Guilty Hearts Read online

  She put her hand to her head. “I could really do without your sarcastic comments, if I’m honest with you. What has gotten into you lately? You keep picking on me, have I done something wrong?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me — have you?” he said, tilting his head, his eyebrows raised.

  She fixed her gaze on him across the dining table. Had he been suspicious all this time about her and she hadn’t even realised? The guilt she felt caused her to react defensively to his covert accusation. “Are you being serious? What on earth could I have been doing? Is this all because I went out with Jo a couple of weeks ago? Because if I remember rightly, it’s only since then you’ve been acting strangely.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, averting his eyes. “I’m tired, I’m going to have an early night — don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to join me,” he said as he jumped out of his chair and made his way out the door.

  Kathryn took a deep breath and released it slowly. What is happening to me? Why did I lie to Gareth about Rob going to Denmark? She had never outright lied to him before — well, not verbally anyway. But the thought of spending a whole evening with Rachel, uninterrupted by work colleagues or phones or distance, put an end to her feelings of guilt. Nothing was going to happen — she just wanted to have some fun.

  CHAPTER 16

  As a loud crack of thunder rolled across the darkened sky, Rachel was wasting no time packing for the next morning. She threw her overnight bag on the bed and began filling it with clothing and toiletries.

  “Come in!” she called out in response to the faint knock on her door.

  The door creaked as Zoe pushed it open, lingering at the threshold for a few seconds, her deep-set eyes meeting Rachel’s amused smile.

  “Why didn’t you stop me?” Zoe cried out, wearing black track suit bottoms and a pink T-shirt. She entered the bedroom and fell heavily onto Rachel’s bed, burying her face deep into the feather pillow.

  “And how was I meant to do that? You seemed quite in control last night,” Rachel reminded her.

  Zoe sprawled out her lanky body, her bare feet dangling over the edge of the bed. “I want to die.” Her voice was muffled, barely audible.

  “Why? Because you had sex?” Rachel shook her head sympathetically.

  “Yes,” Zoe groaned. “It wasn’t just sex, it was great sex and now I want more. Lots more.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Zoe dragged her face away from the pillow, opening one blood shot eye to look at her. “No insult intended, but she’s like you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rachel asked as she moved towards the chest of drawers and began rummaging through them.

  “You know what I mean. She’s a player, she isn’t looking for a one to one relationship.” Zoe rolled over onto her back and drew her knees up.

  “I really don’t see the problem,” Rachel said, retrieving the top she was looking for then throwing it in her case. She could never understand why so many people got caught up with feelings of guilt or regret when it came to sex. How did something so intimate and so enjoyable get such a bad rap — for women anyway?

  “You don’t see the problem?” Zoe asked her incredulously. “In the five years you’ve known me, how many women have I slept with?”

  “Let’s see now,” Rachel said, pretending to count, “er none.”

  “Exactly,” Zoe pounded the mattress with her fist, “because I’m not that kind of person. I do one on one — not one on many. Now do you see what I mean?” She peered up at Rachel through one eye.

  “Yes, Zoe, but if that’s what you’re looking for, you shouldn’t have jumped into bed with her without getting know her first.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re the bloody one who introduced me to her.”

  “That I am guilty of but,” she held up her hand, “I introduced you in a bar, not in your bed — that was all your doing.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Zoe said, rolling off the bed and heading for the door.

  “I do, but I don’t know what you want me to say — you’re the therapist, what would you tell your client?”

  Zoe turned to her. “To grow the hell up — hey, why are you packing?” she asked, as if only noticing for the first time Rachel was putting clothes in an overnight bag.

  “I’m going away tomorrow for the night.”

  “Where to?”

  “Denmark.”

  “Why on earth would you be going to Denmark?”

  “Kathryn has an appointment to do with work. I said I’d tag along.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “Are you joking?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “But I thought ....”

  “Zoe, we’re going to be sleeping in separate rooms. It’s all very innocent. We fly back early Wednesday morning.”

  “Innocent and you do not appear in the same sentence.”

  Rachel laughed. “Well, it’s true. I thought by now you would have realised that I’ve been true to my word. I’ve not made any attempt to go beyond a professional business relationship.”

  “I s’pose not. Alright, I believe you, now back to my problem.”

  “Do you want to see Cody again?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “Does she want to see you again?

  “Well, she said she did.”

  “When?”

  “She wants to come back tomorrow.”

  Thank God I’m not going to be here. The walls are way too thin for another night like last night.

  “So what’s the problem then?”

  “I don’t want to be used.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Zoe, get dressed and get down to a sex shop and show her what you’re made of.”

  “After all your years of seducing women, that’s the only piece of advice you can come up with?” Zoe picked up a pillow off the bed and threw it at her. “I’m so not impressed,” she said as she burst out laughing.

  “I won’t even mention your invitation to join you last night.”

