blame her, it was in a beautiful spot, a green wooded retreat, and yet it was just over twelve miles from the heart of the city. Amy had moved out when she'd gone to college, but it was still home and coming back to visit felt good, even if today she was visiting under a cloud of discontent.

"Amy, oh how lovely to see you." her mother exclaimed, as she opened the front door. "Now, why didn't you call and say you were coming over?" She threw the kitchen towel she was drying her hands on over her shoulder and lifted her glasses to perch them on top of her stacked hair. She peered at her daughter. "Are you sick, dear? You look flushed."

"I'm not sick." She didn't want to worry her. If she could keep her out of it she would. "I'm just a bit upset. Work stuff. Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming, it was a bit of a snap decision—is Dad around?" She looked over her mother's shoulder and into the house, while she hugged her.

"He got back from the golf club about five minutes ago. Can you stay for some lunch?"

Amy didn't think she could eat anything at all, but she gave her mother a weak smile.

"I'm putting a Spanish tortilla together. It's such a treat having your father at home for lunch midweek. It gives me an excuse to cook."

The familiar ambience of home soothed Amy a mite. When she caught sight of her father standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand, a moment later, the warm feeling quickly evaporated.

He was wearing a short-sleeved casual shirt and his golfing trousers and looked a whole lot more comfortable than when he was suited and formal, at work. He put the mug down, his expression brightening when he saw her.

"Hey Trixiegirl, how's tricks?"

It rattled her more than ever that he spoke to her as he had when she was a little girl. "Can't you treat me as if I'm an adult, please, for once?"

She glared at him.

"Sorry, I forget you don't like to be called Trixie any more." He looked at her, as if realizing something was amiss. "Problem?"

"Yes, problem." She dropped her bag on one of the breakfast bar stools then perched on another. Her mother had gone back to her cooking but was watching them as she went about her work, curiosity in her expression.

"The Quentin Edwards job…you told me the deal was I had to have a bodyguard with me."

He glanced away, suddenly shifty.

"Ah, I can see that you know what I came about."

"Bodyguard?" her mother exclaimed. "What on earth were you doing that you needed a bodyguard?"

"Exactly." Amy declared. "I didn't need one, and not only did Dad make me feel incapable of protecting myself on a simple investigation, but by being underhand and hiring a private investigator—without my permission, I hasten to add—he's shown that he thinks I'm incapable of doing investigative work at all, without the prompting of a…a professional."