Читать книгу The Token Wife - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 8

A SILENCE that Alex Fabian was the first to break.

He said, ‘I seem to have startled you. I’m sorry. I hope the breakage won’t be stopped out of your wages,’ he added smoothly.

Lou glared at him. He’d discarded the jacket and tie he’d been wearing at dinner, and his white shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing more than she wished to see of a brown, muscular chest. His cuffs were undone and turned casually back over equally tanned forearms.

She said, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing—creeping around at this time of night?’

‘This time of night?’ he echoed derisively. ‘Lady, in London the evening would just be beginning.’

‘Well, we don’t go in much for big-city nightlife round here,’ Lou said curtly.

‘I gathered that,’ he said drily. ‘On the stroke of midnight, everyone turns back into pumpkins.’

‘You should have made it clear you wanted to be entertained.’ Lou went over to the broom cupboard in the corner, and extracted a dustpan and brush. ‘I’m sure my family would have turned cartwheels for you.’

Alex Fabian whistled softly. ‘I get the distinct impression, Miss Trentham, that you don’t like me very much.’

‘Fortunately, I don’t have to.’ She began to sweep up the broken pieces. ‘We inhabit totally different worlds, Mr Fabian.’

‘Worlds which seem to have collided,’ he said. ‘I’m about to become part of the family. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’

She emptied the dustpan into the rubbish bin with a clatter. ‘On having got what you want? I imagine that’s the norm for you. Besides, with all you have to offer, how could Ellie possibly resist?’

‘I admit I thought she’d respond better to the carrot than the stick.’ He seemed amused, rather than offended. ‘I’m glad you agree.’

‘Well, I’m not glad about any of it. And where is Ellie, anyway?’

‘She opted for an early night, and the others followed,’ he said. His mouth twisted. ‘I think the excitement was all too much for her.’

Lou went on loading the dishwasher. She said in a low voice, ‘I think you’re too much for her. Don’t you know that she’s frightened of you?’

‘No,’ Alex Fabian said quietly, after a pause. ‘I didn’t realise that. But she truly has nothing to be scared of. Maybe I didn’t make that as clear as I should have done.’

‘Ellie’s a beautiful girl, but she’s also fragile. She needs kindness, Mr Fabian. I’m not sure you have much of that to spare.’

‘Then maybe that’s a trait we share, Miss Trentham.’ His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘You’re very ready to condemn on very little evidence. I promise you on my word of honour that Ellie has nothing to fear from me. That I will look after her as my wife, and treat her well. Does that satisfy you?’

‘Perhaps it’s her that you should reassure.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I would have done, if I’d had the chance to be alone with her before she scuttled off to bed. As a matter of fact, I tapped on her door just now and spoke to her in case she was still awake, but there was no answer.’

‘She probably thought you wanted more than conversation.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘Oh, God,’ Lou muttered under her breath. ‘I’ve done it now.’ And she bent swiftly to put the detergent tablet in the machine to disguise the fact that she was blushing.

He said quite mildly, ‘Now, why should she think any such thing? As you’re so much in her confidence, you must know I’ve made no demands of that kind.’

‘Yes, but you’re engaged now. Officially. That—changes things.’ Lou, having dug the hole and fallen into it, was now sinking rapidly. She shut the machine door, and switched on the programme. Anything not to have to look at him. Or hear him. Or even share the same universe with him, she thought detachedly.

‘Does it indeed?’ he said, and she could hear the unholy amusement quivering in his voice. ‘Well, I’ve never been engaged before, so I bow to your superior wisdom. Should I rush upstairs and ravish her now, do you think, or can it wait until tomorrow night?

‘You see, I’d actually planned to make myself some coffee, and do a couple of hours’ work on my laptop, but I’m prepared to make the sacrifice, if necessary,’ he added piously.

‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’ Lou swung round and faced him stormily.

‘Think what you want.’ He shrugged. ‘If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me. And the kettle’s boiling. Shall I make us both some coffee?’

‘I’m having herb tea.’ If it was an olive branch, Lou didn’t want it. ‘I don’t drink coffee at this hour. It keeps me awake.’

‘How naughty of it,’ Alex Fabian said gravely. ‘Of course, there are a lot of far more pleasurable activities that have exactly the same effect, but perhaps you haven’t tried those.’

Helplessly, Lou felt her face warming again. She went over to the cupboard, produced two beakers, set them on the worktop, and pushed the coffee jar towards him without a word.

