Chapter Seven
Climbing out of his perfectly shiny navy blue BMW, Henry gives me a horrified glance as he clocks my suitcase and four bin-bags full of my worldly belongings.
‘Just ignore these,’ I say, pointing to the tears that had fallen whilst saying goodbye to my flat. ‘They’ll definitely be gone soon.’
‘Don’t worry a jot,’ Henry says, picking up my suitcase as if it weighs nothing and sliding it into the boot of his car along with the bin bags. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a pretty tough time, losing your job. I’m just glad you’re letting me help.’
I smile gratefully, ignoring the shimmering guilt that floods my chest. Sliding into the front passenger seat of the car I sigh in relief at the heat blasting out from the fans. I press my hands against them desperately.
Henry gets in and presses a button to start the car. He looks across at me with a grin. ‘Let’s do it! All set?’
I nod. ‘All set… are you sure you’re alright about this?’
‘Genuinely yes,’ Henry grins. ‘I’m so pleased you called. I literally wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I have more than enough room and I actually do need a personal trainer.’ He flexes a muscle daftly and I can’t help but laugh. ‘It’s all working out perfectly!’
We’re only in the car for about five minutes when Henry turns and drives through a small archway and down a cobbled road full of beautiful mews houses.
Oh my goodness. Of course he lives in one ofthesehouses. These are the prettiest mews houses in all of Notting Hill. When I first moved here, I spent weekends walking these exact streets and dreaming of the day I’d be successful enough as a personal trainer to actually live in one.
Henry kindly insists on carrying all of my stuff as we head to the corner mews which is my favourite of all of them. It has a glossy red-painted door and frost covered ivy climbing up around the windows. It’s dreamy.
Henry unlocks the front door and I gasp as we enter straight into a gorgeous open plan space. It’s cosy and warm. The walls are painted a dark and elegant green colour, the floors a beautifully polished parquet. The walls are dotted with gorgeous pieces of typographical art and the sofa – a plum coloured velvet affair – is beyond stylish.
Henry watches me peering around and laughs.
‘I wish I could take credit but I can’t. My auntie is an interior designer. She owns Harmonious Spaces?’
I nod in recognition. I’ve walked past the Harmonious Spaces showroom plenty of times, always stopping to admire the window display which, come to think of it, looks a lot like this room.
‘It’s beautiful.’ I say, goggling at the beautiful inset kitchen cabinets, painted in a soft cream colour.
Henry shrugs. ‘If she hadn’t stepped in, it would probably be a couple of sofa beds from Ikea and a bare bulb.’
I eye his perfectly cut hair and expensive clothes and somehow doubt that.
‘Sit down, sit down,’ Henry says, taking off his coat. He’s wearing a navy polo t-shirt that reveals his body is in even better shape than I suspected. ‘Let me get you a drink, help you warm up a little more and then you can meet Auguste. I think he’s about here somewhere. He usually is!’
‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling slightly like I’m in some sort of dream. A very lovely, very warm, very stylish and elegant dream.
‘What can I get you?’ Henry says striding over to the blue painted open plan kitchen. ‘Tea, coffee, wine, tequila? I’m fully stocked.’
‘Tea, please,’ I say, deciding that I should probably lay off the alcohol for a while. ‘Milk, with half a sugar, if that’s alright?’
Henry spins around, his jaw dropped. ‘Wow. Milk with half a sugar. That’s exactly how I have it.’ He narrows his eyes at me, grinning widely. ‘I’m so glad you called.’
I flush red at the intensity of his gaze. A man this handsome has never looked at me that way before. I can’t say I dislike it. The opposite, in fact.
Henry joins me on the large plum coloured sofa that’s so plush and round I could happily fall asleep on it. We push our cups of tea together in a slightly awkward sort of toast and Henry tells me that this place is now mine for as long as I need and that he’ll get me a key cut tomorrow. ‘You must come and go as you please!’ he says, kindly. With the warm drink in my hands, the warm air on my face, and this extremely warm-hearted man looking at me like I’m not the hot mess I know myself to currently be, the ache and sadness that has been in my chest ever since I lost my job melts the tiniest bit. The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sound of heavy steps thudding down the open stairs straight into the living room.
A very tall, bespectacled man with dark wet hair and dressed in a fleece dressing gown and tweed slippers steps into the living room.
‘Aha!’ Henry stands up from the sofa. ‘This is Auguste, my room-mate. I suppose he’s your room-mate now too!
I stand and reach out my hand. ‘Hi, Auguste! It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for agreeing to let me stay.’
‘I am the room-mate. Henry owns the building, it is his choice.’
The first thing I notice is that Auguste’s accent is French – he says Henry like On-ree. The second is that he is not exactly friendly, though he’s not quite unfriendly either. He takes my hand and shakes it briefly before looking at his watch as if he has somewhere better to be.
