Читать книгу Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal - Kathryn Ross, Kathryn Ross - Страница 10

AS THOUGH the fates had conspired against her, the bitter end to the affair coincided with a further blow. After slipping into a deep coma, her mother died three days later at the age of just forty-four.

At the funeral Madeleine was dry-eyed, too frozen for tears. Blaming herself for her mother’s death, as she had blamed herself for her husband’s, she felt leaden, desolate, weighed down by grief and guilt.

Eve and Noel were the only other mourners. Madeleine’s aunt and uncle wrote to offer their condolences, and to apologise for not being there.

The letter ended, ‘If you feel like getting right away come and visit with us, do, and stay for as long as you want to.’

The suggestion seemed like a lifeline.

Her job at the clinic was almost over, and Noel, on summer leave, and with nowhere to live, professed himself happy to flat-sit for her.

With Eve’s encouragement, Madeleine notified her private patients, and accepted her aunt and uncle’s invitation to visit them in Boston.

Her only regret was leaving Katie, who, on hearing the news, threw her thin arms around Madeleine’s waist and, her big brown eyes overflowing with tears, cried, ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘But you’re almost better now. If you keep on doing your exercises you don’t really need me any longer.’

‘I do, I do,’ the child wailed.

‘I promise I’ll come and visit you as soon as I get back, and then you’ll be able to show me how well you’re managing.’

Tears still running down her cheeks, Katie sniffed dolefully. ‘How long will you be gone?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Madeleine told her. ‘A few weeks…A month maybe.’

‘I’ll miss you, the little girl said, brushing away her tears.’

‘Tell you what—suppose I write to you?’

‘Can I write back?’

‘I’ll expect you to. Now, give me a smile, and don’t forget to do those exercises.’ Madeleine smiled, an ache in her heart as she said goodbye to the little girl who reminded her so much of Rafe.

‘I won’t.’

When Madeleine arrived in Boston, her aunt and uncle, who had a big house on the edge of the Common, welcomed her with open arms and, seeing how shattered she looked, did their utmost to cheer her up.

For their sakes she tried to appear cheerful, but her mother’s death had left her desolate, and she missed Rafe with a raw, ragged, savage pain that made her feel as if she’d been mauled and left for dead.

She had intended to stay in Boston for a month at the most, but, unable to regain her grip, and giving in to her aunt and uncle’s urging, the visit lengthened to five weeks.

After six weeks had gone by, feeling unable to accept their generous hospitality any longer, she declared her intention of returning to England.

‘Do you want to go home?’ her aunt asked.

‘No,’ Madeleine admitted—suppose she ran into Rafe, or saw the announcement of his wedding in the papers?—‘but I must get back to work.’

‘You’re not just worrying about money, are you? We’re not exactly poor, and I’m sure—’

‘You’re very kind, and I appreciate it. But I do want to start work again as soon as possible.’

Agreeing that that might be for the best, her uncle offered her a position in the physical-therapy unit of the Wansdon Heights Fitness Center, which he owned.

After some thought, she accepted. If she stayed safely in Boston, surely sooner or later she would forget about Rafe?

Either that or she was afraid she would grieve for the rest of her life.

Her aunt and uncle were delighted that she was staying and, when she announced her intention of finding a small apartment to rent, urged her to live with them.

‘We love having you here, and we’ve five spare bedrooms. We can turn the biggest into what you Brits call a bedsit.’

She thanked them sincerely but, needing to be independent, insisted on paying a fair rent and keeping herself.

Unable to change her mind, they agreed.

A phone call to London settled that when Noel went back to the Middle East he would hand in the keys to her flat, and Eve would store her relatively few possessions.

That part was easy. The letter to Katie, who was looking forward to having her back, was much harder to write.

The answer came by return. Her parents, apparently to soften the blow, were buying the child a computer for her birthday, and after extracting a promise that Madeleine would keep in touch by email Katie seemed reasonably cheerful.

The fitness centre was extremely busy, and in an effort to put the past behind her and give herself less time to brood Madeleine chose to work long hours, finding it rewarding and, after a time, therapeutic.

The bleakness of disillusionment, mingled with the longing for what might have been had Rafe proved to be the man of principle she had thought him, began to fade but still never truly left her thoughts. By the time Alan Bannerman joined the staff, she was over the worst. Or so she told herself.

Somehow—perhaps it was his mild manner, his charming diffidence—he got through to her, and when they had been colleagues for some six weeks she accepted a date. Apleasant, undemanding companion, he proved to be an antidote to loneliness.

