They stared at each other. Robina’s eyes glittered. ‘What has little Ru got to do with a deal? And why are you making me one?’
Honor ignored the last question. ‘The deal is this: I’m prepared to work whatever hours it takes to run the Teapot this weekend while you and Sophie swan off to your music festival if you’ll leave Ru behind to work with me — and you pay him the same hourly rate as you pay Aletta, not only for this weekend but for every hour he works for you from now on. This weekend is just about doable if we don’t open the back dining room and I think I can make Aletta work a little harder than she has been doing.
‘Andyou and Sophie have to get downstairs now and make enough scones and cakes to see us through whilst you’re away.’
‘That’ll take all night,’ Robina objected.
‘But we could do it!’ stuck in Sophie. ‘Let’s, Robbie! I want to go.’
Robina considered. All attention was on her. Her eyes moved from Honor to Ru, to Kirsty. ‘Maybe if you, Ru and Kirsty pitched in tonight—’
‘No.’
‘Ru isn’t as old as Aletta so I can’t pay him the same—’
‘You can. He works twice as hard as her. It’s the only deal on the table, Robina. And if I find out that you’ve dragged Ru or Kirsty down there tonight, the deal is off. You ought to be downright ashamed of yourself even thinking of making poor Kirsty work, anyway.’
Angry roses bloomed in Robina’s cheeks.
But Sophie clapped her on the shoulder. ‘Come on, Robbie, we can do it! Then we’ll get straight in the van and head off to Stratford and grab a few hours once we’ve got the tent up.’
‘OK then,’ said Robina, with bad grace. ‘It’s better than missing it.’
Honor waited, but she obviously wasn’t going to get a thank you. Neither was anybody going to ask whether she really felt that she could run a tearoom after working there as a waitress for less than two weeks. Maybe they simply shared her confidence that she’d had enough experience of making things work out to know that she could avoid complete disaster.
And at least gratitude was shining from Ru’s eyes.
She struggled up from the depths of the beanbag. ‘Leave the keys with Ru and I’ll be here at eight in the morning. You, too, Ru, OK? If you’re on the payroll, you have to be punctual.’
‘All right.’ Ru walked her down to the front door, tucked away up the walkway from the street. ‘You were wicked,’ he said, simply, before he shut the door behind her.
Chapter Twenty
Martyn had been waiting in the dark for thirty minutes but he wasn’t tired or sleepy. When he saw the slight figure emerge from beside the Eastingdean Teapot he let her totter on her huge heels down The Butts, then started the engine, flicked on the lights and wheeled slowly out of the car park.
At the side of the road, Honor paused, and he eased the big vehicle up beside her, rolling down the window. ‘Everything arranged to your satisfaction?’
She grinned. ‘Just about.’ Her hair lifted from around her face in the breeze.
‘Hop in,’ he suggested, opening the door and putting out a hand to help her up the tall step. He didn’t trust himself to get out to do it, getting behind her in that short skirt . . .
With a laugh and a whoop she made the jump, her eyes gleaming in the light from the street lamps. ‘Did you hang around just to save me a five-minute walk home? You’re a regular knight in shining armour.’
He shook his head, letting the X5 roll down the street past the silent shops. ‘I hate the idea that you may judge Brighton by Ali Spangles. Brighton’s a fabulous place. I thought you might like to see somewhere a bit nicer.’ He turned right, on to Marine Drive.
‘OK,’ she said, cautiously. ‘But I’ve sold my soul to the devil and agreed to look after the Teapot until Monday so I can’t be real late.’
‘OK. Just an hour or so to enjoy yourself before the hard graft begins.’
He drove back towards Brighton. The coast road at night always did something for him; the sea black and oily below, glittering with yellow lights, the pier’s skeleton exposed by a million bulbs. Turning right into the Old Steine, following thetraffic system up through Marlborough Place, he eventually turned off into a quiet nook above the North Laines and parked behind wrought iron railings.
One of the fabulous Regency houses with a curved front and several storeys, it could have been almost anything behind the big black door with4 Fox Squarepainted in white. He keyed in his pass number, swiped his card and the door buzzed him in.
‘What’s this place?’ Honor gazed around at the high moulded plaster ceiling and glossy tiled floor.
‘Somewhere quiet.’
A steward in black materialised. ‘Dining, sir?’
