Guilty Pleasures

‘For a woman?’

‘You know. Women aren’t as good athletes as men.’

‘Actually there’s very little between male and female athletes,’ surprised at the casual sexism. ‘Some of the Chinese middle-distance runners will be beating most men soon.’

She wiped a few droplets of water off her lips while she tried to work out if she recognized him. Looking up and squinting in the sunlight his face didn’t look familiar. He was definitely handsome underneath the red cheeks and sheen of sweat. It irritated her to think it.

‘Rob Holland.’ He extended a hand and she took it.

‘Emma Bailey.’

‘Ah. Local royalty.’

‘Hardly,’ she replied. ‘How do you know my family?’

‘Everyone in this village knows the local mafia.’

‘Local mafia,’ she said, trying to work out if he was joking.

‘So you live in Milford,’ she said slowly.

He sat down on the tree beside her and she felt herself flinch, the intrusion somewhat unwelcome.

‘London actually. I live in Notting Hill in the week. Weekends I head west and come to this place. Do you mind if I have some of your water?’

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘OK,’ she replied, hesitantly handing him her bottle and watching him drain the water from it.

‘Sorry,’ he said handing her back the empty container.

He was beginning to rile her. It was a time to clear her head and here was some cocky American slagging off women and drinking her water!

‘Which house?’

‘None of the best ones, obviously. Your family has the monopoly of those,’ he said playfully. ‘I’m at Peony House. The owners are away in Australia so I’m renting it.’

‘Mr and Mrs Parker’s place.’ She nodded thinking of the fine double-fronted Georgian house by the church. ‘I heard they were away.’

‘They have been. They come back in two weeks so there goes my weekend retreat. I’ve offered the Parkers 20 per cent over the value of the Peony House but they’re not having it.’

‘I could have told you they wouldn’t sell.’

‘You’ve not been around to ask,’ he smiled.

‘Anyway, I’m sure Notting Hill isn’t that bad. I thought W11 would be more your scene.’

‘It’s full of people I see during the week. That’s why I like coming here. To get away from the day-job.’

‘Which is?’ she said curiously. Whenever she met someone new she couldn’t help herself size them up; guess what they did; create a mental picture in her mind of their life and past. It was probably why she had studied psychology at college.

‘I work for a record company.’

‘Argh,’ she smiled. She should have guessed from the long baggy shorts that weren’t much use for the serious runner. She had him pegged as something maybe in PR although he had that arrogance, that cocksureness that came with the young and very wealthy. Maybe it was family money.

‘Shouldn’t you be at crazy parties at the weekend?’

‘Don’t you know they happen in the week,’ he laughed. ‘I like my weekends for escaping from the music industry. Escaping from band managers, and people like John James.’

‘Who’s he?’ Emma asked innocently.