Public Property Read online

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to call your cell because I assumed you’d be driving,’ Sasha spoke.

  ‘Which is why they invented the hands free kit. Look, never mind. I’m sure the no sex thing can be remedied later. So, who else is booked in today?’ Freya asked.

  ‘Just someone who phoned this morning. Someone called Jonathan Sanders.’

  Freya paled immediately, not certain she had heard her assistant correctly. It was a name instantly familiar to her.

  ‘Sorry, Sasha, run that one by me again. Did you say Jonathan Sanders?’ Freya checked.

  ‘Yes I did. Is that a problem?’

  ‘Yes. No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Was he English?’ Freya asked, putting the pastry down on top of a photography magazine on her desk.

  ‘Yes. Very well spoken.’

  ‘Well spoken. Perhaps it isn’t who I’m thinking of in that case,’ Freya responded, taking a sip of her tea.

  The Jonathan Sanders Freya was thinking of was the boy she’d begun dating when she was just sixteen. He’d been her first love and they’d been serious. Serious enough for Freya to tell him her real name was Jane Lawson-Peck and for her to introduce him to her parents. Days after that meeting, her father paid him to leave her and she hadn’t seen him since. That was over thirteen years ago.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘Yes, yes I’m fine. What time’s he coming in?” Freya asked, composing herself.

  ‘He said he wanted to take you out to lunch, about one,’ Sasha added.

  ‘Oh, well, did he leave a number? Maybe I’ll call him. I’m probably going to be tied up this lunchtime,’ Freya said, using her mouse to click open her diary on the computer screen. She knew she had nothing else on but she felt uneasy about it.

  ‘Yes he did. Here,’ Sasha said and she jotted the number down on a Post-It note and passed it to Freya.

  ‘Thanks. So, how are you doing for work today?’ Freya asked her, trying to turn her attention to something other than Jonathan Sanders.

  ‘I have an appointment. I’m having lunch with Heather Malcolm about doing some football team photos for the university. You said if she called back I could deal with it,’ Sasha reminded.

  ‘I remember. Well, if you carry on being so capable, there’ll be no need for me to come here every day,’ Freya remarked.

  ‘Sorry, I just…’ Sasha started.

  ‘Sasha, I was kidding. It’s fine, you’re doing really well. I tell you what, tomorrow how about you and I shut ourselves in a room and go through some techniques I think will be really useful for you,’ Freya suggested.

  ‘That sounds great. I’d like that.’

  ‘Good, well, one pastry down. What’s next?’ Freya asked, brushing the crumbs from her fingers.

  Sasha went through the rest of the appointments for the week but Freya was unable to absorb it. The lunchtime appointment with Jonathan Sanders was disturbing her. It couldn’t be the same person. It was quite a common name, and America was a big place. It was unlikely it was the same man. But Sasha said he was English. It could be exactly who she thought. She needed to discuss it with someone. She needed her best friend.

  Two

  ‘Hello,’ Emma’s voice answered after several rings.

  ‘Hello, Mrs P. How is that goddaughter of mine?’ Freya questioned. She smiled at the sound of her best friend’s voice.

  ‘Oh hi, Freya. She’s fine, asleep at the moment. I was just trying to catch up on some myself,’ Emma replied.

  Her friend sounded jaded.

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Time difference. Typical me, I’ll let you go,’ Freya said.

  ‘No, no don’t go. I haven’t spoken to you for over a week. How is everything in the US?’ Emma asked.

  ‘The US is fine, Nick is fine, I’m fine…but Sasha’s just informed me I have a lunchtime appointment with Jonathan Sanders,’ Freya told her.

  ‘Jonathan Sanders? Your Jonny?’ Emma exclaimed.

  ‘I don’t know, but those were my first thoughts too,’ Freya answered with a sigh.

  ‘What d’you mean you don’t know? You must know. I mean it’s an appointment, you usually know who you’re meeting. Or do they do blind appointments over there to make work more fun?’ Emma questioned.

