He tried to keep his voice calm and even. ‘You’re working for Robina? You know she’s bonkers, don’t you?’
She came out to plant herself in front of him. ‘Only about you.’
‘Does that make it any better? Bonkers is bonkers. Working with her might taint you, too.’ He turned back to the thermostat. ‘Let me show you this. It’s a lot easier once you’re let into the secret that the mode and reset buttons are hidden underneath this little flap, under the unit. So all you have to do to make changes is go to this mode and play around with the arrow buttons.’
For two seconds, her head was directly below his chin as she inspected the buttons. ‘Ah, I get it, thank you. Is every woman who has a crush on you “bonkers”?’ She took a step away but her perfume had already clonked him over the head. The hallway was too small for her to put much distance between them. He breathed the perfume in, unable to look away from her eyes; compelling, searching, flecked with gold. She should have been a lawyer — hypnotising criminals into confessing everything. Or putting their arms around her, lifting her off her feet and kissing that fascinating, fine-lipped mouth . . . ‘No. It’s just that Robina’s—’
‘—your stalker.’ Her tone was solemn but her eyes twinkled, as if now that she’d had time to consider the matter she doubted his claims. ‘Teenage crush behaviour is odd for a grown woman, I suppose. But she seems quite—’
‘—bonkers,’ he supplied.
‘I was going to sayindividual. I’ll make up my own mind about the rest.’ She turned towards her bedroom. ‘Are you heading home? I’m going to the Eastingdean Teapot, now. Shall I walk along with you? If that wouldn’t make me bonkers . . .’ She emerged with a jacket over her arm and two little books in her hand, one red and one blue.
‘You don’t need one passport to travel in Eastingdean,’ he observed, ‘let alone two.’
She collected her key from the hall table. ‘No, but the employer needs to see the employee’s passport for her to start work, in your country. So, I thought I’d bring both, just in case.’
‘I don’t remember seeing a US passport before.’ He tweaked the blue passport from her fingers.
She held out her hand. ‘I’ll have that back, OK?’
‘OK,’ he agreed, but flicked through the pages. ‘It’s no different to a UK passport, really.’ She probably thought her passport photo made her look stupid — women usually did think that — so he flipped to the photo page. Not too bad, really, although she looked younger and way too serious. He made to restore the passport to her waiting hand. Then paused.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Honor’s your middle name. Your first name is Freedom.’
Chapter Ten
She closed her hand around the little blue book. ‘It’s a name I don’t use,’ she snapped. ‘I’m Honor. I’ve always been Honor. It’s not that unusual, in the States, for well-meaning parents to give offbeat names or to have the kid known by the name that appears second or third on their birth certificate.’ She ushered him through the front door and locked it behind him.
‘Sorry.’ His gaze was curious. ‘Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.’
She tucked keys and her passports into her bag. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that people knowing always gives me a squirmy feeling because I’m kind of embarrassed. When I was young, other kids would poke fun when I got a new teacher and she called out for “Freedom Lefevre” instead of Honor Lefevre. Then there was the movie,Cry Freedom, and whenever that came around on cable it made all the other kids laugh.’ She set off down the steps. ‘I’m a little sensitive because it was the name that my mother gave to me then took her own freedom by leaving me. Ironic, huh? Dad hated it and it was him who picked Honor. He says that the names they chose indicated what each of them valued most. He and Grandma called me Honor and the Freedom part became just an irritating entry on my birth certificate.’
‘And your passports,’ he included, helpfully.
She frowned. ‘I don’t use the nameat all. I just never got around to changing it legally.’
He fell into step beside her. ‘But Freedom’s a fantastic name. Freedom Lefevre. You sound like a porn star.’
She flicked him a glance. ‘Gee, that changes everything.’
He laughed. ‘OK, that didn’t come out right. I meant to say that Freedom Lefevre sounds very hot.’
She breathed out, slowly. ‘I’d still appreciate it if you’d just forget it. I’m already the odd one out around here, and I want to integrate, rather than to stand out with a stupid hippy name.’
‘OK.’ He shrugged.
‘And I haven’t used Lefevre since I got married — I’m Honor Sontag. OK?’
‘OK,’ he said, again, without inflection.
They turned the corner into The Butts and he halted at the end of the block. ‘This is where I peel off.’ He indicated a set of stairs like a fire escape up the side of a building.
She looked up at the door above, in the wall. ‘Is this your place? It must be kind of fun to live over a shop.’
‘I like it.’
Saying her goodbyes, she turned towards the Eastingdean Teapot but she knew her face was burning and wished he hadn’t brought all the Freedom stuff to the surface. It had made her feel stirred up about her mom. Churning. Irritated. Angry.
