The Driver Read online

  I knew that my suit was pressed and ready to be put on by my bed, so it wouldn’t take me long at all to get sorted once I was back. If I got an Uber home it would be even quicker.

  “You better make it forty-five,” and then the little arsehole hung up.

  I winced. I breathed for several seconds and then looked at myself in the mirror behind the counter. I noted the disappointment in my expression and scowled at myself in exasperation.

  I felt the familiar and wholly unwelcome ache start in my chest that the fragile friendship I had felt between us the night before had unraveled overnight.

  I clenched my fist. I didn’t have time for a workout, which would mean another late night at the gym, and he hadn’t even had the decency to explain why I had to collect him so fucking quickly.

  Screw it, I was going to have a shower when I got in and he could wait for an hour. If he fired me then good riddance.

  Forty three minutes later I was in the car and on the way to collect him, with wet hair and a foul mood.

  ~

  I pulled up outside his building and saw him standing on the steps in a sharp, charcoal suit under a large red umbrella, holding a takeaway coffee and looking out for me expectantly. This was new. He didn’t do morning meetings, so something must be wrong. He hopped in as soon as I pulled up and rattled the umbrella noisily outside the door before wrapping it up and sliding it into the hole inside the passenger door. Rolls Royce was nothing if not luxurious.

  “Privacy screen, Jay.”

  I blinked. His mood swings were getting tedious. I flicked the button to change the glass from opaque to see-through and he popped open the aperture so that we could talk more easily.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, aware that my voice was still little more than a growl.

  “Look, I get that I was grumpy on the phone -” He stopped, glancing at me in the mirror and then looking away. “Thanks for getting here so quickly, considering you weren’t even home. Big night last night?”

  I gave him an unimpressed look and turned the engine back on, moving off slowly, having no intention of telling him of my moonlighting schedule.

  I saw his shoulders tighten with annoyance but he seemed to decide to let it go.

  “Just go to my Dad’s and don’t ask me any more questions. This is for you.” He handed me the coffee through the little window and I took it gratefully. Thankfully, the new med student who I’d met that morning was bright as a button, very friendly and extremely understanding, considering I’d abandoned him on sight. I’d pretty much showed him the till and how to flip the sign from open to closed before I’d had to leg it. Martin was going to kill me.

  “Is this an apology coffee?” I asked, placing it carefully in a holder and glancing at Cal in the rearview mirror.

  “I owe you an apology now, Mr Parker?”

  I stiffened fixing him with a glare. “Does that make you Penelope?”

  “I can take the coffee back.”

  “I’m driving and it’s in a cup holder. Put on your seatbelt.”

  We drove for almost an hour in complete silence. I found myself asking the same questions over and over again about the night before. Why had he taken an interest in me? Where had that interest gone? Why did I suddenly care so much? Why was he so pissed at his father again?

  Donald Emerson was not someone I would have fucked with. The guy was enormous, nothing like his son, who was lithely built with a beautiful feminine face that he had inherited from his mother. His father treated everyone like they were inferior to him, which I hated on principle, and took every opportunity to belittle his son, despite the fact that Cal, from what I could tell, was quite brilliant at his job at the company.

  Officially, he was in charge of the money, but in reality he was responsible for a team of accountants who actually managed the money, with careful oversight from Cal, who smoothed things over with clients when they wanted more cash, or when they’d spent too much of it.

  I glanced at my silent companion who was lolling in the back, nursing a glass of what looked like Jack Daniels, but was probably something crazily expensive he had snuck in, in a hip flask. It wasn’t even 8am.

  His eyes were facing the passenger window again and his tie was loose, letting me see a small triangle of golden, hairless flesh beneath.

  He had an odd face. It wasn’t beautiful, but it was startling. He had an elegant grace about him, which he used to full effect with women. His nose was long and pointed above his pouting mouth and he had deep blue eyes that were a little too large for his delicate features. I think someone had once described him as a ‘Disney Princess’ on Twitter because when I first started the job he’d had the phrase printed on his t-shirt.

  I made the next turn into a long dual carriageway and told my eyes to stay on the damn road and not keep perving on my very straight, very pissed off, client. I managed for a whole ten minutes until I finally glanced back at him, and I froze.

  The road before me was completely empty at this time of the morning, and thank God, because I didn’t see a single solitary thing for at least thirty seconds.

  Cal was crying.

  It was subtle but I could see the sheen to his eyes, and a tear sliding down over his high cheekbone. I finally looked away as he took a drink. I think I was numb for a few minutes wondering what the hell to say. When I looked again he was still staring out of the window but the tears were gone. His eyes were a little red and his eyelashes were damp.

  Oh shit.

  “Five minutes,” I mumbled. He glanced up at me very briefly and nodded.

  And that was it. That was the moment.

  It had taken me four months, it had taken me glancing at him in mirrors and barely experiencing a full conversation with the man, but I finally saw the real Cal Emerson. A scared, frightened little boy.

  We were approaching the familiar, wide driveway to the family mansion. The house itself was beautiful, but you could be forgiven for seeing is as ramshackle at a first impression.