  ‘Sasha spoke to him and made the arrangement. She said he was English but she said he was well spoken. Jonny was from Hackney. He was anything but well spoken,’ Freya reminded her.

  ‘Well, a few years have gone by. He’ll be about the same age as you now. Things change, you can vouch for that. He might have done well for himself,’ Emma suggested.

  ‘But in what field? I mean how many fields require him to need a photographer?’ Freya wanted to know.

  ‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to meet you in a business capacity. Maybe he just wants to catch up with you. I mean, you said a lunch meeting, perhaps it’s just lunch.’

  ‘But why? Why would he want lunch with me now? After all this time,’ Freya questioned.

  ‘I don’t know, perhaps he saw you in a magazine or a newspaper and it brought back memories and he thought it might be nice to get in touch,’ Emma suggested.

  ‘I wonder what he’s expecting me to say. I mean he dumped me, for money. That’s like a red rag to a bull,’ she responded, chewing a pen as she thought about it.

  ‘Perhaps he thinks you might have calmed down about it now - because you’re happy with a successful business and a wonderful man. He’s probably thinking some of the angst might have evaporated,’ Emma told her.

  ‘Didn’t know me very well then, did he? Angst is pretty permanent once you’ve pissed me off,’ Freya reminded her.

  ‘Maybe it isn’t him,’ Emma replied.

  ‘Yeah you’re right, it probably isn’t him. It just freaked me out hearing the name,’ Freya said.

  ‘I can understand that,’ Emma answered.

  ‘But it probably isn’t him,’ Freya repeated.

  ‘No,’ Emma agreed.

  ‘But what am I going to do if it’s him?’ Freya asked her.

  ‘Freya! If it’s him you are going to a) be professional and b) remember he’s over thirty now, not the seventeen year old he was when he took the money from your father,’ Emma told her.

  ‘But I can’t not mention that. I mean, it would be odd if I didn’t, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Why don’t you see if he mentions it and then if you get to your desserts and he hasn’t mentioned it, you can slip it in over coffee,’ Emma suggested.

  ‘Good idea. Now I know why I called you.’

  ‘I’m glad no one’s taken over my role even though you’re living further away than ever,’ Emma told her.

  ‘You are irreplaceable. So, how’s motherhood?’

  ‘Tiring. I thought being pregnant was exhausting, but it was nothing compared to the sleep deprivation I’m suffering now,’ Emma explained.

  ‘But Yiannis is helping with the night feeding, right?’ Freya checked.

  ‘Yes, he dotes on Melly, but I’m trying to breastfeed so it’s difficult to share that.’

  ‘Urgh! God! Sorry, I know it’s meant to be wonderful and natural and certainly all the A-listers are giving it a go, from what I have heard, but God, I don’t think I could do it.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t easy but I’m trying to persevere.’

  ‘I bet if it were men with the breasts, the percentage of babies being breastfed would be dramatically reduced.’

  ‘I expect you’re right.’

  ‘Listen, I’m going to try and come and see you in the next couple of months, because I have yet to see my little godchild in the flesh,’ Freya told her.

  ‘That would be nice. How long is the flight time for you?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Don’t mention the flight time or I might just hurl right now. It’s something stupid like fifteen hours with a stop in Paris,’ Freya said, her stomach churning at the thought of it.

  ‘You mean Nick hasn’t got a private jet.’
/>   ‘Nick used to have a private jet. In fact he used to have a lot of fancy things he didn’t need. I’ve been streamlining,’ Freya answered with a smile.

  ‘I hope Villa Kamia isn’t on your “unnecessary” list just yet,’ Emma said.

  Villa Kamia was Nicholas’ holiday home in Kassiopi, Corfu. Emma, Yiannis and Melissa were living in it while their own house was being built.

  ‘No, don’t worry. We won’t be selling that any time soon. That’s the one luxury item I want to hold on to,’ Freya admitted.

  ‘Well, hopefully we won’t be in it for all that much longer. The builders are progressing with the house quite well.’

  ‘Greek builders,’ Freya remarked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Greek builders progressing well,’ Freya stated.

