Never Too Late (7 page)

“You know I would if I could but I can’t let Chloe down, you know I can’t,” he pleaded.

“Oh, her,” Natasha’s voice was suddenly icy. She’d had as much as she could take of his ‘Princess’. “When are you going to realise she’s a grown woman now and doesn’t need her Daddy any more?”

“Ah but she does,” Iain said. “She doesn’t have a partner to look out for her and it’s a dangerous world now.” He took a slug of the whisky and continued. “Look, I’ll make it up to you. I have to go to Northamptonshire this Friday, but my work will only take a couple of hours max. How about we both spend all weekend there – just the two of us, no interruptions. What do you say?”

Natasha considered it while admiring herself in the huge mirror above her fireplace. “OK,” she finally conceded. “But only if you promise to turn your mobile off.”

That was a tough one. Iain felt naked without his mobile. His whole life revolved around being in constant communication with his workforce and contacts. His breathing quickened as he imagined what Natasha might be wearing at this moment. He felt himself harden, pushing hungrily against his trousers. If that was the price he had to pay, he most certainly wanted what it would buy him “You drive a hard bargain my love,” he complained. “But I agree your terms.”

Natasha smiled at her reflection. “You know I’m worth it.”

“Oh, I do. I’ll finalise arrangements with you tomorrow.” He ended the call and checked his watch. He’d have to get a move on if he wasn’t to be too late. He didn’t want Chloe cross with him as well as Natasha.

He headed over to the office’s adjoining shower and changing room to get ready for the main woman in his life, chuckling as he realised he still had difficulty in thinking of her as a woman.

She’ll be my little girl till the day I die. God help any man who didn’t realise how precious she is!

The powerful jets of water massaged and soothed him as he turned slowly under them, then drew an involuntary gasp as a quick flick of the control turned the jets to an icy stream, invigorating him to the core. Ten minutes later he was dressed and ready to go, proof yet again of what a wise investment the shower room had been.

*

“Isn’t that rather distinguished looking hunk of a man your father, Chloe?” Nicci asked her, looking past Chloe to the lobby where Iain was handing in his coat. At 6’2” and still athletically built, courtesy of hard work, squash three times a week and rowing when he could fit it in, he was indeed a fine figure of a man. He had a presence, an electric energy about him, and more than one female head had turned his way.

Chloe turned from where she was standing at the table of four of her friends and her smile was radiant. “It is indeed. If he weren’t my father I’d marry him,” she quipped. “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, OK?”

She fairly danced down the steps to Iain and gave him a big hug and kiss. “Thank you, Daddy; I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Never in a million years, Princess,” he assured her, returning the hug.

She took his arm and they went towards the back of the restaurant to their favourite table.

Iain waved aside the hovering waiter and personally assisted Chloe to her chair. “You look exquisite, love,” he complimented her.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, her dimple appearing with her smile. “And you’re wearing my favourite Givenchy cologne,” she approved, “the one that always reminds me of that wonderful holiday we had in Bavaria.”

“Weren’t those mountains and forests something else,” he reminisced, sitting opposite her.

“If you ever get round to having another holiday don’t forget to check dates with me first, Daddy, and I’ll come too.”

He leaned back in his chair as he accepted the menu, and glanced towards the table where Chloe had stood when he arrived. “I thought all your friends were otherwise engaged tonight?” he queried, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh they are,” Chloe confirmed with a mischievous glint. “Look – two couples, a fifth body would ruin the vibes.”

“Have you been playing matchmaker again?” Iain asked, well used to the way she loved to arrange people’s lives for them if she thought they were making a hash of it themselves.

She giggled and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Not matchmaking, just allowing two lonely people, who have met before I might add, to overcome their shyness.” She nodded towards them slightly. “You know Nicci already, well she’s been seeing Paul for a while now, but the brunette – that’s Susanne – she works with Nicci and me and you should see her face when Adrian walks through. What could I do? I couldn’t let them keep suffering for lack of a little helping hand in arranging for them to be in the same place at the same time with the chance to get to know each other now could I?”

