A Most Suitable Wife. Jessica Steele

here to live.’ Taye reckoned you could not have a better reference than that. ‘Where is this accommodation?’ Claudia Sturgess wanted to know. ‘London?’ she guessed.

      ‘Yes,’ Taye confirmed. ‘He, in your opinion, is trustworthy, then?’

      ‘Totally,’ Mrs Sturgess replied, all lightness gone from her tone, her voice at once most sincere. ‘He is one of the most trustworthy men I have ever come across. I would trust him with my life.’

      ‘Thank you very much,’ Taye said, and, realising that she could not have a better reference than that, she thanked her politely again and put down the phone.

      Yet, having been sincerely assured by this woman who had been at school with his mother that Magnus Ashthorpe was totally trustworthy, still Taye hesitated. Even though she knew that mixed flat-shares went on all over the place, she somehow felt reluctant to have him so close. And, if she didn’t make that call to him, well, it was not as if he was desperate for somewhere to rent, was it? By the sound of it, Mrs Sturgess, his mother’s friend, would have him back living with her like a shot. Presumably, though, he did not want to return there.

      Taye thought of her own mother’s friend, the hardbitten Larissa Gilbert. Would she want to go and live with the thin-lipped Larissa? No way.

      The decision seemed to be made.

      Taye picked up the phone and dialed, half hoping Magnus Ashthorpe had his mobile switched off. He hadn’t, but he was already taking a call. She waited a long five minutes and then, aware that she had no option unless she was to go on the apartment-hunting trail herself—the much smaller apartment hunt; she could not bear the thought of returning to a bed-sit—she had to make that call.

      She redialled—it was picked up at the fourth ring. ‘Pen…’ he began, and then changed it to, ‘Hello.’

      She guessed his previous caller was probably someone called Penny, and he thought it was she ringing back from his previous call. Sorry to disappoint. ‘Hello,’ Taye replied, and began to feel more comfortable to know he had got a woman-friend. ‘It’s Taye Trafford.’ He said nothing. Not one solitary word. And she swiftly recalled how he had barely spoken when he had come to view the apartment. Perhaps that was what Mrs Sturgess liked about him—that he was not forever chattering on. ‘About the flat-share,’ Taye resumed.

      ‘Yes?’

      She found his monosyllabic reply annoying and started to have second thoughts. ‘There isn’t a garage,’ she drew out of nowhere, even at the eleventh hour, as it were, attempting, when she really needed him, to put him off. ‘Well, there is, but the owner is abroad and has a lot of his belongings stored in it.’

      ‘That won’t be a problem.’

      ‘You don’t have a car?’

      ‘I find public transport quite useful,’ he replied, and, assuming too much in her opinion, ‘I’ll move in tomorrow,’ he announced.

      Her mouth fell open in shock. Of all the… ‘I’ll try to get off work early—’ she began, and was interrupted for her pains.

      ‘You work?’ he questioned shortly. ‘You have a job?’

      She did not care for his tone. ‘Of course I have a job!’ she exclaimed. They were on the brink of a row—and he hadn’t even moved in yet! ‘It’s how I pay the rent!’ she added pithily.

      ‘Huh!’ he grunted. It sounded a derogatory grunt to her. But before she could ask him what the Dickens that ‘huh’ meant, something else struck her.

      ‘You can pay rent in advance?’ she queried, everything in her going against asking him for the money but realism having to be faced. ‘I shall need the whole quarter’s rent before quarter day, the twenty-fourth of June.’

      ‘I’ll give you the cash when I see you tomorrow,’ he replied crisply.

      ‘A cheque will do as well,’ she calmed down a little to inform him—she could bank his cheque on Wednesday, that would still give it plenty of time to clear before quarter day.

      ‘If that’s it—’ he began.

      ‘One other thing,’ she butted in quickly. Again he was silent, and she felt forced to continue. ‘Er—naturally I’d expect you to respect my privacy.’

      ‘You mean when you bring your men-friends home?’ he questioned tersely. What was it with this man? She had not meant that. Thank goodness there was a lock on the bathroom door. ‘Naturally,’ he went on when she seemed stumped for an answer, ‘you’ll afford me the same privacy?’

      ‘When you bring your women-friends back?’ she queried tautly.

      ‘Until tomorrow,’ he said, and cut the call.

      Slowly Taye replaced her telephone. Somehow she just could not see the arrangement working. But, for better or worse, it seemed she had just got herself a tenant.