  “Oh God no,” Zoe said, covering her ears. “Please don’t tell me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Just under two hours after leaving Heathrow airport, the British Airways plane touched down on the tarmac in Copenhagen. A short time later, Kathryn and Rachel arrived at Park View Hotel, which was positioned conveniently on the promenade overlooking Copenhagen’s southern harbour front. Resembling a postmodern cube, its glassy exterior afforded sweeping views across the harbour from the reception area.

  As Kathryn checked in, Rachel looked at her surroundings in awe. Minimalist furniture was positioned with precision around a contemporary angular fireplace. The ceiling height spanned two floors, with the first floor corridors and rooms visible from the ground floor. Guests walked up and down an elegantly lit central staircase, which served as the centrepiece of the reception area.

  Having obtained their room keys, the women made their way to the lifts.

  “If we just drop our bags off, we can head straight to my appointment,” Kathryn said as they stepped out of the lift on the third floor. “Is that alright?”

  Rachel nodded. “Yep, maybe I can talk them into taking an ad out in our magazine,” she added.

  “It’s worth a shot,” Kathryn replied.

  They remained silent as they walked along the corridor, searching for their room numbers.

  “Here we are,” Rachel said at last. “We’re opposite each other.”

  “Great,” Kathryn said, sliding her hotel key card into the silver slot mechanism on the door. “See you in five minutes.”

  “Okay,” Rachel replied, pushing her own door open and then immediately being taken aback by the enormous floor-to-ceiling window that dominated the far wall. Dropping her bag to the floor, she surveyed the rest of the room. A plush cream sofa with an assortment of coloured cushions sat in front of the large seamless window, overseeing an array of boats in the harbour below. She pressed
down on the most notable feature of the room with her fingertips — a king-size bed, covered with a crimson duvet and gold runner at the end. “Nice,” she said to herself as she walked over to a rosewood cabinet where a crystal decanter set stood on a silver tray. Taking the lid off one, she bent over to sniff the contents. “Ugh, port,” she said, wiggling her nose and replacing it. She strode over to a closed door and pushed it open. Peeking inside, she was impressed with the size of the oval-shaped Jacuzzi — she let out a low whistle through her teeth. This was the life, she thought as she heard a gentle tap on the door.

  ***

  The steel-grey factory sat amongst other newly built factories and office blocks in Ørestad, a recently developed area of Copenhagen. As they entered the reception, they were met by Blas, a tall middle-aged man with long red hair, pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Mrs Kassel,” he said with an outstretched hand.

  “Kathryn, please,” she smiled, taking his hand, “and this is Rachel, the journalist I told you about.”

  “Yes, of course. Pleasure to meet you both,” he said in stilted English. “Please come this way. I think you’ll be pleased with what we’ve done.” He guided them into a brightly lit lobby and through a pair of swing doors leading to a large, noisy workshop. Over a dozen male workers, dressed in dark blue overalls, laboured diligently at metal work stations whilst the local radio station sounded throughout the room. Several of the men looked up as the women entered, then swiftly turned back to what they were doing.

  “Just through here,” Blas said as he pointed to another door. Inside, the enormous cat tree was clamped in a large vice.

  “Wow,” Rachel commented.

  “Very impressive,” Kathryn said as she walked around it, feeling the roughness of the stiff fibre bound to the pole.

  “Yes, it is very good quality. We stopped work on it as you asked, but it won’t take long to complete once you are satisfied that it is correct.”

  “Ok, I have the readjustments Rob wants here,” Kathryn said, handing him a piece of paper she had taken from her bag.

  “Ah, yes. He emailed this over to me as well. They are only minor modifications, I told him you need not come all of this way.”

  “It’s for a very important client so I had to come and see it for myself.”

  “I understand. Would you like me to show you what we intend to do? Then if you are able, you can come by later today when it is completed.”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  For the next few minutes, Blas detailed his plans for the cat tree. He took out his tape measure and confirmed the dimensions with Kathryn. Rachel watched Kathryn as she followed him around the post, checking the sturdiness of the platforms as she did.

  “You want to feel?” Blas asked Rachel, pointing towards the post.

  Not wanting to appear rude, she approached it, her hand reaching the coarse material just as Kathryn was removing hers, causing their hands to touch — a spark of electricity passed between them.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said, withdrawing her hand to her side. She met Kathryn’s eyes and was convinced for the first time that she felt something too. The energy between the two women appeared unfelt by Blas, who was still busily inspecting the post. Kathryn stepped away abruptly and moved towards him.

  “Ok,” he said, “I think that is everything. Are you happy for us to continue?”

  “Yes, what time would you like me to come back?”

  “If you give us until the end of the day — maybe 4.30? It will be all finished by then.”

  “Fantastic, I look forward to seeing the end product,” Kathryn said as they began walking towards the door.

  “Great, I will get them to start it right away now.”

  “Actually, before we go,” Rachel said, moving herself forward. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure, fire away,” he said.

  ***

  “That went well,” Rachel said as they sat in the back of the chauffeur driven car.

  “Yes, and a lot quicker than I thought. Maybe it would have been wiser to have trusted him at his word.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. It feels good to get away from London, even if it’s for only one night but unfortunately we still can’t escape the rain.”

