“P— Pierce?”
Hardwicke almost winced. No one had called him by his given name for a long time. At the agency, it was always his family name,Hardwicke, ever since he’d been a junior agent. It wasn’t something he’d ever insisted on, but somehow, it had stuck, and he’d decided to just go with it. It seemed easier, somehow – at work, he could shed the memories of the life he could have had with Celeste, and just become someone else: Hardwicke, the perfect agent, and then the strict, no-nonsense boss who ran his team with an iron fist.
NotPierce; or at least, not Pierce in the way Celeste had used to say his name, her voice soft and full of what he’d thought was – or wanted to be – love.
Hearing it again now sent a maelstrom of emotions tearing through him. How could he see her again now, after all this time, knowing that he’d never stopped loving her, never stopped thinking of her? What could he say to her? Whatwasthere to say?
“Itisyou, Pierce.” Celeste sounded breathless as she slowly made her way toward him, her eyes open wide. “I knew it – I don’t think I could ever forge— I mean, you haven’t really changed much at all. I just had the weirdest feeling, and then –” She stopped suddenly, cutting herself off, a shadow of doubt crossing her face. “ItisPierce, isn’t it? I haven’t just made a complete idiot out of myself, have I?”
“No, no, of course you haven’t.” Hardwicke finally forced his tongue and lips to work, wanting to reassure her that no, there’d been no mistake. “It’s me, Celeste. I just… never expected to see you here, of all places.”
Celeste laughed, but it sounded a little strained. “I know – what are the odds, right? Though it seems like Portsmith has been becoming more and more popular with holidaymakers recently. I guess it’s pretty isolated, if that’s what you’re into.” She blinked, swallowing. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I guess you could say that,” Hardwicke said, aware he wasn’t being entirely truthful – and at once, his pegasus reared up inside him, snorting indignantly.
Tell her now! Tell her everything!it demanded.
I can’t do that. I don’t know her circumstances, what she’s doing now. She might be married and have children – I can’t just barge in and make demands on her, or try to tear her life apart. If she’s found happiness since we knew each other, then I have no right to disturb that.
Hardwicke found it difficult to believe that Celeste would have remained unmarried in all these years – she was beautiful, after all, kind, generous, and sweet-natured. He’d known all of that about her, and had been able to see it at a glance. Surely someone else must have seen those things in her too, and fallen in love.
Whoever he is, he’s the luckiest man alive,Hardwicke thought, with more than a little twinge of envy. From the raging splutter his pegasus gave, he knew it was only just stopping itself short of suggesting he go and find the man Celeste was married to and challenge him to a duel over the woman they loved – but thankfully Hardwicke’s words about Celeste’s happiness coming first seemed to have restrained it, if only just.
“Oh, are you here for a long or a shorttime, then?” Celeste asked, biting her lip as she spoke, as if she hadn’t been meaning to ask.
“Not too long,” Hardwicke replied. “Just long enough to –”
He glanced around suddenly. He’d meant to pat his hand on the handle of his wheeled suitcase, which was small enough to show he hadn’t packed for a long stay. But when he lowered his hand, it found nothing but empty air.
Confused, he turned his head – just in time to see his suitcase, propelled by the wind, go zooming down the driveway beside his rented cottage, down the path that ran through the sparse garden, and then crash into the back fence. But this wasn’t enough to stop it, and the suitcase spun up into the air on impact, tossing in the wind… before sailing over the edge of the cliff that lay beyond the garden gate, and then presumably plummeting into the churning ocean below.
Hardwicke stared. He’d only taken his hand off the suitcase for a moment!
Well, I’m so glad we drove here, since I was so manifestly unable to carry the luggage that you have just hurled from a cliff,his pegasus said huffily.
And unfortunately, Hardwicke knew he’d have to concede that point to it.
“Oh dear,” Celeste said, following his gaze. “Was that, uh, your luggage?”
Hardwicke could hear just thetiniestamount of suppressed laughter in her voice – and, he had to admit, itwaskind of funny.Kindof.
“I’m afraid so. I guess I’ll be re-wearing things a bit more than I’d planned on doing,” Hardwicke said, shaking his head. “Or I’ll have to go shopping.”
“I think you might be out of luck for now,” Celeste said, and again, the smallest of laughs bubbled up in her voice – just the way Hardwicke remembered it had used to. The thought sent a pang of longing through his chest. “It’s Sunday – and hardly anything is open in Portsmith on a Sunday. You just missed the supermarket’s opening hours. And the one and only clothes shop doesn’t open at all. Not until Tuesday, actually.”
“Right. I see.” Well, it seemed that he’d just have to put up with wearing the clothes he drove here wearing for the next couple of days. Which, fastidious as he was, didn’t really make Hardwicke feel all that happy.
Not to mention how difficult it’s going to be to keep my mind on the investigation if Celeste is here too…
Now that his head had cleared a little, Hardwicke found himself wondering about the coincidence of it all. But then, Celeste had spoken as if she was very familiar with the town and the quirks of its opening hours – was she only vacationing here, or did she know it better than that?
Is this where she’s been all these years?
“You sound as if you know the place well,” Hardwicke said, not sure whether he should ask any more direct questions. Just because Celeste had recognized him, spoken to him, didn’t mean she might feel comfortable talking a lot about her life with someone she’d had what was – probably to her mind – a brief love affair with twenty years ago.
“Well, in fact I do,” Celeste said, after a short pause. “I live here. I’ve lived here for… for a while now.”
Although she was still smiling, there was something a little guarded about her answer that made Hardwicke decide not to push things. It would even be better if shedidn’treally want to have much to do with him – he had a case to investigate, and he didn’t need his head clouded with thoughts of what might have been, or to get distracted every time she was in view. Things were already going to be difficult enough. How could he keep his mind on the job when she was suddenly once again so close to him, after so many years apart? How was he supposed to do his job when his heart was racing, his soul writhing within him, his pegasus demanding they confess everything to her immediately?
