The Business Arrangement. Natasha Oakley

watch them. Been so proud. Amy sniffed into the hanky. On certain days, on her birthday, the pain of being without her was still very raw.

      Hugh didn’t say anything. Instead he put his arm around her tense shoulders and pulled her into his hard, lean body. She could smell his distinctive aftershave and feel his comforting warmth. Just being held by him made her feel better. Not small or insignificant any more. Nonsense, of course. He was just being kind.

      ‘Did anyone remember your birthday?’ Hugh asked softly as she relaxed into him.

      She blew her nose in a small, defiant gesture. ‘Of course. I’m not completely unpopular.’ She could feel his fingers inadvertently touching her hair. He didn’t know, didn’t have any idea of how being with him was making her feel.

      ‘I wasn’t suggesting—’

      She rushed on. ‘Some of my friends from uni sent me cards. So did your mother, actually. She always sends a card because it’s the same day as your aunt Mary’s in Brighton.’

      She could feel the sympathy emanating from him and she didn’t want that. It was galling to have him feel sorry for her. She lifted her chin a little higher. ‘And Dad and Lynda sent me a cheque for my birthday.’

      ‘Enough to clear your debts?’

      Amy let her laughter bubble up. ‘Hardly. Enough to buy a few centimetres of the silk in your girlfriend’s dress. Richard bought me these,’ she said, pushing back her hair to show the twisted gold knots in her ears. ‘They match the necklace he gave me at Christmas.’

      ‘They’re beautiful.’ And then, ‘I’m sorry about your birthday. We both are, aren’t we, Seb?’

      She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘It does. I can’t believe I didn’t remember,’ Seb said with real bemusement.

      It was funny to watch him. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter so much. With a half-laugh, half-sniff, she finally tucked Hugh’s handkerchief into her cardigan pocket. ‘I’d better wash this before I give it back to you.’ She put her hand out to catch Seb’s. ‘You never do remember. Not since Mum died and there’s been no one to remind you. Come on, let’s get this picnic sorted.’

      Picnic was scarcely the word to describe what she’d put together. By the time they’d assembled everything onto tables covered with starched linen tablecloths it looked more like something from a film about an Edwardian shooting party than anything twenty-first century.

      ‘I can’t believe I got you to do this on your birthday,’ Seb remarked as he carried a large Brie to the table. ‘Damn! I forgot the keys.’

      ‘What?’ she asked, taking it from him.

      He didn’t answer her, turning back to Hugh. ‘The folding chairs are in the back of Jasper’s Bristol. I’ll have to walk back and get his keys. Stay and help Amy with the drinks.’

      Amy calmly made more space on the table for the cheese. ‘There’s a crate of wine on the passenger seat,’ she said, indicating back to Seb’s MG, ‘and that’s it, really. We’re done. Do you want to walk back and find Calantha?’

      ‘I’ll stay and talk to you,’ Hugh said, carrying the crate out of the low-slung car and putting it down beneath the shade of the tree. ‘They won’t be long.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Do you want a glass of wine now?’

      ‘Why not?’ she agreed, looking about her for somewhere to sit. There wasn’t anywhere obvious. The ground was still very damp from the morning rain. She rummaged about in the boot to pull out the plastic sheeting Seb used to protect it. ‘We’ll have to sit on this until Seb gets back with the keys.’

      Hugh picked up the corkscrew and carelessly lifted a bottle of white wine from the crate. His movements were so smooth and unconscious it looked as if he opened a bottle every day of his life. He probably did, Amy thought, spreading the sheet out. Not for him would there be little bits of cork floating in the wine.

      She sat down with her back against the broad trunk of the horse-chestnut tree and shut her eyes against the image of Hugh.

      ‘You look tired,’ he remarked as he handed her a glass.

      ‘I am.’ Her fingers tingled at the slight contact of his.

      Surely she’d outgrown this? She was so foolish to allow herself to be affected by Hugh Balfour. He had a girlfriend who could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine about to join them any minute. And that wasn’t unusual. He always had some impossibly beautiful woman in his life. It just wasn’t going to happen.

      Men like Hugh Balfour went for long slithers of women who looked great in clothes and made other men envy them. Witness Calantha. They did not, she reminded herself forcefully, go for height-challenged women whom they’d known since before adolescence.

      And that was just as well. She couldn’t cope with Hugh. She wasn’t resilient enough. ‘Seb and I loaded up the car this morning at about five. I’m not used to those hours any more.’

      ‘Were you ever?’ he asked, sitting down beside her, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers curling casually around the stem of his glass.

      ‘Just before Mum died she had problems sleeping. I got used to waking up when she did.’ She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the way her stomach nervously twisted itself in knots just because he was there. ‘It didn’t seem to affect me then—how much sleep I had or didn’t have—but I’m shattered today.’

      ‘It’s motivation,’ he said, leaning his head back on the trunk. ‘She was lucky to have you.’

      Amy looked down self-consciously. ‘I was lucky to have her,’ she countered.

      ‘Why can you never take a compliment?’ Hugh asked, looking across at her curiously. ‘Not many people would put their lives so completely on hold.’

      ‘For their mum they would.’

      ‘Seb and Luke didn’t.’

      ‘No.’

      He took a sip of wine. ‘Neither did your father.’

      ‘He’d gone to Spain by then. When the business went bankrupt he didn’t focus on anything much except that. And then he wouldn’t have been able to cope with seeing Mum like…well, like she was at the end, even if they’d been together.’

      Hugh reached out to brush a wavering strand of hair away from her hot face. ‘And you could?’ She looked away, obviously uncomfortable. Her blush spread in a mottled effect across her neck. It was fascinating. Other women couldn’t cope with being ignored, but Amy was embarrassed by attention. ‘For once in your life you’d better hear the truth about yourself. You were amazing to put off going to university to care for her. At eighteen. It was too much responsibility for someone so young.’

      ‘I loved her,’ she said simply.

      ‘And that’s all that matters?’

      ‘Of course.’

      She made it all sound so simple. She’d no idea how rare a quality she possessed. There’d never been a time when she hadn’t put other people before herself. No wonder his mother adored her. ‘Seb doesn’t have any idea just what he has in you,’ Hugh said with a smile before pulling himself to his feet. ‘Do you want some more wine? It’s your birthday, after all.’

      She’d been about to refuse, but she allowed him to refill her glass. The power of his words coursing through her veins was far more intoxicating than mere alcohol. The trouble with Hugh was, just when you thought you’d finally understood how shallow he really was, he was nice.

      It was as if some shining god had suddenly turned round and noticed a lesser mortal. You. It kind of took your breath away for a moment—but then you had to remember this was Hugh. And