  Kathryn gave a tight smile. She was still fighting with the emotion she had felt back at the factory — why did her stomach knot every time Rachel so much as looked at her? Even worse — she felt like her veins would explode every time they touched.

  “So what do you want to do now?” Rachel said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “I don’t mind. What do you fancy?” Kathryn replied, opening the window. The cool air lowered her rising temperature.

  “How about spending the rest of the morning sightseeing, then having lunch?”

  “Yes, that sounds great — Aran,” Kathryn said, leaning forward to speak to the capped driver. “Can you take us to the Little Mermaid, please.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “We may as well start with the obvious,” she said to Rachel as she leaned back in the seat.

  ***

  Having crammed in as much sightseeing they could, the women strolled along Strøge in central Copenhagen. Seeing a bench free as they approached Amager square, Rachel motioned towards it then collapsed into its wooden frame, her legs outstretched.

  “Please explain to me what I was thinking when I put these shoes on this morning?”

  Kathryn grinned, as she glanced down at the four-inch heels Rachel was wearing.

  “I don’t know how you wear them at the best of times. Let alone walking along Europe’s longest pedestrian shopping area.”

  “I don’t think my feet are ever going to be the same,” Rachel said as she bent down, removing her shoes and flexing her toes. Feeling a brief respite from the pain, Rachel scanned the square, her attention drawn to the large fountain in the centre with three stone storks sat atop. “It’s a beautiful place. I’d never thought of coming here for a holiday,” she said, squeezing her aching feet back into her shoes.

  “Isn’t it? We’re so lucky the rain has stopped.”

  Catching the fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread, Rachel’s stomach growled. “Do you want to get something to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Sure, let’s find somewhere nearby,” Kathryn said, scanning the shop fronts for a restaurant. “The one over there looks nice,” she said, helping Rachel to her feet by gently encircling her waist. Despite Kathryn’s slight build, Rachel could feel the strength in her arms — she imagined what it would be like to feel those arms around her in a passionate embrace as they crossed the street.

  They approached a three-story, tangerine-coloured building and climbed the three stone steps to the entrance. Before Kathryn could push open the door, it swung open and a young man with a heavy growth of bristle, wearing green pleated trousers with a gold belt, beckoned them in. “Godeftermiddag,” he said, gesturing for them to take a seat at a table near the window. Above them, hams hung from the ceiling with small cups skewered underneath to catch the juices. A coffee machine splattered and spewed a few feet away on an aged oak bench, the spitting coffee causing the wood to stain.

  “Hi,” Kathryn replied. “I’m sorry we don’t speak Danish.”

  “Ah, you are English. No problem, please sit,” he said with a perfect accent.

  Rachel hobbled over to the table and sat on a rustic wooden chair, closely followed by Kathryn. The waiter handed them both menus.

  Scanning the room, Kathryn pointed to the artwork adorning the stark white walls. “You have some beautiful pictures here,” she said to the waiter.

  “Yes, we have a gallery across the courtyard. All our food is inspired by the current exhibition, either by the art itself or the artist. We change our menu monthly to coincide with our latest pieces.”

  “That’s a fantastic concept,” Kathryn said, turning to Rachel. “Shall we go and have a look after we have
eaten?”

  “I’d love to, yes.”

  Having ordered, they sat chatting about the day’s events. The food arrived and the waiter refreshed both their glasses with wine. Rachel couldn’t help but feel closer to Kathryn than she ever had before. She seemed so different from the Kathryn she had met in London — less reserved now and more at ease with herself. Familiar feelings of guilt and regret crept into her mind as the thought of how they first met resurfaced. What could she do? As much as she wanted to she couldn’t change the past. If she told her the truth she would ruin everything. Not only the interview but the close relationship that had grown between them.

  “Do you want to go back to the hotel and change your shoes?” Kathryn asked.

  “I’ll be alright. There’s always the option of going barefoot.”

  “You wouldn’t?” Kathryn laughed.

  “Sure I would, why not?”

  “It’s a good thing you’re not married to my husband, he’d have a fit if I tried to do something so ... unconventional.”

  “I did notice that you wear very sensible shoes,” Rachel said, leaning over to look under the table at Kathryn’s flat-heeled boots. She deliberately ignored the unpleasant feeling that ripped through her when Kathryn had referred to her husband.

  “I think that just about sums me up to a T.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “No?”

  “No, you know what they say, still rivers run deep.”

  “Not in my case, I’m afraid. What you see is what you get.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute, your reserves just haven’t been tapped into ... yet,” Rachel said, as she reclined back in her seat.

  Kathryn lowered her eyes. “Let’s eat up, I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone,” she said, checking her watch.

  Having finished their meal, they made their way through the back of the restaurant and out to the courtyard. A quaint, stone building lay ahead of them and as they entered, Rachel was overwhelmed by the array of sculptures and paintings on display. As they wandered around the exhibition, Kathryn’s hand brushed hers and Rachel wondered, just for a second, what it would be like to hold it.