When they had known each other for three months he asked her to marry him. Thinking him placid and unemotional, she was surprised by how ardently he pressed her. Unable to give him an immediate answer, she asked for time to think it over. She was relieved when he agreed to wait a week, and they arranged to have dinner the following Saturday evening.

When Saturday morning came and Madeleine still hadn’t been able to make up her mind, she decided to phone Eve and ask her opinion.

Listening to the familiar voice answer laconically, ‘Hello?’ she felt a surge of homesickness.

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Maddy! It’s great to hear from you!’ Eve exclaimed. ‘How are things?’

‘I’ve got something of a problem.’

‘Hang on a minute while I switch off the telly…Right, fire away.’

When Madeleine had told her, Eve exclaimed, ‘A man who’s not only nice-looking but also decent and dependable wants to marry you and you call that a problem?

‘Even though the love of my life finally moved in with me six weeks ago, I can’t get him to make any sort of commitment, let alone offer to marry me…’ Eve moaned. Then quickly added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sympathetic really. It must be tough when it’s something as important as marriage and you can’t make up your mind!’

Madeleine laughed. ‘Be serious for a second, Eve; this is important.’

‘What’s he like in bed?’

‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine admitted.

‘So you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length? I can’t say I blame you. Once bitten, twice shy…Though if you do decide to marry him, it might not be a bad idea to find out what kind of lover he is before you actually say “I will”…’

‘That’s the problem, Eve,’ Madeleine sighed, ‘I’m fond of him, but there’s no passion.’ Then, striving to be fair, ‘At least on my side.’

‘I thought not. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be hesitating. It’s Rafe, isn’t it? You’re still in love with him.’

‘No!’ Realising her denial had been too vehement, Madeleine added more moderately, ‘No, I’m not still in love with him.’

‘But you’ve never really got over him,’ Eve concluded.

‘It has nothing to do with Rafe.’

Eve grunted her disbelief. ‘I think it has everything to do with Rafe.’

‘As far as he’s concerned it’s over and done with. All in the past. Truly.’ Madeleine tried to make her voice sound as persuasive as possible.

‘Well, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. So what do you want me to say?’

‘I just want a truthful opinion. Whether or not you think I should go ahead and marry Alan.’

‘If you need to ask my opinion, you don’t love him enough and you shouldn’t be marrying him.’

Put like that it was blindingly simple.

‘Thank you,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

‘Don’t thank me until you’ve made up your mind.’

‘It’s made up.’ Madeleine smiled, relief flooding her voice.

‘Atta girl! Is it yes or no?’

‘It’s no. You’re quite right. If I needed to ask your opinion, then I don’t love him enough. It wouldn’t be fair to marry him. We’re having dinner together tonight; I’ll tell him then.’

‘What will you do when you’ve told him? I mean, if you work together it could make things difficult.’

Madeleine paused, trying to decide what to do. ‘I think, for his sake, I’ll have to give in my notice and find another post.’

‘I agree. Leave him alone so he can gather up the pieces and get on with his life.’

Madeleine gasped at Eve’s bluntness.

‘Look on it as being cruel to be kind,’ Eve said briskly. ‘You’ll be doing him no favours by hanging around. Now, how do you feel?’

‘I’m not sure. Relieved…a bit sad…restless…unsettled…and just hearing your voice has made me feel dreadfully homesick.’

‘You’ve been there for over a year, Maddy. Why don’t you come home?’

All at once, Madeleine very much wanted to. But if she did she would be in the same city as Rafe and run a risk, however small, of seeing him.

And that she couldn’t bear.

Just the thought made her skin chill with panic and the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Picking up Madeleine’s unspoken fear, Eve brought it into the open. ‘Unless you’re afraid of running into Rafe?’

‘Well, I…’

‘London’s a big place, Maddy, and it’s not as if you normally move in the same social circles.’

‘That’s true.’ Then, saying aloud something she had only thought about, ‘He’ll no doubt be married to Fiona by now.’

‘I guess so. I haven’t noticed any mention of it in the papers, but then I don’t often get to read the society columns. So how about it? Are you coming home?’

‘I’d like to, but…’ Madeleine hesitated as the practicalities of the situation struck her. She hadn’t managed to save a great deal, and by the time she had paid her airfare she would have very little money left.

‘If I come home I won’t have a job.’ She voiced one of the most serious considerations.

‘Presumably you won’t have one there when you’ve left Wansdon Heights, and there are plenty of openings in England for a good physiotherapist.’