‘Before you flounce out of the room, slamming the door behind you,’ Alex Fabian said pleasantly, spooning granules into his beaker and adding boiling water, ‘I should tell you that was a magnificent dinner you gave us tonight.’

‘Thank you.’ The beguiling aroma of coffee seemed to fill the kitchen. Biting her lip, Lou dropped a camomile tea bag into her beaker, and let it infuse.

‘Have you ever thought of cooking professionally?’ he went on. ‘Private lunch and dinner parties in people’s homes? I should think you’d make a fortune.’

‘On the contrary,’ Lou said. ‘In future, I intend to cook only for my husband.’

He gave her bare left hand a fleeting glance. ‘Does this fortunate guy exist, or is he simply an erotic fantasy in your caffeine-free dreams?’

‘Of course he’s real. I—I thought you knew I was engaged.’ Her flush deepened.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Our brief debate on sexual etiquette. I thought you knew that was a wind-up.’

‘And Ellie didn’t tell you?’

‘Ellie,’ he said, ‘has told me very little. But I haven’t exactly been forthcoming myself, so I can hardly complain.’ He paused. ‘So, who is he?’

‘Someone I’ve known forever. He lives in the village, and works for Galbraiths in their regional office.’

‘Does he have a name?’

‘He’s called David Sanders.’ Her tone was short. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘So that when I come to your wedding I’ll know what to call the groom,’ Alex Fabian said calmly. ‘I presume, as Ellie’s husband, I’ll receive an invitation.’

Ellie’s husband, she thought. Ellie’s husband? If she lived to be a thousand, she could never see him in any such role.

She said slowly, ‘I suppose so.’ She fished out the tea bag and disposed of it. ‘Do you want milk in your coffee?’

‘I take it black,’ he said. ‘It helps me stay awake.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You have work to do. Please don’t let me keep you.’

‘I am working,’ he said, and smiled at her with faint mockery. ‘Building bridges, I hope, with my future sister-in-law.’ He leaned against the kitchen table and took a meditative sip of coffee. ‘Tell me, how is it you don’t work for Trentham Osborne as Ellie does?’

‘Because publishing never appealed to me, and London certainly didn’t. I was always happiest here, so I moved back permanently and got a job with a local law firm.’

‘You’re a solicitor?’

She bit her lip. ‘No, a paralegal. I went to the same school as Ellie, and they weren’t geared up for university grades, just…’ She hesitated.

‘Just grooming the girls to make suitable marriages?’ he prompted softly.

‘Actually—yes,’ Lou acknowledged ruefully. She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t believe that it could still go on.’

‘No?’ He drank some more coffee, watching her over the rim of the beaker. ‘Yet it seems to have worked for you.’

‘David isn’t “suitable” in that sense,’ she said. As her stepmother never failed to make clear, she thought wryly. ‘Just—the right man for me.’

‘How fortunate you are,’ he said softly. ‘To be so certain so early in your life.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think I am.’

She finished her tea, and rinsed her beaker briskly under the tap. She gave him a bright, meaningless smile. ‘Well—goodnight. Will you switch off the lights as you go up?’

At the door, she paused. She said haltingly, ‘And I’m sorry for the way I spoke earlier. I—I hope that you and Ellie will be very happy together.’

The green eyes met hers, cool and enigmatic.

‘I feel sure,’ he said, ‘that her old school would be proud of her. Goodnight—sister-in-law.’

She was suddenly aware that her heart was thudding quickly—unpredictably. She smiled uncertainly, and went swiftly upstairs to her room. She closed the door behind her and drew a deep breath.

For a moment there, she’d allowed her guard to drop. And had been made aware, in a few devastating seconds, how disturbing a man Alex Fabian could be.

Bad move on her part, she thought. And lesson duly learned. From now on she would take more care. And keeping out of his way was just the first step.

Lou was tired when she climbed into bed, but sleep proved elusive just the same. She found her mind was churning, going over her encounter with Alex in the kitchen, and trying to analyse what had been said, and what else had been implied.

Oh, this is ridiculous, she adjured herself at last. Forget about the wretched guy, and concentrate on tomorrow.

She supposed, glumly, that if Mrs Gladwin failed to arrive again she would be expected to cook the breakfast, and she would do so, but after that they could forage for themselves, because she was going to the coast with David.

They would have a seafood lunch in a pub, then walk along the beach, and talk seriously about fixing a date for the wedding. It had hardly been mentioned in recent weeks.

