Page 23 of The Facilitator, Part 2

“Yeah, right! Private plane, fair enough, Virgin upper class? No chance.” I’d read plenty of books with the main characters getting dirty in their private aircraft, but I didn’t recall one where they got stuck in the commercial airline toilets at fifty odd thousand feet.

“Anyway, I thought your list was going to be a surprise.”

“I’m no good with surprises. Now, I need to get some work done so we can get this vacation on the road.”

I smiled and left him to it. I had a meeting with Carolyn to run through who was to do what for the week we were away.

I met with accounts, marketing, HR, all of which reminded me how hands off the role of CEO actually was.

I missed getting my teeth into a project and wondered if that was why Mackenzie was constantly on the lookout for a new one.

I found I was so efficient I was twiddling my thumbs for periods of time during the day.

Or, I wasn’t actually that good at my job, not a thought I really wanted to hold in my head.

I decided I’d make some time to talk to Gabriella as to how to approach the fact I wasn’t really enjoying my job with Mackenzie. I didn’t want to disappoint him in any way, but I wasn’t using the creative side of my brain nearly enough, and that was beginning to show.

I left a little earlier than normal and way earlier than Mackenzie.

I wanted to get packed. It was, however, with a little trepidation that I opened the front door and deactivated the alarm.

I was being silly, I knew that, but since the incident with Scott I seemed to get spooked at the slightest thing.

I couldn’t help the fact we’d had two things happen from merging in my mind as a larger, imaginary problem.

The house was silent when I walked in. Just the echo of my shoes as I crossed the tiled hallway added sound. I placed my coat and bag over the banister as I passed on my way to the kitchen. I decided on a cup of tea and a half hour sit on the sun-drenched terrace before packing suitcases.

“Alexa, play Michael Bublé,” I said. I wanted some noise in the background.

Alexa responded and Michael’s gentle tones wafted around the kitchen.

I made my tea and unlocked the French doors.

I sat and sipped, while I listened to the sound of a beeping horn, the distant wail of a house—or it could have been a car—alarm and birds cheeping.

I chuckled; poor Michael wasn’t able to compete with that.

I’d lived in London, or on the outskirts, my whole life, but there were plenty of times when I craved the quiet of a country house or just the sounds of waves on a beach.

For many years, I’d enjoyed the buzz of London, the fact I would walk to a wine bar or a coffee shop, and restaurants were within walking—or a short taxi ride—distance.

There was a buzz, a hum of noise that, although I contradicted myself when I said I didn’t like silence, had started to annoy me.

I left the terrace and finished my tea inside.

I was upstairs with clothes strewn over the bed when the sound of a vehicle interrupted me.

I looked out the window to see Kerry emerge with an armful of dry-cleaning.

She opened the front door and called up to me.

I was guessing, since she didn’t need to deactivate the alarm, she knew one of us was home.

“I’m up here,” I called down. I heard her run up the stairs.

“I bloody forgot to pick up Mackenzie’s clothes yesterday,” she said breathlessly.

“I doubt he needs any of those so you shouldn’t have put yourself out,” I replied. She had already crossed the room and opened the door to his closet.

“I know but you can bet your arse it would be the one time he’d need something that was at the dry-cleaners. Anyway, I know you said not to bother, but I made a pile of things on the cabinet. I don’t like to pick out his underwear, so I left that to you,” she said with a laugh.

Kerry was about the most professional housekeeper I’d come across.

Someone who should be many years older, and should have been running a mansion or at least the London home of gentry back in Victorian days.

Except the odd time when her bubbly personality shone through, she was an old soul in a young body.

I liked to chat to her. I wanted a relationship with the woman who washed and folded my underwear, something I was still uncomfortable with.

I made a point to have chats beyond her role in the house.

I knew her kids’ names, why her ex-husband was an arsehole, how her mum gave up her job to look after the kids so Kerry would take the position with Mackenzie.

I understood she’d been a cleaner, with her mum, at Trymast. Mary loved her, and that was enough validation for Mackenzie.