  It was one of the sprawling old estates that still exist in some parts of England. The difference was that the Emerson family had enough money for the upkeep and therefore it looked old and tired, with brooding darkened brickwork and small windows on its frontage, but inside it was absolutely stunning. Cal’s mother had been exceptionally sympathetic to the heritage of the property and her stamp was still on it, even now.

  I pulled up to the front and waited. Cal looked at the front door like it housed a pack of Rottweiler’s and didn’t move for several seconds.

  “Open the door for me.” His tone was almost, almost, apologetic, “Dad’ll be watching and he’s already pissed enough at me, without pointing out I can’t even train my staff.”

  I took a moment to tamp down the aggression that the word ‘staff’ ignited in me and got out of the car.

  The gravel path was beautifully maintained, just like the rest of the house, and I could feel the little uneven points of the stones through the soles of my shoes. The front door opened as I straightened my jacket and I nodded at the family butler, who was on the other side. He acknowledged me with the same slight tilt of the head, and I hurriedly opened the car door for Cal.

  He stepped out, putting a hand out to steady himself and I moved a little closer, pressing a packet of gum into his pocket.

  “You stink of whiskey.”

  The gaze he turned to me was fearful and a little bit grateful as he registered my words. From the smell of him and the state of his suit he must have been drinking a lot more than I’d seen him throw back in the car. He probably hadn’t stopped when he got home from Blakeman’s the night before. He didn’t look like he’d slept.

  What the hell was going on?

  I watched him enter the house; I shut the car door, got in and drove to the end of the driveway to wait for him to need me again. That seemed to be the theme with us. I hoped there wouldn’t come a day when I needed him.

  ~

  I’d been sitting swilli
ng my cold coffee and watching some birds circling overhead when I heard a knock at the passenger window. I turned to see Lucas, the elderly butler, smiling at me with some very welcome cups of tea in his hand.

  I opened the door eagerly and invited him in. He sat, after a little groaning and creaking, passing me a cup. It was bone china and probably worth more than my suit.

  “You’re an angel.” I said with a wide grin.

  “Funny,” he mused, “Callum calls me a penguin.” I laughed glancing over at his dicky bow and the starched, extremely traditional uniform he was required to wear. One thing Cal’s father was, among many others, was a stickler for tradition. I’d asked Lucas several times if he’d prefer to wear jeans and a t-shirt and it always made for a lively debate. He loved his job and he loved the uniform almost as much. I watched him happily as he sipped his tea and we watched the house together.

  “Thanks. You on your break?” I finally asked. Any silence with Lucas was a companionable one. I felt as though I’d known him for years.

  “For a few more minutes I think, yes.” He sighed and finished his tea. I cleared my throat.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate the tea but –”

  “Callum’s grandmother passed away last night.”

  I felt a cold lump settle in the pit of my gut. I gently rested the china saucer against my knee and waited for more. Cal had never spoken of his grandmother. I didn’t know the significance of her death and I waited for Lucas to explain. One thing I did know was that Cal was indifferent to almost every other member of his family. Then I remembered the reference in the café the night before about his grandmother putting ground almonds into her cakes; that strangely pensive expression that had come over his face afterwards.

  Had he known, then?

  “Callum was extremely devoted to his grandmother.” Lucas continued quietly. “Extremely devoted. He would see her every week without fail and never forgot to call her. They were two peas in a pod. He looks exactly like her, even has the same movements and mannerisms.” He looked away then, out at the house through the windscreen, but somehow didn’t appear to be seeing it. His gaze was distant, pained and the lines around his eyes seemed more prominent in that moment than I had ever seen them.

  “However, six months ago she and Mr Emerson senior argued. Badly. I’m not going to tell you the details. I don’t think it’s my place if I’m honest, Mr Taylor, and I don’t know you all that well.” I nodded. “Mr Emerson senior, for want of a better word, banished her from the house. He forbade Cal from seeing her after that day. Cal refused, of course, and tried to go and see her anyway, called her too, but she had disappeared. Cal was never able to track her down, and neither was I.” Another sad sigh. “We have spoken every day for six months about the possibilities of where she might be, but neither of us were ever able to locate her. I’ve looked. We’ve both looked but Mr Emerson senior was funding her care, and her housing. She was not independently wealthy and relied on Callum’s father to provide for her. The argument, I believe, severed that agreement and Callum has been sick with worry all this time that she was alone, that she had no one and that she thought he had abandoned her.”

  I felt as though there was ice in my stomach. My fingers itched to touch Lucas, to offer some sort of comfort. A hand on his arm or his shoulder, just to remind him I was there.

  “It transpires that she was living in a home up north. A cheaper life than she was used to, but reputable and with a good level of care. She died there last night following complications with a heart condition she suffered from. She was on medication and was always careful and looked after herself but these things do sometimes have a way of happening whether you try to prevent them or not.”

  At that point Lucas turned to me in his seat and levelled me with a hard stare.