‘I’d have nowhere to live.’ Madeleine sighed.

‘Come to me until you find somewhere.’

‘You’ve only got one bedroom.’

‘Well, I’ve a fold-away put-you-up, and I’ve recently bought a bed-settee, like you used to have, for the lounge.’

Momentarily tempted, then suddenly remembering, Madeleine said hastily, ‘I couldn’t possibly. What about Dave? He wouldn’t want another woman cluttering up the place, even for a short time.’

‘He wouldn’t dare raise any objections. I’d kick him out if he did.’ Eve laughed.

‘Please, Eve,’ Madeleine cried anxiously, ‘don’t fall out with him on my account.’

‘Hey there, I’m only joking. Where’s your sense of humour gone?’

‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just depressed.’

‘Then it’s high time you pulled yourself together and came back home. You’ve only been marking time in the States. Why don’t you really put the past behind you and start living again?’

After a moment, Madeleine said slowly, ‘I might just do that,’ and started to mean it.

‘Honest?’ Eve queried.

‘Honest.’

‘With regard to a job, you could always treat patients privately. Visit them in their own homes, or even take a live-in position, until you find the right kind of opening and accommodation.

‘Tell you what, I’m working tomorrow morning, filling in for Tracy. I can check the list of clients who want home-visits and see what new enquiries are coming in. I’ll let you know if there’s anything that seems suitable…Now, before you go, there’s someone here who would like a word with you. Just at the moment he’s sleeping on my bed-settee while he looks for a flat.’

‘Hi, beautiful!’ said a familiar voice.

‘Noel!’ Madeleine cried, her gladness evident.

‘What’s my favourite girl been doing?’

‘Behaving like an idiot.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he joked.

‘It’s great to hear your voice.’

‘I thought you’d be pleased. Hurry back, sugar. Seeing me in the flesh is bound to give you an even bigger thrill.’

Laughing, she said, ‘I didn’t know you were home.’

‘I’m back for good, ready to settle down to a nine-to-five job behind a desk.’

Madeleine didn’t believe him for a second. ‘You’re joking, of course.’

‘Yes and no. I’m going to give it a try, anyway.’

‘Any special reason?’ she pried.

‘You mean, is there a woman involved? Yes. Her name’s Zoe. She’s five feet three, with a figure like a dream, short dark hair, and eyes the colour of chocolate. Added to that, she’s clever, good-natured and loyal, and she thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ he added smugly.

‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? You always did have a good sales pitch. Just take care she doesn’t discover too many faults,’ Madeleine giggled.

‘Faults?’ He sounded affronted. ‘I don’t have any faults—like most men, I’m perfect.’

‘Of course you are. Sorry.’

‘I should think so. However, just in case she hasn’t realised all my finer qualities, it wouldn’t do any harm to have you on hand to sing my praises…’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, if you can’t think of anything better, you could always tell her how shy and sweet and utterly wonderful I am. If necessary I’ll pay you.’

‘You want me to lie to her for money?’

He groaned. ‘Where are your friends when you need them? Still, I’ll forgive you if you come back as soon as possible.’

‘I intend to.’ Whether or not Eve found anything suitable, Madeleine now knew for certain that she was going home.

‘Any chance of making it back for Christmas?’

‘I seriously doubt it.’

‘There’s a cold snap on the way and good odds on it being a white one this year. Remember how, as kids, we used to wish for a white Christmas?’

‘I remember,’ Madeleine answered wistfully.

‘Well, the long-range weather forecast has been for snow nationwide, the mistletoe is up and my lips are pursed ready.’

Madeleine laughed. ‘Even with such an incentive, I’m afraid I can’t see myself making it until the New Year. But I’ll get things moving as fast as possible.’

‘You do that. Bye, now. See you soon.’

With a sigh, Madeleine replaced the receiver.

The fact that she was going home would be a blow to her aunt and uncle, and she hated the thought of telling them almost as much as she hated the thought of telling Alan. But it had to be done.

In the event, telling Alan proved to be an even worse ordeal than she had anticipated. Displaying an unexpected streak of tenacity, he hung on like a terrier, refusing to accept her decision, trying to change her mind.

By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Madeleine felt totally shattered.

Pleading a headache, which was the truth, she opted for an early night and, fearing a continuation of the pressure, refused his offer to take her home and waved for a cab.

It was obvious that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and, knowing that for both their sakes it would be best to make a quick, clean break, she decided to leave Boston as soon as she could. But as it was only a few days to Christmas, she realized it might prove impossible to get a flight until after the holiday.

