“I thought it was cancelled?”
“Not anymore,” I replied, and told her about my dad’s decision to hold the gala after all at such short notice. Olivia ranted about his erratic behaviour and cursed him for putting even more work on my plate. But I was only half listening. The article was still open on my laptop. I studied Kate’s delicate features, her warmgaze, and her adorable smile, which I hadn’t been able to get out of my head.
But it didn’t matter how often I thought about her or how much I had enjoyed talking to her. Even if I found time to see her again between all the crisis reports, bad news, and organisational chaos, it wouldn’t be anything more than a one-night stand. My life was already complicated enough without the scandal that would inevitably follow if I got involved with someone like Kate.
11
Henry Darlington took his date to McDonald’s? Perhaps the hotel really is doomed. Good! #BoycottTheDarlington
Online comment by ShyAndroid
Henry
Lightning flashes lit up London’s skyline in rapid succession. The glare turned night to day, despite the dense apocalyptic clouds obscuring the sky. Rain dashed against the windows of my penthouse apartment, and every time a gust of wind hit the panes, I felt tremors beneath my feet. A loud rumble of thunder came from the distance. The storm was about to get even wilder.
It was just after 11 p.m., and usually at this time of night, I could watch from my sofa as people scuttled around below, on the hunt for entertainment. But today the streets were deserted. I was sipping a whisky when another flash lit up my dark living room. I’d already tried going to bed, but sleep had eluded me. It wasn’t the storm that kept me awake—it was my restless thoughts, as usual. I’d spent an hour on the treadmill, but I was still filled with a nervous energy.
My thoughts wandered again to theINsiderarticle. I’d stared at it for a long time, not because of the headline, but because ofthe photos of Kate. She had stirred something inside me, not just because she was incredibly pretty, but because she was also funny, entertaining, and refreshingly honest. I kept replaying our conversation, trying to figure out if I’d been a jerk. I knew I could be pretty standoffish. Sheer abundance in my social circle often led to boredom, which resulted in youthful hijinks. As we got older, it fuelled gossip, so we were overly cautious about the things we said. I was worried I’d been distant with Kate out of habit, even though our meeting had been one of the highlights of my last few weeks. In spite of the fact that she had cheated me out of money.
I supposed this was why I couldn’t stop worrying about her—there was no way she could sleep in the park in weather like this. The radio had advised people to stay away from open spaces and avoid sheltering under trees due to the risk of lightning strikes and falling branches. A chill ran down my spine at the thought of Kate huddling, drenched and freezing, under her pile of blankets in St. James’s Park, the world ending around her.
I shook my head to dispel the image of her getting struck by a tree. She was fine. She had probably used my money on a hotel room or an Airbnb, and she had my business card for emergencies. Still, I was consumed by worry and absolutely certain that I wouldn’t sleep a wink until I knew Kate was safe. If I woke up tomorrow to the news that a homeless woman had been killed in the storm, I’d never forgive myself.
I grabbed my phone from next to me on the sofa and called reception. A few seconds later, Philippa, the unlucky employee assigned to night duty, answered. “Good evening, Mr. Darlington. How can I help you?”
“Is the chauffeur service still available?” I felt sober despite the whisky, but I didn’t want to risk anything, especially in this weather.
“Mr. Hammond is still here.”
“Tell him that I’ll be down in a moment,” I said, making my way to my bedroom to get dressed. Since I’d already been in bed, I was wearing only the boxers I’d quickly pulled on when I got up. I normally slept naked—another small act of rebellion against a silk-pyjama-wearing society.
“Of course, sir,” Philippa said. “What is your destination?”
“St. James’s Park.”
She fell silent. “Mr. Darlington,” Philippa said, sounding alarmed. “The rain is torrential, and this storm is forecast to get worse. Are you sure this is the right time for a nighttime walk?”
“Absolutely,” I said and hung up. What else was I supposed to say? I was well aware that it was a ridiculous idea to go outside, especially as Kate could be anywhere. But the park was the only place I could think of, and so I would try my luck.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back seat of Mr. Hammond’s car, watching the rain run in rivulets down the windows.
The windshield wipers flew back and forth, and we could barely see a metre ahead, so although ours was the only vehicle on the road, we crept towards St. James’s Park at less than twenty miles an hour. The drive felt like a test of my patience, but we eventually made it. Mr. Hammond stopped the car as close as he could get to the spot where I’d first met Kate last week. I pulled the hood of my black raincoat over my head and pressed a button that ejected an umbrella from a door compartment of the car.
“Sir, are you sure you want to go out there?” Mr. Hammond asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. The look in his eyes indicated that he was questioning my sanity. And to be frank, so was I. But that didn’t stop me from opening the door.
“Yes. I’ll be right back,” I said and ventured out into the storm.
The wind was bitingly cold and whipped at me so forcefully that it tore my hood down and made it impossible for me to open the umbrella. My hair was soaked through in seconds, and my tracksuit bottoms were plastered to my legs. I swore, tossed the umbrella back into the car, and trudged off.
Battling the wind and rain, I made my way to St. James’s Café, which was close to where Kate had set up camp. It was dark in the park despite the streetlights, and now that I’d veered off the path, the storm engulfed everything in gloom. I regretted not bringing a torch. I’d have to make do with the one on my phone.
“Kate?” I called into the dark.
The storm swallowed my words, and the lawn squelched under my feet. My socks became soaked through almost as fast as my hair. Branches torn from the trees by the wind cracked underfoot.
“Kate?” I called again.
But again, there was no answer.