Iain shook his head, his lips twitching. “Do you ever stop for breath when you talk?” he asked, mock seriously.

Chloe slapped his hand and turned her attention to the menu.

Twenty minutes later Iain finished his Bruschetta, topped as he liked it with just the right amount of basil to enhance, not swamp, the flavour of the tomato. Chloe had nearly finished her M’Pepatella di Cosse. He dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin and admired the delicate way she handled the peppery mussels. His daughter had real class and he was, as always, proud to be seen out with her.

She looked up at him from under her lashes as she squeezed a little more lemon over the last few. Why did he have this feeling she was after something more than just company? He could bide his time though – let her make the running. Let’s see what kind of negotiating skills she was learning at that big corporate public relations firm, he thought to himself. God, the money businesses spent on their spin doctors these days, he thought. He’d stand or fall on the name he made for himself thank you very much!

The conversation continued on a very inconsequential theme until they were both well into the Pollo alla Cacciatora they had both opted for. When Chloe put down her fork and picked up her glass of Chianti Classico d’Annata Iain knew the main business of the evening was about to be broached. He’d been reading her every mood and expression too long not to know the signs, but still she hesitated.

He waved his fork a little. “Come on then, spit it out.”

Chloe opened her eyes wide, all innocence. “What do you mean Daddy?” She took a sip of her wine. “Lovely and zesty, this wine. I approve your choice.”

Iain waited to finish his mouthful and took up his own glass. “Never mind the wine. I’ve been waiting all evening for you to raise the matter of whatever it is that you want, and I can see by your face you’re ready to talk about it now but you seem to be having difficulty finding the right words.” He chuckled a little. “It’s a good job for you other people don’t know you as well as I do or you’d never be able to hide any cards up your sleeve.”

“Oh, Daddy!”

“So – what do you want?” He circled his hand in the air urging her to speak. “You know if I can give it to you I will – when have I ever refused you?”

Chloe took a deep breath and it came out almost a sigh. “It’s nothing for me, Daddy,” she assured him. “It’s for Mummy.”

Iain looked puzzled. “Your mother has access to the joint account – there’s plenty of money in there.”

Chloe pursed her lips at him. “It’s not money she needs, Daddy, it’s you.” There, she’d said it, well almost. But she suddenly felt afraid of going further, the way her father’s face had hardened and closed down.

“That’s just where you’re wrong.” His voice was clipped. “I doubt she’s noticed whether I’m there or not for many a year.”

“That’s not true, Daddy,” she asserted. “You know she’s never built any kind of a life for herself outside of always being there for us.”

“For us? Or for you and your brother?” He placed both hands flat on the table and drew a deep breath. “Look, there’s no point in continuing this discussion so let’s not ruin a lovely meal.”

Chloe bit on her bottom lip, thinking hard. Inspiration struck her as she heard a party further along break into a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday To You’. This would take some working on but at least she could get the edges of the jigsaw in place and worry later about adding the middle pieces to complete the picture.

“Actually,” she said confidingly, “it is sort of for me too.” She took one of his big, strong hands in her own two delicate ones. He’d always loved her long tapered fingers – pianist’s hands he called them since she was too small to play more than chopsticks. “I’m a bit stuck to know what to do about Mummy’s birthday – you do realise it’s her birthday next month, don’t you?” She cocked her head at him and he flushed slightly.

“Well, you know me and birthdays…” he trailed off.

“Please, Daddy, couldn’t we give her a surprise party?” she squeezed his hand and pleaded with her eyes. “I’ll organise it all,” she assured him. “I’ll even choose a present for you to give her. I’ll just put it on the credit card you gave me.”

“Well, if it’s just my blessing you want for it then go ahead.”

Chloe stamped her foot at him. “Don’t be obtuse Daddy! You have to be there for it!”

“Princess,” he appealed to her, “you know how busy my schedule is. It’s not even a special year or anything.”