As soon as she got back to her bedsit, she called Logan Airport.

Her luck was in.

Due to a last-minute cancellation, there was a seat available on a flight leaving the following evening. Though it was in first class, and she couldn’t really afford the extra, she booked it on her credit card.

That done, she breathed a sigh of relief.

When she reached London, she would have just about enough money to enable her to stay in one of the cheaper hotels for a few nights.

How well she managed after that would depend on how soon she could get back to work. If Eve came up with anything suitable…

Thinking of her friend, she reached for the phone. It would be the early hours of the morning in England, so she couldn’t tell Eve what she’d done, but she could leave a message.

Having tapped in the familiar number, she waited for the answering machine to cut in, then said, ‘Eve, it’s Maddy. I’ve managed to get a seat on a flight leaving Boston tomorrow night. I’ll ring tomorrow afternoon, when you’re home from work, and give you the details. Bye for now.’

Then, her head throbbing dully, she emailed Katie to tell her the news, before putting on her nightdress and going through to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She had been sleeping badly lately, but, now she had come to a decision and taken the first positive step towards going home, she should be able to sleep better, she told herself bracingly as she climbed into bed.

For months she had tried not to think about Rafe, but, as though the decision to go back to London had opened the floodgates of memory, she found herself doing just that.

She could see in her mind’s eye how his thick, sooty lashes brushed his hard cheeks when he looked down…how his clear green eyes could go silvery with laughter, or dark and smoky with desire…how the creases in his lean cheeks—too male to be called dimples—deepened when he smiled.

She remembered how generous and caring he had been. How willing to give and take, to compromise. Remembered too how masterful and resourceful he could be when he thought it necessary. She had been at the Mayfair clinic one Friday evening when, returning early from what she knew had been a tiring business trip, he’d phoned to suggest that they had dinner together.

Having agreed to work later than usual, and unwilling to keep him hanging about, she had said no, and arranged to meet him the next day for lunch. She had then spent the rest of the evening regretting her decision, and wishing she’d said yes.

When she had left for home, he was waiting for her.

Leaning nonchalantly against his Porsche, wearing casual clothes and, though the sun had gone down, sunglasses, he had straightened at her approach and moved purposefully to bar her way.

Her heart had leapt and gladness fizzed through her like champagne.

‘What are you doing here?’ As he took her arm and drew her towards the car, she added lightly, ‘And why the shades?’

‘This is an abduction, doll,’ he said in the accent of an American film gangster.

‘Good gracious! Didn’t I ought to scream?’

‘If I was following the script, I should say menacingly, “Not if you know what’s good for you”.’

‘Oh.’

‘On the other hand, it would give me an excuse to kiss you,’ he drawled laconically.

Lifting her face, she asked demurely, ‘Do you need an excuse?’

‘An invitation’s better. Not that I really need either.’ Bending his dark head, he kissed her with a hungry passion that showed how much he’d missed her.

Then, as though his lips couldn’t bring themselves to part from hers, he murmured between soft, baby kisses, ‘I can’t wait to make love to you. I’ve thought about nothing else while I’ve been away.

‘This afternoon, in Paris, I brought an important boardmeeting to an early close because I couldn’t concentrate. I kept imagining I was undressing you, touching you, feeling your response…I couldn’t wait to get back, to make it all happen…’

A little breathlessly, she asked, ‘So what are we doing standing here?’

‘That’s a good question.’

He hurried her into the car and, sliding in beside her, started the engine.

When they turned down an unfamiliar road, she queried, ‘Where are we going?’

Sounding happy and carefree, he told her, ‘To a little inn called the Woolpack. It’s right off the beaten track and no one will care if we stay in bed for the entire weekend.’

‘Oh, but I…’

He glanced at her sharply. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you have other commitments?’

Judging from his tone, if she said yes it would precipitate a showdown, and she wasn’t prepared.

Brushing guilt aside, she decided that just for once she could miss her usual weekend visits to the nursing home.

Never easy at telling lies, she swallowed and said, ‘I was going to say I haven’t got a toothbrush or any clean undies.’

She felt him relax.

‘That’s all been taken care of,’ he told her. ‘I paid a visit to your flat and picked up what I thought you might need.’

Giving her a wicked sidelong glance, he added, ‘I didn’t bother to pack a nightie.’

The carefree mood was back, and with a little sigh, she rested her head lightly against his arm for a moment. ‘I’ve missed you.’