Three months ahead, she thought contentedly, would surely give Mrs Sanders plenty of time to move to her sister’s place.

When eventually she slept, it was to dream that her wedding day had come, and she was walking up the aisle of the village church on her father’s arm to her bridegroom, waiting at the altar.

But as she got nearer he turned his head, and she saw, instead of David’s ruggedly familiar and beloved face, a mask, blank and featureless. And, crying out with fear and grief, she fled, alone, back the way she had come.

The dream was still vivid in her mind when she woke. Nasty, she thought, shivering, then threw back the bedclothes. Nothing, especially a nightmare, would be allowed to cloud this lovely day.

She showered, and dressed casually in a knee-length denim skirt and a white short-sleeved top, then brushed her hair into a silky cloud on her shoulders.

Because she would soon be seeing David, she accentuated her eyes with grey shadow and mascara, and coloured her mouth with her favourite dusky rose lipstick before she went downstairs.

When she got to the kitchen she found to her relief that young Tim had recovered from his asthma attack, and Mrs Gladwin was there ahead of her, already assembling the ingredients for the kedgeree and cutting the rind off the bacon rashers.

‘I took Mr and Mrs Trentham’s tea up to them,’ Mrs Gladwin reported. ‘But I had to leave Miss Ellie’s tray outside her door, as I couldn’t make her hear me. And I didn’t know what to do about her visitor.’

‘I think he’d prefer coffee.’ Lou found the small cafetière and filled it. But she had no intention of taking Alex Fabian coffee in bed, she thought, her mouth tightening. That was Ellie’s task, and she could wake up and do it.

While she was waiting for the coffee to brew, she popped out into the yard and called David on her mobile, only to discover that his was switched off.

She pulled a face as she returned indoors. If she used the ordinary phone his mother was bound to answer, and be plaintive at the prospect of her boy spending time with anyone else.

But maybe David would call her instead before that happened.

When she went upstairs, she found Ellie’s tray still untouched outside her door.

Puzzled, she set the coffee down beside it and knocked. ‘Ellie—Ellie, wake up. Your tea’s getting cold.’

There was no answer, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door, and looked in.

But there was no blonde head lifting sleepily from the pillow. The bed was empty, and the room unoccupied.

And no prizes for guessing where Ellie was, Lou thought, feeling oddly embarrassed. That neatly made bed was a total giveaway. She must have decided to celebrate her engagement in the arms of her fiancé after all.

‘Everyone’s still asleep,’ she told Mrs Gladwin as she carried all the things back to the kitchen. ‘I’m going into the village to get the papers.’

She followed the previous night’s detour on the way back. The curtains were still firmly closed on the first floor of David’s house, but his car was missing from its usual parking spot outside.

He must have gone to the cottage to find me, Lou thought, her heart lifting. ‘We can have breakfast together.’

Yet there was no sign of his blue Peugeot at Virginia Cottage either. Instead, there was Alex Fabian, walking alone in the garden. He was the last person she’d expected to see so early, under the circumstances. And the last person she wanted to see, she amended quickly.

She hesitated, feeling strangely awkward, wondering if there was some way to evade him, but he had already seen her, so she had to reluctantly stand her ground.

‘Good morning,’ he said as he came up to her. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yes—thank you.’ She stared down at the gravel. ‘And—you?’

‘Not particularly,’ he said. ‘The coffee did its work too well.’

She gave a quick, forced smile. ‘I’m sure Ellie wouldn’t agree.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘And how does it concern her?’

‘I took her some morning tea,’ she said. ‘And her bed hadn’t been slept in. I—I drew the obvious conclusion.’

His hand closed on her arm. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded harshly. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

She stared up at him, bewildered. ‘Ellie wasn’t in her room this morning. I—I thought she was with you.’

‘I haven’t seen your sister,’ he said, ‘since nine-thirty yesterday evening, when she decided to have that extremely early night. And the last place she would ever be likely to spend the night is in my bed.’

He set off towards the house, taking Lou with him, whether or not she wished to go.

She tried to hang back. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation.’ She tried to think of one. ‘Perhaps she got up early, and went for a walk.’

‘Walking,’ he said, ‘is not one of her pastimes. Your sister believes in taxis, when chauffeur-driven cars aren’t available. I think you know that.’

‘Maybe there’s been some emergency at the office, and she’s had to go back to London.’ Lou clutched at a passing straw.

