At the barrier, he put his case on the floor and turned to face her. They’d already agreed not to kiss or hug at the busy terminal but he took her hand. “Millie, ask me to stay. I’ll resign and stay herewith you.”
The man was upside down. He wouldn’t commit to a date for his return but was willing to throw his entire life for her?
It was a very tempting idea though. Stupid, but tempting, especially when he looked at her like --
Instead she laughed again. “No, don’t sabotage your career for me. Then you’ll blame me later, and I’m done with being blamed. But—” she smiled to lighten the mood. “I have something else toask you.”
“Anything.”
“George, I need you to ....” She kept her eyes down in case the anger in his face stopped her. “Can you think about a way to make friends with your father?”
She’d been dreading this topic. The subject of his father was a nuclear button for George. But this relationship had to be mended; otherwise he’d never have peace. “He’s not a bad man, not now. It would make me happy if you could reconcile. For me? Please?”
She finally lifted her eyes to his face. Which lookedsurprised.
“That’s whatyou want?”
He wasn’t angry.Thank God.
“Well, I was going to ask you to unmelt the polar ice caps and solve the conflict in the Middle East. But—”
“You wanted something really big for your birthday.” He brushed the hair away from her face. “You do know usually a woman asks for Jewellery?”
She laughed. “Yes but I’m not like other women,remember?”
“Of course I remember, and no you’re not like anyone else.” His eyes burned
The loudspeaker warned them the gate was about to shut. He moved in closer and reached for her.
She looked around at the station full of people, staff, crew, the newspaper stand…She stepped back from him. There was no point undoing a week of careful privacy.
She offered him her hand again which he held in both of his, “Comeback soon”
“I promise.” Hewhispered
A week later. La Canette, afternoon.
Never before had Millie craved alone time like she did now. And at no time in her life was it harder to be alone. A week had passed since George had left, and she had a heap of memories of their time together to think about.
Henry had forced her to live on crumbs of affection, an emotional famine. Now she had a banquet of exciting passionate moments to remember, and she needed time to digest this feast. If only people would leaveher alone.
Even when cataloguing Du Montfort’s books, a task that surely didn’t require explanation, the old man had his eyes on her as if she were a school-girl learning to fly a plane. And he wasn’t theonlyone. Ann kept asking her if she wasall right.
She’d be a lot more all right if she had a quiet moment to let her mind drift. George had sent her another text message yesterday, and she’d only read it ten or eleven times. Not nearly enough.
Existing on a diet of coffee, ham sandwiches and government directives. Whenever I lose patience, I—
“Do you need a break?” Du Montfort broke into her thoughts. “It’s a tedious job, I know.”
Why was he so solicitous? She swallowed her irritation. He was being nice, and to be fair, she’d been staring into the middle distance for ten minutes.
“Sorry.” She dragged her attention, kicking and screaming, back to listing the works of nineteenth-century British philosophers.
George’s two text messages made her phone weigh heavily in her pocket, demanding to be taken out and read again. Shame she couldn’t reply; something to do with how they were sent through iCloud. When she tried texting back, it failed to send.
He hadn’t given her his mobile number or his email, and unless she was going to ask someone in the house—no. No. If he’d wanted her to contact him, he’d have given her the details himself. A commitment not offered freely wasworthless.
A spontaneous text he sent her out of the blue because he just happened to think about her, nowthatwas worththe world.