He gave her knee a brief squeeze. ‘Next time I have to go to Paris I’d like you with me.’

By the time they arrived at the Woolpack, a blue dusk was spreading gauzy veils over the countryside and bats were flittering about.

The lamplit inn, a lopsided, half-timbered black and white building with overhanging eaves and tall, crooked chimneys, looked as if it belonged in some Charles Dickens novel.

They were greeted by a plump and smiling landlady who showed them up to a small room under the eaves with a tiny en suite bathroom and black oak floorboards that creaked at every step.

The ceiling sloped steeply, and the low casement windows were thrown open to the balmy night air. A high, old-fashioned double bed, with a goose-feather mattress and sheets that smelled of lavender, took up most of the space.

A tray with a bottle of champagne and a plate of hors d’oeuvres was waiting by the bedside.

When they had thanked the landlady she wished them a cheerful, ‘Goodnight,’ and bustled away.

Rafe dropped their bags on a low chest and helped Madeleine out of her light jacket, before shedding his own. Then, glancing at the tray, he queried, ‘Hungry?’

‘Yes. But not for food.’

He gave a low growl and, sweeping her into his arms, carried her over to the bed.

Even though his need was every bit as urgent as hers, he didn’t hurry as he stripped off first her clothes and then his own and joined her.

Her arms went round his neck while his hands shaped and moulded her, clasping her hips to pull her firmly against his lower body, before making love to her with an unleashed passion that sent her up in flames.

When the heated rapture settled into a contented glow they lay in bed, kissing occasionally and feeding each other delicacies between sips of champagne.

It was lovely and romantic, and Madeleine had never been happier.

Afterwards, as though they couldn’t get enough of one another, they had made love again, and again, and, reliving that night, all the pleasure and warmth, she found herself trapped in a sensual haze.

Only when the haze cleared and she realised she was alone was the warmth replaced by such bleak desolation that she felt like crying.

Though what good would crying do? It was over. All in the past. She must forget Rafe. Forget the way he had made her feel. Forget the happiness he had brought her. Dismiss him from her thoughts and not look back.

But that was easier said than done.

After a restless night spent tossing and turning, she woke next morning heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, still feeling cold inside.

Jumping out of bed, she headed for the bathroom. But, while a hot shower heated her skin, it failed to cure that inner chill of loss.

When her aunt and uncle returned from church and asked her to join them for lunch, she broke the news that she had refused Alan’s proposal and was returning to England.

Though they were sorry to lose her, they accepted her decision without attempting to change her mind…Grateful to them both, she kissed them and thanked them sincerely for all they’d done.

Then, after writing and posting a short, difficult letter to Alan, she tidied her room and packed her few belongings.

Her cases zipped and ready, she made herself a pot of tea and was just reaching for the phone to call Eve, when it rang, making her jump.

Wondering if it might be Alan, she answered cautiously, ‘Hello?’

‘Maddy?’

‘Eve! I was just going to ring you. I presume you got the message I left?’

‘Yes, I did. Now, that’s what I call getting a move-on. How did Alan react when you told him you couldn’t marry him? You have told him, I presume?’

‘Yes, I told him last night. He refused to take no for an answer.’ Madeleine sighed.

‘In that case you’re doing the right thing. You need to get out of there as quickly as possible for both your sakes. How did your aunt and uncle take it?’

‘Better than I’d expected. They’re disappointed, of course, but they didn’t try to put pressure on me.’

‘Thank the lord for small mercies. Now for my news. As soon as I got to the clinic I checked through the requests for physiotherapy. There was nothing that seemed up your street. Quite disappointing really.

‘Then just before I was due to go home I had a phone call from a Mrs Rampling, who desperately needs help. Her husband had a stroke some three months ago, and at the same time fractured his hip. She’s worried that he’s making very little progress. It seems he’s a difficult man who hates hospitals and clinics, but he’s agreed to have a physiotherapist treat him at home.

‘She told me that what she really needs is someone who would be willing to live in for as long as it takes to give him a better quality of life.’

‘Where do the Ramplings live?’

‘I gather that at the moment they’re living in Kent, in a big house near the village of Hethersage.

‘Apart from the fact that Mr Rampling can be ‘uncooperative’, I must say that it sounds like a good bet. The salary she mentioned is generous in the extreme, and you’d have your own self-contained accommodation. Interested?’

Without hesitation, Madeleine said, ‘Very.’