‘If so, I think they’d probably have sent for your father,’ he said. ‘And he’s still here.’

In the hall, Marian greeted Alex, all smiles. ‘Breakfast is ready, if you’d like to come into the dining room.’

He said, ‘Have you seen Ellie this morning, Mrs Trentham? Because Louise says her bed has not been slept in.’

Marian’s hand went to her throat. ‘Oh, what nonsense. I expect she was just too happy and excited to sleep.’

‘All the same, with your permission, I’d like to look in her room.’

Lou tried to detach herself from his grasp. ‘I’d rather not…’

‘I’m afraid you must,’ he said. ‘You can tell me if anything’s missing.’

My God, Lou thought as she followed him unwillingly upstairs. She’s done it. She’s decided she can’t go through with the engagement, and she’s run away. And, if that’s so, I should be delighted for her. So why do I feel so scared suddenly?

‘Well?’ Alex demanded as they stood in the middle of Ellie’s bedroom, looking round them.

Lou swallowed. ‘The case she brought down with her has gone.’ She opened the wardrobe, and looked in the drawers. ‘And she seems to have taken underwear and some clothes.’

‘And left these.’ His voice was suddenly grim.

Lou turned to see him holding two envelopes. ‘Where did you find them?’

‘Propped against the lamp on the night table,’ he said. ‘One for each of us.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure you want to open yours?’

‘Of course,’ Lou said indignantly. ‘I’m worried sick about her. I need to make sure she’s all right.’

‘I think you underestimate her sense of self-preservation,’ Alex Fabian said drily as he handed her the envelope.

Her name was a mere scrawl on its surface. Inside was a single sheet of paper. She could barely decipher the writing. ‘Lou, darling,’ she eventually translated, ‘I’m so terribly sorry. Please try to understand and forgive me.’

‘What does it say?’ Alex’s level voice reached her.

She turned and looked at him. He was holding his own letter, two pages of it, between thumb and forefinger as if he found it distasteful.

She said, ‘She wants me to forgive her—but for what? For running away?’

‘Not just for that, I’m afraid.’ He paused. ‘You see, she didn’t go alone.’

She saw something in his eyes that she had never expected to find there. Compassion. And it frightened her more than any coldness—any anger.

She tried to say ‘What do you mean?’ But, although her lips moved, the words would not emerge.

She heard a sound from the doorway, and looked round swiftly, praying it would be Ellie standing there. Ellie, saying it had all been a silly mistake, and here she was, safe and sound.

Only it was her father, his face like thunder.

‘Louise—Mrs Sanders has telephoned. Will you come and speak to her, please? She’s hysterical—out of control. I can’t make out what she’s saying. She keeps repeating “David and Ellie” over and over again. I think she must have gone mad.’

‘It would be convenient to think so.’ Alex Fabian stepped forward to station himself between Lou and her father. Shielding her white face, trembling mouth and wide, bewildered eyes.

‘But I’m afraid her hysterics are justified. My erstwhile fiancée has run away with her son, and they’re going to be married. She’s left me a letter, confessing everything.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ the older man said harshly. ‘It must be some sick joke. Good God, man, it was only last night she became engaged to you.’

‘Apparently that was the final straw,’ Alex told him calmly. ‘She and David Sanders had been in love for some time, but they’d tried to behave nobly for Louise’s sake—or some such maudlin nonsense. She went out with me to try and forget him, but when she realised marriage was on the agenda she decided she couldn’t go through with it after all, and appealed to Sanders to rescue her.

‘And—they eloped last night.’

Louise felt totally numb. Presently, she knew, there would be pain. But now there were images passing through her mind like some nightmare slide show. Ellie’s frantic phone call. Click. The dark house. Click. The empty space where David’s car should have been. Click. Until she wanted to scream.

‘Well, they won’t get away with it.’ Mr Trentham’s voice shook. ‘I’ll have them found. Make her come back.’

‘I hope you won’t do anything of the kind,’ Alex Fabian said coldly. ‘She’s not a young child. She’s a woman, and quite capable of making her own choices. Something we overlooked in our negotiations.’

‘Ellie?’ Marian Trentham had joined them now, her face ashen, her eyes blazing. ‘My beautiful girl with that—that buffoon? It can’t be true.’

Lou made a small sound in her throat, and Alex glanced at her sharply. He said, ‘Mrs Trentham, I think you’ve forgotten that Louise was engaged to David Sanders.’