What I loved most about Kerry, was she could fold clothes in seconds and have them looking as if they were about to be placed on the shelf of an exclusive clothes store. We had both suitcases packed in a half hour; all that was left was for me to pack a small hand luggage bag.

“I have the CCTV people here tomorrow but I’ve told Mackenzie, I’ll be coming every day of the week while you’re away, just to be sure,” she said as I walked her down the stairs.

“Do you want a cup of tea before you go?” I asked. I think I wanted her to stay so I had company more than she needed a cup of tea.

She checked her watch. “Go on then, I’ll have a quick one.”

We chatted as I refreshed my cup and handed her a fresh one.

She told me she was one of those very rare people who absolutely loved cleaning and taking care of people.

When Mackenzie had approached her to become his housekeeper, and even offered her accommodation to start, she’d jumped at the chance.

“He’s generous enough, I can have Mum at home for the kids’ school run,” she told me.

It was another display of how wonderful he was, really.

Kerry thanked me for the tea and left. Although Michael was keeping me company again, the vastness of the house was noticeable.

I packed my Kindle and a couple of paperbacks, along with sunglasses into a small cabin luggage bag. I left both suitcases and the bag in the hallway. Mackenzie could bring them down when we needed to.

I pulled my laptop from my bag and sat at the kitchen breakfast bar.

I scrolled through social media, a place I did my hardest to avoid.

I should have closed my accounts down after my ex-husband’s sexcapade was posted on my timeline.

My brother used his social media account to connect with the outside world.

I spoke to him weekly on the telephone, but it was also nice to comment on his posts, like, and laugh at what he’d managed to type .

Sebastian used a device strapped to his head to touch a screen.

Although brain-damaged and unable to communicate properly, he could read a little, and social media, although his account was limited to just family—I had made sure to delete Scott, of course—but he didn’t know that.

Thoughts of Sebastian reminded me to text over my flight details to my mum.

She wanted to be sure to have all the details so that, as she said, ‘ if anything happens, I don’t want to worry if that was your plane, or if that’s where you’re staying.

They have hurricanes, you know.’ I understood what she meant and sat with my phone while I gave her the details, the area I was staying although I didn’t know the complete address.

I also told her I’d contact her as soon as we arrived.

That satisfied her somewhat. She hadn’t met Mackenzie, although she had spoken to him on the telephone.

She was keen to see if he looked as he sounded.

I had no idea what that meant, but I needed to make a weekend available to visit as soon as we could.

Thank you, darling. You make sure you have a wonderful time and don’t go near any guns. Mum xx

I chuckled at her reply. Whatever was on the news was fact where she was concerned. There was absolutely no telling her the BBC could be as incorrect or biased as anyone else.

I’ll be sure to steer clear of any guns!

I was still chuckling when the house telephone rang. As before, it startled me; no one called on the house phone normally. I ran into the hall to grab it from the base before they could ring off.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Oh, hello. I was looking for Mackenzie,” a soft American accent replied.

Although I believed it to be Addison initially, there was a hesitation in the voice, and I didn’t think she’d have any problem in stating who was calling. I began to doubt it was her.

“I’m afraid he’s not here. Can I take a message for him?”

“No…no, it’s okay. I’ll contact him another way.”

“Who is calling, please?”

“It’s fine, I’ll call another time.”

Before I could ask any more, the call was cut off.

I dialled recall to see if the number had been recorded, but it hadn’t.

I replaced it back on the base. If it rang again, I’d leave the answerphone to pick up any messages.

I bristled though, if it was something to do with Addison, she was going to get a mouthful from me.

I didn’t appreciate that level of rudeness.

I began to feel hungry so decided to make myself a snack.

I knew Mackenzie had a late night and the last thing he’d want to do would be to cook dinner.

I grabbed some bread and cheese, another cup of tea, and walked into the living room.

I’d watch the news or a documentary I had recorded earlier in the week.

I’d eaten, watched the news and the documentary, refreshed my tea, and checked my mobile for messages. I then began to worry a little. If Mackenzie was super late, and the sun had set a long time ago, he’d normally send me a message. I called him.

“Hey, it’s only me, just wondering when you’re getting home,” I said, leaving the message on his voicemail.