  ‘I know what you’re getting at, but it really isn’t a mythical tale. They’ve nearly finished building the main structure. When you come over I’ll take you on a tour,’ Emma promised.

  ‘I’ll bring a hard hat, just in case the progress slows down between now and then.’

  ‘You have no faith,’ Emma said, laughing.

  ‘I’m sorry. OK, well, I’d better go. It costs a fortune to phone you in the daytime. Give Melly a kiss from me and tell her Aunty Freya can’t wait to cuddle her. Unsoiled of course,’ Freya said.

  ‘I will, and, Freya, give me a call later. Let me know about Jonny,’ Emma ordered her.

  ‘I will. I’ve decided it won’t be the Jonny we know. It will be some fifty-something high roller who wants me to take some pictures of his numerous skyscrapers. I get a lot of those at the moment,’ Freya said.

  ‘Well call me anyway, but not after seven my time because we’re trying to get Melly into a routine.’

  ‘Noted. I’ll speak to you later,’ Freya ended.

  As she replaced the receiver, Sasha came into the office waving a brochure in the air.

  ‘Don’t tell me! New menu for Phoenix Chinese? Gimme!’ Freya said excitedly.

  ‘No it isn’t, it’s the latest issue of Entertainment Now magazine. You and Nicholas are on the cover,’ Sasha said and she put the magazine down on Freya’s desk with a flourish.

  ‘Oh, is that all? Sasha, I think we’ve had a conversation about this before - several conversations in fact. Having my face on the front of a magazine does nothing for me and…good God, will you look at my outfit? Someone call the fashion police. What was I thinking? Horizontal stripes do nothing for me,’ Freya announced, as she picked up the magazine and studied it more closely.

  ‘I think it’s quite a nice picture. See how the photographer got the light just right? I think this was taken around dusk, going by the shadows,’ Sasha told her.

  ‘Are you trying to impress me, Sasha? This picture was taken when we visited the Carlton General Hospital to donate some money. It was definitely dusky, good spot,’ Freya answered her.

  ‘Whoever took it has captured Nick really well,’ Sasha said, studying the photograph.

  ‘He’s the most photogenic person I know. I could take a picture of him sat on the toilet and he would still come out looking amazing. Note the hint of jealousy.’

  ‘He has a great bone structure.’

  ‘Yes he does. But enough now or next you’ll be asking for a poster to go above your bed,’ Freya said.

  She picked up the magazine and dropped it in the bin.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sasha apologised.

  ‘That’s OK. It’s you and half of the female population of the world. I am one lucky lady, but don’t worry, I do know it,’ Freya answered with a smile.

  As she had no appointments that morning, Freya took her equipment and drove to County Bridge. County Bridge was ten miles north of Carlton and one of the five old bridges, all in a thirty mile radius of the city. Freya had been told about their existence by Casey, who ran the diner in Mayleaf. Their history was they were over a hundred years old and had been built by a group of Christians for the purpose of giving the surrounding towns easy access across the river to the area’s churches. All of the bridges were different in their style. Two had arches, two had a straight design and County Bridge, Freya’s particular favourite, was a mixture of both. That bridge had an inscription on one of the spindles halfway across which read Glory to the Father, leave sorrow behind and take hope from the past.

  Freya had taken to photographing all the bridges and had built up quite a collection of pictures. Her favourite time of day for capturing them was in the early morning when the mist was on the water and the sun was just starting to rise. It was important to have the light just right when taking photos of the bridges, as unlike most of the wooden structures in the area, the Christian Fathers Bridges, as they were known, were painted black.

  Freya stood on one side of the river and waited for the bird she was watching to land on the bridge. It was a black crow with a huge beak, scanning the water for flies it was chasing and catching. It flapped its wings and Freya took a picture.

  Crows were the only birds she had ever seen at the bridges. It surprised her as the surrounding area was grass and marsh. She would have expected to see a more varied selection of birds. She’d also never seen any fish in the river near the bridges, although she knew further downstream there was an abundance of trout and carp. She knew this because whenever she walked along the bank to take photographs of the bridges up stream, there were usually at least two or three fishermen.