  “I would not have told you this without Callum’s express request, other than for one thing.” I willed myself not to look away; those grey eyes were really quite alarming up close. “Callum hates anyone who works for him because they are chosen by his father. They have, without question, been obsequious idiots who are in it for the money, paid handsomely for their trouble and in his father’s pocket. However, you are different, a fact that is obvious from Callum’s trust in you.”

  I opened my mouth to protest that he was wrong and that Cal barely knew me, but Lucas raised a hand and I closed it again.

  “Cal is a man of few words and I have known him all his life. If he didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here. I saw the state he was in when he arrived and I know it was your morning off, and he could have easily called a taxi. He didn’t because he wants you here. This is going to be a bad time. He will miss Deidre greatly and he will not be able to express it in any other way than drinking himself into a stupor in the bottom of London’s barrel. If you are able to, I would be grateful if you could keep him out of trouble, within reason, and inform me if you think-” he paused and looked back toward the house; from this angle his eyes looked almost translucent, “if you think I have reason to be seriously concerned. Deidre thought the world of him, and I would not wish her memory besmirched because I did not do my duty. I cannot look after him as I did when he was a boy, but I would ask you to tell me, please, if you feel I need to know anything. Anything at all.”

  Lucas sat back. I realised I had been holding my breath and let it out slowly.

  So he had asked me to watch for the signs of a breakdown. That I could do. I’d been doing it with Martin, since Marie had passed away, for the last three years.

  I smiled at Lucas and cleared my throat.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate you telling me this, because I do, and not to say I know Cal better than you, because I don’t, but I really don’t think he trusts me so much as knows I don’t turn tail and tell his father everything he does.“

  “He talks about you.” That shut me up.

  Lucas wasn’t looking at me again.

  “When he’s here he’ll talk about you, during his day, he’ll mention where you’ve been, and complain that you never speak to him. He seems to see you as a friend.” And then he turned to me again. “I think he could do with one. I can tell you with absolute certainty he doesn’t have a single person in his life that would stand by him if things were hard. If he lost everything, if he was poor, he would be entirely alone. Money attracts friends, Mr Taylor. False friends. Cal is an intelligent man, and in some ways he understands that he is living a life he hates with people he despises, and yet he does nothing about it. Things are going to get very unpleasant for you, I’m afraid. Callum has never dealt with grief well and he pushes people away.” The affection in the man’s voice was almost a throb now. “I know deep down he is the little boy I saw grow up. He is better than the man he is becoming and for the first time since his mother passed I thought he was finding his feet.” He sighed. “Then this happens and it’s impossible to know what the future holds.”

  “Lucas?” He looked at me, a little surprised. I had never called him that to his face.

  “Jonathan.” He replied, with a teasing twinkle in his eye now.

  “I’ll do my very best. Thank you for telling me.”

  He nodded. A gentle smile and then he plucked the cup and saucer out of my hand and opened the door and left me alone with my thoughts.

  I watched his slightly crooked walk up the path and thought over what he had said as I picked up my phone. There was a single message on the screen.

  I opened the message from Cal with some trepidation but all it said was Come back. I read the two words several times, then drove back up the driveway feeling oddly nervous.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  To say the journey back was uncomfortable would have been the understatement of the decade. I glanced repeatedly at Cal in the back. He insisted the privacy screen was transparent again, and he just sat there, staring into space. Not even out of the window anymore but just at the lights in the ceiling, or the back of my chair. He barely moved for almost an hour.
/>   I found myself driving a familiar route before I knew where I was going. I have two favourite places in the city. One was Mama’s Hut; of course, the other was called The Shack, which was a little artisan café that had a penchant for American-style pancakes. As I drove there I knew that Cal would hate it, but I also knew he loved his food and it was one of the best places I’d ever been to for breakfast, although I never told Martin that.

  I pulled up, feeling awkward and not quite sure how I’d ended up here. This was one of my places to go. It was mine. Private. It wasn’t somewhere Cal would have heard of, let alone asked me to take him to. Somehow though, after the conversation with Lucas, I wanted to show him a little of what I liked to do, a little of myself. It felt like it would help, but I didn’t know why.

  “Where are we?” The catch in his voice made my throat tighten but I didn’t look at him. I knew at this moment honesty would get me a lot further than forced positivity.

  “Lucas told me about your grandmother.” I barreled on before he exploded. “This is my favourite café, except for Mama’s Hut. It does great breakfast pancakes.” I cleared my throat, already feeling foolish for what had seemed like a good idea ten minutes before. “I thought we could have breakfast. Or you could have breakfast alone. I don’t care.” I stopped talking, feeling my palms sweating. I could feel him studying me in the mirror.

  “You want to have breakfast with me? You can’t stand me.” The same flat, irritated tone.

  “True,” I replied, with a twitch of a smile, “but I hate eating alone. You’ll love it in there; it’s jumped on the hipster bandwagon so hard the owner wears a flat cap.”

  Cal snorted. “Oh God. Please tell me they make bacon and eggs.”

  “You know,” I said blandly, “I asked for bacon and scrambled eggs once but they said they only do poached eggs because anything else ruined the aesthetic.”

  And that got me a chuckle, and suddenly I felt a weight lift from my shoulders that I hadn’t even realised was there.