Laura’s mind struggled to find another explanation. That it was some random woman chasing him. Everyone had said…
She turned to look at Adam. He should have been laughing at the stupid accusation.
Or angry.
Or confused.
He was none of these things.
He looked…guilty.
He stood frozen and silent. And guilty.
She didn’t ask for his explanation. She might have but not with Nicole watching; she’d sooner die than give her the satisfaction.
So those were the calls, it was his wife looking for him.
Laura walked away, pushed the doors and went out into the bright sun.
How could the sun be so bright, how dare the sky look so blue when her world was collapsing?
Too much. It was too much. She ran down the path, away from the doors, away from what was behind the doors. Her ruined dress and her ruined everything.
III
Floating Chiffon
Chapter Thirty-Four
He didn’t knowwhere Laura had gone but something told him she would be going home to pack. Laura wasn’t the woman to stick around and suffer more humiliation. Certainly, she wouldn’t wait around hoping for a reconciliation. He remembered her telling him about donating her own wedding dress to charity and cutting off her hair.
His wife…He swallowed around the familiar, choking lump in his throat. His wife would have followed him and forced him to talk, traded accusations and begged for a resolution.
Not Laura.
If he had any hope of talking to her, he’d better catch her before she packed her bags and sailed off the island.
So, when Pierre and Millie suggested he go home, he did. He took a bike from the rack and cycled as fast as he could, and ten minutes later, he was in front of Du Montfort Hall.
He leapt off the bike, not even bothering to slot it into the rack. He was through the door and into the foyer.
No sign of Laura.
He ran up the stairs towards her room. As he reached the first landing, Mrs B came out of the office.
“Oh Adam, glad I caught you. There’s a phone call for you.”
“Have you seen Laura?” he asked, breathing hard.
“Laura? No. But there’s a gentleman on the phone for you.”
The last thing Adam wanted was to take calls from God only knew who. “Could you take a message, please?”
Mrs B shook her head. “He’s rung several times this morning and says it’s urgent.”
Adam forced himself to stop. It wasn’t the housekeeper’s job to field his phone calls. “Who is it?”
“A Mr Gerald Sale, says you know him.”