  The crow left the bridge and Freya took her favourite camera, Claude, away from her eye and let it hang from her neck. She named all her cameras and Claude was given to her by Nicholas as a late birthday present just after they first met.

  Freya walked across the bridge and stopped in the middle to read the inscription as she did every time she visited.

  ‘Glory to the Father, leave sorrow behind and take hope from the past,’ Freya spoke out loud.

  She ran her fingers across the words, feeling the indents made in the black wood. Freya had interpreted it to mean there had been sorrow in the present for the Christian Fathers and they were taking hope from the past when their religion was founded. But perhaps she was wrong.

  A crow let out a loud squawk and Freya flinched, the noise interrupting, the stillness startling her. She looked at her watch and saw it was almost quarter to one. Jonathan Sanders would be arriving at the office in just over fifteen minutes. If she didn’t hurry she’d be late and she really wanted to be in her office and composed before he arrived, just in case. She had chickened out of calling him. She was certain it wouldn’t be Jonny from London. Why would it be? They had no unfinished business as far as she was concerned.

  She hurried across the bridge and headed back to her SUV, leaving County Bridge, silent and deserted.

  Three

  By the time she arrived back at the office Freya was red in the face and sweating. There had been awful traffic on the main road and she’d had an altercation with a teenage driver of a Carlton Cookies van who pulled out in front of her from a side street. If she didn’t love those cookies so much she would’ve given the driver a piece of her mind. She could have haggled for a large box of white chocolate chip.

  She locked the car and jogged towards the office, Claude still swinging from her neck. She hesitated before she went to push open the door. She could see through the glass. If she did step inside she’d come face-to-face with Jonathan Sanders. The Jonathan Sanders she hadn’t seen since she was seventeen. It was him.

  He was sat in one of the leather chairs in the reception area and Avril, the part time receptionist, was pouring him some coffee. Freya swallowed as she looked at him. He was wearing an expensive dark suit, with a white shirt and a dark grey tie. He looked smart and business-like. His hair was still jet black. His eyes that chocolately dark brown. But now he had a short beard, no more than stubble really. It suited him.

  He looked up from the cup of coffee and glanced over at the door. Freya pushed quickly and fixed a smile on her face. She needed to remain in contr
ol of this meeting.

  ‘Jonny,’ she greeted hurriedly. She moved towards him, hand outstretched.

  He stood up, put the coffee cup on the small table next to him and took hold of her hand.

  ‘Hello, Freya,’ he greeted, shaking her hand.

  And then, before she could do anything about it, he drew her towards him and kissed her first on one cheek and then the other.

  ‘Well, someone has been brushing up on their greeting etiquette, haven’t they?’ Freya remarked awkwardly, knowing her cheeks were flushing.

  ‘You look great,’ he told her. He looked her up and down.

  ‘You always did know how to compliment a girl,’ she replied. She was moving from one foot to the other, unable to stand still. Awkward.

  ‘I thought we could go out for lunch, if you don’t have any other plans,’ Jonathan suggested.

  ‘Well, I…’ Freya started. She looked across at Avril who was now sat back behind the reception desk.

  ‘There are some messages, but nothing looks urgent,’ Avril announced.

  ‘Well that’s good. Then we can go. Yes?” Jonathan asked Freya.

  ‘I guess so. I’ll just ditch Claude,’ Freya said, pulling the camera up from around her neck.

  ‘The camera? Oh no, don’t leave that behind. I’ve got something I would like you to see,’ he said.

  ‘That sounds intriguing. Before or after lunch?’

  ‘After, I think. I remember you can’t usually make it past one without needing something to eat,’ Jonathan said, smiling. The smile was still as charming.

  ‘Things do change you know,’ Freya stated. She was angry but she didn’t really know why. Having him here was upsetting her new balance. He was part of her past. The past she’d tried hard to put behind her.

  ‘I know they do, but are you telling me your stomach isn’t crying out for a pizza right now?’ Jonathan asked her.

  She could almost taste it the second the words were out of his mouth.