Chapter 1

It was elegantly simple; a black-and-white photo from the waist up of a nude woman. He couldn’t tell if her hair was black, brown or auburn, of course, only that it was dark and somehow gathered up on her head, leaving clear her slim, elegant neck. Her face was in profile, looking to her left, features in perfect proportion; her body half turned the same way. Shoulders back, pert breasts thrust forward, revealing their perfection, nipples half erect. She looked cool, poised, wonderful. He was captivated.

Normally a ‘leg man’, Mike might not have given the picture a second glance, but somehow he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. To the extent that he ordered a large print, had it framed, and hung it on the wall in his lounge.

Now you need to know that Mike’s shy. He manages well enough in a work situation, dealing with customers as long as it’s technical; he’s polite and well spoken, well groomed and neatly (if unfashionably) dressed. It’s just that, in the presence of a woman he’s attracted to, he’s inarticulate, blushing and obviously uncomfortable. As a result, his few girlfriends have had to make all the running. Sadly, they very soon got tired of that. Porn ... or erotica, anyway, was his staple diet, hence the picture; although it might have been described as ‘arty’ rather than porn.

He had to travel to London to deal with a technical problem for a customer. You might ask why he was sent when there was a main branch of the business in the capital. Well, even though you didn’t, I’ll tell you. It’s because he’s very, very good at his job. He seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to computer problems, so he’s the trouble-shooter to go to, particularly when everyone else has failed. On this particular occasion, he was staying at a small, but very friendly and comfortable despite its lack of stars, hotel, not far from the place where he was working. For once his ‘gift’ seemed to have deserted him; He’d begun work when he’d arrived in London the previous day and had, he thought, eliminated all the obvious and several unlikely faults as being the cause of the problems, but after a full day he felt no closer to identifying the actual fault. As a result, he’d returned to his hotel, puzzled and fascinated, and was slowly enjoying his evening meal while his mind processed what he knew.

As Mike Barrett chewed over his meal and his conundrum, Siobhan O’Callaghan was facing a different one. Her companion, a tall, ruggedly handsome man with cropped hair and designer stubble was pleading with her while another young woman looked on from a a little way away.

“Siobhan, we talked about this...”

“No, Cass, you talked about this, and I made my position very clear. If I’m not enough for you, find another...” she bit off the word she was about to use, glancing across at the other woman, who, to her amazement, smiled slightly and winked, “ ... woman who is okay with it. Since I’m obviously not enough for you, I’ll be leaving. I do not want to talk to you again.”

She tore the ring from her finger, threw it at him, turned and marched into the bedroom to throw her clothes into a case before leaving. At the reception desk, the concierge was apologetic.

“I’m really sorry, Miss O’Callaghan ... but we just do not have another room for you. I might find you one at another hotel...”

“That might even be better ... er ... Robert,” she read his name off his badge and bestowed a thousand-Watt smile on him, which had the effect of delaying his efforts on her behalf by a significant amount.

As he began dialling, her former companion entered the reception area and tried to talk to her. The concierge anticipated a problem and pressed an unobtrusive button under his desk. When she ignored her ex, he grasped her shoulder to turn her to face him. It was a mistake; her hand impacted on his cheek with a crack that was clearly audible across the room. He then punched her in the eye just before he was grabbed by the hotel security.

‘Robert’ rushed out from behind his desk to help her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t wish to make trouble for the hotel by pressing charges. Besides, a suit for my loss of earnings as a result of his assault will probably cost him more. However, I would be glad if you would continue to find me another hotel...”

“We could ask him to leave...” offered ‘Robert’.

“Let’s hold that in reserve if you can’t find me somewhere,” she responded.

“Perhaps you’d like to sit in the bar and enjoy a drink on the house? Or I could ask for something to be brought to you?”

“Thank you. Perhaps a dry Martini? And ... would there be a resident doctor?”

“My apologies, I should have thought of that. We have a doctor on call. Two in fact, a man and a woman. The woman is Doctor Lewis. I’ll have her here in ten minutes.”

Two hours later, she was checking in to the small, privately owned Park House near Hyde Park, on the recommendation of ‘Robert’. “It’s small, and only rated two stars, but regulars love it. Very friendly and the food is excellent,” he told her, “not that I’m supposed to tell you things like that.”

Mike passed her on his way to bed as she was checking in, but didn’t give her a second glance. Siobhan just registered the good-looking, preoccupied young man briefly as he passed.