“Don’t Princess me,” she pouted, “not if you can’t give me just one evening in the whole year. You promised Mummy you’d give her a party for her forty first when you didn’t even phone her or send a card on her fortieth and she was all upset. It still hasn’t happened and soon she’ll be 43.”

“Look, I’ll try to rearrange for it,” he conceded.

Her dimple was back as she beamed at him. “Oh thank you Daddy, I knew you’d come up trumps!”

“Hey,” he complained. “I said I’d try – no more, just try.”

“I know you always achieve your targets Daddy.” She raised her glass to his. “Here’s to the best surprise party ever!”

*

Iain pulled into the garage and hit the remote to close the door behind him. He glanced at the briefcase on the back seat and decided to leave it there. All he removed was a jewel case which he carefully put in his jacket inside pocket. There was paperwork to be done still but he decided to leave it for the day – it had been a long one and he had to admit he was not as young and full of fire for it as he had once been. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt as he slammed the car door shut and headed into the house.

“Margaret!” he called.

She came hurrying out from the conservatory where she’d been watering her many plants and removing the odd dead leaf.

“Iain!” She looked flustered and seemed unsure where to put the indoor watering can she still carried. “Have I got my days mixed up again?” she asked. “I was sure you weren’t due home tonight.”

He looked at her with such a sad expression she felt even more nervous, sure she had yet again let him down with her disorganisation. She went over to him and nervously offered her cheek for their customary quick kiss on the occasions they did meet these days.

Iain’s heart wrenched inside him with a longing for days long gone, days they could never recall. She was still so beautiful in his eyes, still so innocent and naïve, for all that she had the exterior gloss of the elegant woman of his world that he had taught her to adopt, a gloss in keeping with his own hard fought for stature in the fashionable world. Had he done her a terrible disservice in asking her to become what she was not?

He groaned inwardly with a great surge of longing to take her in his arms as he once used to, to bury his face in her lovely hair that always smelled so fresh, like the flowers she loved. Hair that despite her best efforts still escaped into curls that he used to wind around his fingers, watching the sunlight bring out the burnished gold hidden within the autumn leaf browns.

She moved away quickly and headed for the kitchen. “It’s not a problem,” she called over her shoulder. “I have some lovely salmon in the fridge and can quickly rustle you up…”

“It’s OK,” he cut her off. “I’ve just eaten – with Chloe as it happens.”

She turned back, surprised. “Oh, she was here earlier and didn’t mention you were dining together.”

Iain laughed. Even to his own ears it sounded forced. “No, I didn’t know we were until this evening when she phoned me.”

They walked together into the lounge where Iain poured himself a scotch and offered a drink to Maggie, which she refused. She sat on the edge of her armchair. He noticed her unease.

God, is it any wonder I prefer hotels when I’m made more welcome by strangers in a hotel bar than I am in my own home.

“I thought it was today and tomorrow you were due to be in Norwich,” Maggie admitted hesitantly.

Iain flushed slightly. “Just tomorrow night now. Sorry if I’ve disrupted your routine, but there were some matters that needed clearing up here before the site visit.” Normally he wouldn’t have felt guilty about what his plans had really been for that night, but the sight of her framed in the conservatory door as he’d come in had brought to the fore feelings he normally kept locked well away.

“And Chloe knew you were still here,” Maggie stated stiffly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been the last person to know what he was doing.

His daughter always knows, his colleagues always know, it’s just his wife who is never informed of his movements and plans.

As she half turned away from him Iain saw the light and shadow on her profile bringing out her exquisite fine bone structure. Yes, she would retain her lovely features long into old age.

She felt angry, confused and miserable that she could feel jealous of her own daughter. But it was true. When James was born she slipped into second place in the hierarchy of importance to Iain. When Chloe was born both she and James slipped another notch. When the business really started to take off she alone slipped yet another place. James didn’t go further down in his father’s estimation until he made it plain he had no intention of studying architecture or anything else remotely related to his father’s business. He was adamant he was not going to be the heir apparent and he had forfeited his father’s attention from that point on.