“Poppycock,” Ann said. “Are you going to give up your dream because of him?”
Mrs B took Millie’s hand. “Master George did wrong, a terrible wrong. We know that. But this new wrong, you are doing toyourself.”
“Pretty eyes or no pretty eyes,” Joanie said. “Are you going to give him your future even after what he did?”
Joanie’s delicious supper lay untouched. Ann pushed her plate away. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you’ve learnt nothing from your divorce if you are going to let another man come between you and your dreams.”
“Okay. Don’t all gang up on me.” She looked at their faces. They would not give up. “Fine, I’ll think about it. Now don’t let Joanie’s frittata go to waste.”
It worked, they let the subject lie.
At least for now.
Five days later. La Canette
Millie left the house very early on one of the bicycles from the rack outside the house. Less than two hours later, she crossed the isthmus and stood on the hill to watch the cool October sun shine weakly on Blue Sage Bay. She was afraid, and part of her wanted to turn and run from this. Run from the part of her self that she didn’t want to let out.
Her feet were hesitant as she made herself walk to the jetty, down the boardwalk and finally to the cottage.
The door had been propped shut just as they had left it on that morning two and a half months ago. She stepped inside carefully, as if afraid of waking a sleeping baby. The tins she had placed to catch rainwater were still there, dotted around the floor.
She was terrified, but she searched for her courage and held on to it like the hand of a guardian angel. Then she walked into the back room. Her towel still lay crumpled on the floor by the ashes spilling from the fire grate. To the side, the blanket they had huddled under. She looked and kept on looking. Slowly, the memories came. His warmth, his smell, the feel of his rough chin on the back of her neck. The sound of his laughter. Memories that cut like razor blades.
Blue Sage Bay was deserted as usual. No one heard her. It was why she had come here, to let the storm break.
To see if it wouldsink her.
The same day. London.
George’s finger pressed a button on the internal phone. “Vicky? Can you come in here for a second, please?”
She walked in and shut the door, then sat opposite, her knees together, and waited for himto speak.
“I am grateful for your help, you and all the admin staff for facilitating a smooth transition. I might be away for a long time, and I’ll only come here for flying visits. So I am relying on you to hold everyonetogether.”
“Of course.” She kept hereyes down.
“Vicky?”
Shelooked up.
“You’re getting married soon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, November, then two weeks’ honeymoon in Málaga.”
“Call my travel agent and ask him to book you somewhere very nice and put the invoice through myexpenses.”
Vicky’s face broke into a surprised smile. “Are you sure? That’s awfully decent of you. Thank you.”
“I am sorry I’ve been difficult recently.”Difficult? Tyrant, more like, barking at anyone who came close.“Would you organize something for the staff, maybe a West End show and dinner? They can bring their partners.” He could throw money at the problem and smooth ruffled feathers. “Make it next week after I’ve gone.” He didn’t need to be there to watch happy couples enjoying themselves.
Vicky got up to leave, but then hesitated at the door.Loitering with intensityagain. “George?” She had that look. “I’m sorry, can I just say something?”
He took a deep breath and held it. “Not now, Vicky.”
Vicky pressed her lips on whatever words she’d been aboutto speak.
Would there ever be a time when he could listen to her motivational quotes? Would there ever be a time when he could understand?