He was awake early with an idea tickling at the back of his head; he pulled on sweats and trainers and went out to run in Hyde Park. He ran easily, his mind ticking over in free-association mode, his feet making little sound, ignoring the dog-walkers. He ran ten miles at the seven-minute rate and returned to the hotel shortly after the tickle changed into a theory.

Siobhan was emerging from her room as he passed on his way to his room for a shower. It occurred to her that normally she would have been offended by proximity to a sweat-soaked man, but somehow didn’t mind. She paused and watched speculatively as he disappeared into his room.

The small dining-room was well populated when she entered and she was not surprised when the manageress asked if she minded sharing a table. She shrugged.

“Mr. Barrett,” the manageress said, “is a pleasant, quiet, young man. He might not be down before you finish, anyway, but usually he’s up by now.”

Her usual breakfast of bran-flakes, skimmed or semi-skimmed milk, and fruit juice was even less satisfying than usual. Shrugging, she requested black coffee and croissant in addition and, throwing caution to the winds, added sunflower spread and jam to the croissant. Butter, however desirable, was a step too far.

Mike, after a brief word with Mrs. Dunn, the proprietress, approached the table, offered a brief, distracted ‘Good morning’, to his table companion, and poured coffee into a cup; a plate of ‘full English breakfast’ was placed before him and he consumed it neatly enough but apparently without paying attention to what he was eating. Siobhan looked at the food wishing she dared to eat such a breakfast herself. They finished almost together and Mike left, muttering to himself. Siobhan went to her room and called her agent, who agreed to deal with the legal fallout from the previous evening. He suggested she consider leaving London discreetly to avoid media interest. In her room, she examined her face in the mirror. The injury was obvious, though the full effect of the bruising had not yet emerged.

Mike had a good day. His theory in respect of the problem proved to be accurate and working without a break, he had the system up and running perfectly in time to go for a late lunch in the Imperial War Museum cafeteria before spending a couple of hours wandering round the exhibits, gazing at the aircraft suspended in the air, reading the information on the displays (though quite familiar with most of it anyway) and marvelling at ground warfare items which included one of the first tanks to be used in the First World War.

He walked back to the hotel, took a shower and considered staying another day in order to visit the Science Museum; the company wouldn’t object – he’d just saved them a lot of money.

At dinner, he took note of his table companion for the first time. He didn’t recognise her, which might be surprising, but after all, his attention was drawn magnetically to her obviously bruised face.

“Oh ... my word ... are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. I just love being punched in the face and walking around with a black eye.”

Her satisfaction in her sarcastic retort disappeared with his response; he blushed strongly and appeared to shrink before getting up and fleeing the room. Mrs. Dunn, as if by magic, appeared at the table. “Miss O’Callaghan ... what happened there?”

Siobhan was not used to dealing with the shy and sensitive and was taken aback by Mike’s abrupt departure. She took several seconds to answer.

“He ... asked me if I was alright.”

“And?”

“I was sarcastic.”

“Well ... it’s up to you, but Mr. Barrett is a very pleasant, polite young man, though he is very shy. I feel sure he was expressing sympathy, not invading your privacy.”

Siobhan was silent, but met the other woman’s eyes.

“I think he went outside,” Mrs. Dunn said.

Siobhan nodded, rose and left the table. Mrs. Dunn caught the eye of her waitress, who removed the meals she had not long since placed on the table.

Mike had not gone far, he was sitting on the steps of the hotel entrance, chin cupped in his hands, elbows on knees. Siobhan sank with unconscious grace to sit beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Mr. Barrett ... I apologise.”

He turned to look at her and sat up a little straighter, but didn’t speak.

“The last day or so have not been a good time for me and I took out my anger on you. It was quite unfair.”

“I ... you...” he took a deep breath and swallowed. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry about asking...”

“Will you come back in and enjoy your dinner with me?”

“I ... er ... think I’ll stay out here a little longer...”

“Perhaps I could stay here too, then.”

Mike’s jaw dropped for a moment before he shut it with an almost audible snap, then, “Why would you do that?”

“Well, it’s quite a pleasant evening ... but I think I’d like to be reassured I really am forgiven. If you’d come in to eat with me, I was going to ask, if it’s not being rude, why you were so preoccupied this morning, but happy this evening ... until I upset you.”