‘Then perhaps you should give her a ring? If you can find a pen and paper, here’s the number…’

When Madeleine rang the number Eve had given her, a woman’s pleasant voice repeated the number, then added, ‘Harriet Rampling speaking.’

‘Mrs Rampling, it’s Madeleine Knight.’

‘Oh, Miss Knight…How good of you to ring me so promptly. I gather from Miss Collins that you’re still in the States?’

‘That’s right.’

‘If the salary I suggested is acceptable, would you be willing to come to us on your return? For a trial period at least?’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Madeleine answered eagerly.

‘Oh, that is good news!’

‘I understand you live in Kent, near Hethersage?’

‘Yes, we’ve been living there since my husband came out of hospital. Normally we live in London, but we’re having our house at Regent’s Park extensively altered, to make life easier for George. Until it’s finished, which looks like being several more weeks, our son suggested we stay with him at Hethersage Hall.

‘It is a good-sized place and we have our own ground-floor accommodation. There’s also a comfortable self-contained flat we hoped might be suitable for you. It’s not huge, but it does have a reasonable living room, a bedroom, a kitchen and an outside stairway which gives some degree of privacy.’

Then a shade anxiously, ‘I think you’ll like it.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Madeleine concluded.

She heard a distinct sigh of relief before Mrs Rampling went on, ‘You can either eat with us or do your own thing, whichever suits you. I gather you’re returning to England quite soon?’

‘I’m leaving Boston tonight. I should be arriving in London tomorrow morning.’

‘Do you have any immediate plans? Anyone you want to spend Christmas with before you come to us?’

While Madeleine knew that Eve would make her welcome, she also knew there was very little room in the small flat. And now Dave had moved in, and Noel was sleeping there, it would be quite impossible.

Added to that, Eve and Dave and Noel and Zoe made a foursome. She would be the odd one out. It wasn’t a situation she fancied. ‘No, not really.’

‘You have no family?’

‘No. My mother died just over a year ago, and my father’s in California. I shall probably book into a hotel until after the holiday.’

‘Perhaps you want to stay in London…?’

‘Not particularly,’ Madeleine added.

‘Then wouldn’t it make more sense to come straight to the hall?’

Tempted, Madeleine hesitated. The thought of spending the holiday alone in a hotel wasn’t particularly appealing, and, now that she’d splurged on a first-class ticket, money was even tighter than she had anticipated.

‘Well, I…I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family over Christmas.’

‘My dear, of course you wouldn’t be intruding…Though, as a matter of fact, George and I are flying up to Scotland first thing tomorrow morning. We’re staying with our son and daughter over Christmas and the New Year.’ Her excitement evident, she added, ‘They have a brand-new baby boy, and both George and I are looking forward immensely to seeing our latest grandson.’

Then, getting back to practicalities, ‘Our being away from the hall will give you breathing space, and also a good chance to settle into your flat. What do you say?’

It would be ideal in some ways, Madeleine thought, though it would leave her with Mrs Rampling’s other son and his family. Unless they too were going away?

But even if they weren’t, she needn’t feel she was intruding. The flat was self-contained, so she could keep herself to herself.

‘In that case I’ll be happy to, if you’re sure that arrangement suits you, and your son won’t mind?’

‘Quite sure. That’s all settled, then.

‘Mary Boyce, the housekeeper, will have everything ready for you, and if you can tell me your flight number and what time you’re due to land, we’ll send Jack, Mary’s husband, to pick you up.’

‘Thank you.’ Madeleine gave her the information.

Sounding warm and friendly, Mrs Rampling added, ‘Do make yourself at home. Though it will be January before we actually meet, I’m looking forward to it. Have a good flight.’

‘Goodbye, and thank you again.’

Relieved and excited, Madeleine quickly called Eve to give her the good news and thank her.

‘What are friends for?’ she asked. Then, with more than a hint of uncertainty, ‘But are you sure you want to give this a shot? After all, you don’t really know what you’ll be letting yourself in for.’

‘Hey, everything’s arranged. Don’t try and talk me out of it now. It’s much too late.’

Then curiously, ‘You seemed to be all in favour earlier. Why have you changed your mind?’

‘At the time I was quite convinced it was in your best interests, but now I…I can’t help having second thoughts.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’

Still sounding anxious, unlike herself, Eve said, ‘I just hope everything turns out all right. But if it doesn’t work, you can always come to us, you know. We’ll manage somehow.’

‘Thanks,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

‘Now, don’t forget, if you’re not happy with the situation, let me know straight away.’