‘I haven’t forgotten a thing,’ the older woman said shrilly. ‘It’s all her fault—encouraging him to hang round here, where he could meet my lovely Ellie. Of course he preferred her. What man wouldn’t?’

‘No,’ Alex said, studying her with cold dislike, ‘according to her letter, they met up in London when he was on some course. So Louise can’t possibly be blamed. In fact, she’s been subjected to the worst kind of betrayal by both of them.’

Betrayal. The word made Louise shiver, but it brought her back to life. And to unpleasant reality.

She heard herself say, ‘Mrs Sanders must still be waiting on the phone. I’d better go and talk to her.’

‘No.’ Alex halted her, his hand on her arm. ‘Your father can do that for you. Or your stepmother,’ he added curtly. ‘There’s no reason why you should be exposed to any more recriminations.’

Her father said hoarsely, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll go now. Though God knows what I can say…’

As he departed, muttering distractedly, Marian Trentham moved forward, her hands outstretched. ‘Alex, my dear.’ Her voice throbbed. ‘What you must be suffering.’

‘I don’t appreciate being made a fool of,’ Alex said tersely. ‘And your daughter’s defection is going to cause me immeasurable trouble and inconvenience. But please let’s drop the pretence that Ellie and I were ever in love with each other.’

For a moment she faltered, then she returned to the attack, forcing a smile.

‘You’re hurt,’ she said. ‘As you have every right to be. I do understand. But all is not yet lost. I think we should go downstairs and have some breakfast, and decide what to do next.’

‘I know exactly what I’m doing next,’ Alex said coldly. ‘I’m going back to London, and I’ll forgo your kind offer of breakfast. I’d prefer to be on my way as soon as possible.’

‘But there are matters outstanding,’ she said rapidly, her voice beginning to shake. ‘Things we need to discuss.’

‘You mean the re-financing plan? But that was dependent on certain conditions being met, so there is really very little to talk about.’

Louise could hear the words, but she could not grasp what they meant. They seemed to float past her. The room, too, suddenly seemed to be swimming.

She said in a stifled voice, ‘I—I think I’m going to be sick.’

During the miserable and humiliating minutes that followed, Louise was dimly aware of an arm supporting her as she retched violently into the lavatory bowl, of a hand smoothing back her hair, and wiping her face with a damp flannel.

‘You,’ she said shakily as she sat up at last, the tiles on the bathroom walls still swooping dizzily around her. ‘Oh, God, it’s you.’

‘Well, who else would it be?’ Alex Fabian retorted crushingly. ‘Your father’s still on the phone, being screamed at, and your stepmother’s shut herself into her bedroom. You needed help.’

‘You’re the last person I’d turn to for that.’ She got painfully to her feet. ‘If you hadn’t pressured Ellie to marry you, none of this would have happened.’

‘It would have eventually. A different set of circumstances, perhaps, but the same result.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re in love. They were always going to end up together. I was just the catalyst.’

She glared at him. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

‘That’s up to you. But I’d say it would be a pretty refined kind of hell to find you’d married a man who wanted someone else. Here, drink this.’

Unwillingly Lou accepted the glass of water he held out to her. She’d just caught a horrified glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror—her ghost-white face streaked with mascara, her lipstick smeared. The pretty, confident picture she’d painted for David totally ruined. Like her life.

Not only did she look like hell, she thought, writhing inwardly, but she’d just thrown up in front of a man she detested.

She said stiltedly, ‘I think I’d like to be alone now.’

‘Just as you wish.’ He paused. ‘I’ll have some tea brought up to you.’

‘Tea?’ Her voice rose. ‘My heart is broken, and you offer me—bloody clichés.’

‘It’s also the classic remedy for shock,’ he returned, unperturbed. ‘And hearts are more resilient than you think. Would you like me to help you to your room?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘And stop behaving like someone out of a medical drama. Because the best thing you could do for me would be to get out of my sight, and my life.’

‘I think,’ Alex Fabian said quietly, ‘that’s something that could be open to discussion. But possibly not at this moment.’

‘Not ever,’ Lou said fiercely. ‘So—please go.’

She turned away, and began to run hot water into the basin, and when she glanced around again she was alone. Which was something she would have to get accustomed to, she realised, wretchedness stabbing her as she washed her face.

With the worst ravages removed, she went back to her room and threw herself across the bed, digging clenched fists into the coverlet.

