The next morning. Brighton, 6:30am
“I have the right to refuse service to any customer if I don’t like them.” A familiar voice spoke as he sipped his coffee.
“Hello, Joanie.” He smiled at her.
She huffed. “You know you won’t always be young and handsome.” She pulled a chair and sat down at his table. “There will come a day when this smile won’t get youanywhere.”
The café was still empty at 6:30 in the morning. “Does she work here, too?”he asked.
“Who?”
“It’s not a time for games, Joanie.” He made himself icy calm, one of his tricks to get the answershe needed.
But Joanie wasn’t impressed. “No? I thought you were playing a game of hide and seek with us for eight months.”
“I’m not playing now.”
“And we were supposed to wait until you’re good and ready?”
He exhaled and tried to hide his frustration. This was not going to be easy. His eyes travelled around the small café. The kitchen area was visible through a large hatch; there was one young kitchen assistant chopping things but no one else. He looked back at Joanie and heldher gaze.
She crossed her arms and glared back but eventually broke eye contact. “You know you should wear dark glasses. Those eyes are like weapons. You can hurt people.”
Hurt people.He dragged in a breath to ease the ache. “Please, Joanie.”
She huffed loud enough for people in the street to hear and finally looked at him. “No, she’s not here. Says the big franchise expansion is not for her, and she’s just happy living in her little café. It’s only last month she even bought furniture and a bed. She used to sleep on a mattress on the floor.”
Hope surged in George’s chest. A hundred questions fought their way to his lips. “Why didn’t she marry my father?”
Joanie looked daggers at him. “Why didn’t you read your emails?”
“Whathappened?”
“There’s nothing between her and theold man.”
His heart was thumping hard enough to break through his ribs. “But he gave her the, the—I saw the deeds.”
“It was a present foryourgirlfriend, nothis. We were celebrating—”
George needed lots of answers,now. “My father knewabout us?”
“Boeph.” Joanie shrugged with contempt. “Allof us knew about you. From the very beginning. Love is like pregnancy, impossible to hide. The way your eyes followed Millie. We were all waiting for you to pop the question. And then you broke her heart and called her horrible names.”
Realization, hot and cold, washed over George. Memories long held back now exploded within him.
“You know,” Joanie continued, “she is so much better than you. Because in all this time, she never said one bad word about you, although you deserved every bad word in the language.” She looked like she had more to say, but the door swung open to let in a middle-aged couple.
George waited for her to greet them and take their order. But waiting was worse than sitting on pins and needles. He didn’t even say goodbye to Joanie; he simply got up, went to his car and put his foot down, speeding through Saturday morning traffic out ofthe city.
Deserved every bad word in thelanguage.
Yes, and a few more besides.
He drove onto the A23 and propped his hand on the steering wheel as he checked the sat-nav.Take M27 to Chichester, then Bournemouth, and finally Poole.A three-hour journey.
George did it in two. Speed cameras could go to hell.
Same Day. La Canette, 7pm
