‘Now is not the time to discuss my marriage.’
‘It never is,’ she muttered. Then: ‘I must go.’
‘Not like this.’
‘I have a train to catch.’
‘I know you do. But I don’t want you so far away feeling badly towards me.’
‘I’m going to Suffolk, not the ends of the earth.’
‘It might just as well be.’
‘Then do as I ask and drop everything and come with me.’
‘This is family time for you,’ he said, ‘I’d be in the way.’
‘You’d be there to support me.’ She cringed. There she went again, showing her shameful need.
‘Hope will be fine. And so will you. You’re one of the strongest people I know.’
‘How do you know she’ll be fine?’ Annelise snapped. ‘You have no idea how badly hurt she is. And for God’s sake, stop treating me as if I were a child!’
‘Then stop acting like one!’
There. Finally she had provoked him into saying something that wasn’t a worthless platitude.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I think you did. I think that’s the first thing you’ve said in a long time that you’ve truly meant.’
‘Annelise, you’re upset. It’s understandable. You’ve had a terrible shock. Let’s not argue. Catch your train and we’ll talk when you’re back in Oxford.’
‘What would be the point?’ she said. Before he had a chance to reply, she hung up.
The train journey felt interminable.
Every mile covered ofclackety-clack track made her throbbing head ache all the more. It had started in the taxi ride from St Gertrude’s to the station and worsened tenfold once she was on the train out of the city. Since changing trains on the last leg of the journey, a large man who had taken the seat next to her kept falling asleep and leaning into her. Several times she’d had to shove him back into his seat, inciting a loud snore from his gaping mouth.
The heating was turned up too high – the source of it was coming from the metal heating grille beneath her seat – and she longed to open the window, but daren’t. It had started to rain earlier and aruddy-cheeked woman in a thick tweed coat had slammed it shut, and with a defiance that challenged anyone to open it again.
After stopping at yet another train station, an elderly man now joined them in the carriage, and tipping his hat with a smile, stowing his umbrella and loosening his scarf and coat, he revealed himself to be a man of the cloth. He then proceeded to light up a pipe, drawing on it with zeal.
Within minutes the fug of smoke was making Annelise nauseous. Oh, how she bitterly regretted that she had not received the news about Mums earlier so she could have travelled home last night. But she had been at a formal dinner at St Hilda’s and hadn’t returned to her rooms in college until nearly midnight. Had she not gone out, she would have received Stanley’s message in time to travel home at once. All she could do at that time of night was ring the hospital and speak to Edmund. The grave concern in his voice had meant she hadn’t slept a wink all night. At two in the morning, and unable to speak to the one person she wanted to – Harry – she had rung Stanley. ‘I couldn’t sleep either,’ he had said when she apologised for disturbing him. It had felt good to hear his voice and comforted by it, she had thanked him for finding Hope. ‘It’s Tucker who deserves the credit,’ he’d said.
‘But had you and Romily not braved the storm to look for her, Mums may well have died in that ditch.’ Annelise was determined he should accept her gratitude.
As soon as she was up and dressed, and too sick with worry to eat breakfast, she had gone in search of the Dean to request compassionate leave. Dr Spriggs was kindness itself and told her it was almost the end of term anyway, so she was to take as much leave as she required.
The fug of smoke in the confined space was now causing Annelise’s head to throb all the more. And with bile rising in her throat and desperate for some fresh air, she stood up, took down her suitcase from the overhead rack and slid open the compartment door and escaped.
Moving along the corridor, and finding most of the other carriages full, she gave up looking for a seat. With only twenty minutes of the journey left, she set her case down on the floor and stood next to a grimy window. The glass was so filthy she could only just see out of it at the passing scenery, the rain blurring the fields and houses. But at least she could open it and breathe in the damp cold air.
She closed her eyes and as the nausea and bile receded, she tried to focus on Hope, on willing her to regain consciousness, and for her injuries not to belife-threatening. But every time she attempted to corral her thoughts, Harry’s voice intruded, his words echoing the rhythm of the train tracks.
I’d do anything to be with you ... I’d do anything to be with you ... I’d do anything to be with you ...
He had said a variation on the theme of this many times since their relationship had begun. Sincetheir affairhad begun, Annelise corrected herself.