Love must indeed be blind, she thought, because she’d never had the slightest idea that David might be looking elsewhere. She’d always felt so happy and comfortable with him, and on the surface everything had seemed just the same.

Yet, she supposed, there had been clues for anyone with a suspicious mind. The fact that David no longer talked about the wedding had been one. And he’d been more preoccupied than usual lately, although he’d blamed problems at work for that.

And Ellie hadn’t been the same either, dating Alex Fabian with such feverish, determined enjoyment. As if trying to convince herself that they could have a life together.

You fool, she told herself. You complacent, trusting idiot.

She could sense the tears gathering inside her, threatening to fill the ache of emptiness. And pain was prowling, too, waiting to sink its claws into her heart and mind.

The tap at her door sent her bolt upright, looking apprehensively over her shoulder. But it was only Mrs Gladwin bringing the threatened tea. Her face was solemn, but her eyes, understandably, were sparking with curiosity.

‘No one wanted any breakfast,’ she said. ‘So I’ve had to throw all that lovely food away. It seems a wicked waste.’ She paused. ‘I’ve cleared up the kitchen, so if I’m not wanted for anything else…?’

Lou realised wearily that she was asking to be paid. She forced a smile. ‘That’s fine, Mrs Gladwin, and thank you.’ She found her bag, and handed over the cash.

Mrs Gladwin lingered. ‘Next weekend, Miss Louise? Will the family be down?’

Lou looked at her blankly. ‘I—I really don’t know.’ Nor did she care, she thought. And how absurd to think that life could just—go on. For anyone to assume that she would go on living in this house—in this village—with all the dead hopes, dead memories. When everyone must know that was quite impossible.

When she knew, beyond all doubt, that she had to get away—and fast. Leave it all behind her, and escape.

She said quietly, ‘I’m sure my stepmother will be in touch over the arrangements. Thank you for the tea.’

‘The cup that cheers,’ said Mrs Gladwin, nodding portentously, and departed.

Louise looked at the tray, with its snowy lace cloth and the pretty flowered crockery. Another act of kindness, she thought, amid the personal desolation that was beginning to tear at her. But, again, from the wrong person. She did not want Alex Fabian’s kindness. She could not bear the thought of it.

She went on staring until the outlines of cup, saucer, jug and teapot lost their separate shapes, and became oddly blurred. Until the first scalding, agonised tears began to sear their way down her face, falling faster and faster.

She began to sob, making small, desperate, uncontrollable noises, pressing her hands over her eyes so that the salty drops squeezed through her fingers. She could feel grief burn in her throat, and taste it on her icy lips.

At some moment, still weeping, she stripped off the skirt and top and threw them across the room, shuddering as if they were rank—rancid. Knowing she never wanted to see them again as long as she lived.

She went to the wardrobe, dragged out a pair of black jeans and a round-necked sweater in fine grey wool, and pulled them onto her body.

She found her soft leather travel bag, and began hurriedly to fill it with underwear, more trousers and casual tops, flat shoes.

Escape, she thought, the word echoing like a mantra in her brain. Escape…

But where could she go?

There was Somerset, she thought. She could stay with her aunt and uncle, and find kindness with them. Use their farm as a sanctuary while she tried to decide what she could do with the rest of her life.

On her way downstairs, she paused outside the main bedroom and tapped on the door.

Her father opened it. ‘What is it?’ He looked at her bag. ‘Is it Ellie? Has she come back?’

‘No,’ she said, wincing. ‘That’s—not going to happen, Dad. But I’m going away for a while.’

‘But she must come back,’ he said. He looked past her. ‘You don’t realise how serious all this is. It was part of the deal with Fabian, and he’s walked out on us. We need that injection of capital, or the business could go under. We could lose everything.’

Lou stared at the man in front of her, and wondered when he had first become a stranger.

She said, ‘I think you already have lost everything. At least everything that matters.’ She paused. ‘I’ll be in touch—some time.’

She went out of the cottage the back way, feeling fresh tears springing up as she realised how much of her life she was leaving behind. Yet knowing at the same time that she had no other choice.

She’d expected—hoped—maybe even prayed that Alex Fabian would be long gone. But there was to be no respite for her on this merciless day.

Because, as she came out into the yard, he was there, loading his own bag into the boot of his car.

She checked instantly, wondering if she could duck back into the house before he saw her. But it was too late.

He was already straightening, turning to look at her, the green eyes curiously intent.

‘So there you are,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’