Deciding not to ask why Thursday was an issue – if her immediate suspicion of an early pregnancy scan was correct, they probably didn’t want to share that with everyone yet – Cristy said, ‘I’ll check with Meier to see if it works. I think he’s planning to come back himself on Saturday, so it might.’
‘If not, I can come with,’ Clove offered.
Cristy smiled, but she was immediately distracted by the images Jacks had now sent to her phone: two vibrant, super healthy-looking young people with a remarkable resemblance to one another and to their mother, Nicole. She scrutinized the faces for any signs of Meier – the colour of their eyes, shapes of their faces or mouths – but there was nothing to mark them out as being related to him. Or to Johan Bauer, come to that, although she wasn’t as familiar with his features. Anyway, some children didn’t resemble their parents at all, so there was no more to be drawn from this than the bewildering and even heartwarming fantasy of Noah and Abigail still being alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
On Thursday morning, Cristy took the 1125 flight to Geneva, and by two-thirty – allowing for the hour time-difference – she was on a train heading along the lakeshore towards Vevey. Although it wasn’t the first time she’d made this journey – she’d travelled to Montreux on a couple of occasions in the past with Matthew – the stunning landscape was even more mesmerizing than she remembered. The shimmering blue of the water, the hazy drift of sunlight and the snowy Alps on the opposite shore was so dazzling and dreamlike it was impossible to look away.
She’d come alone in the end; Clove and Jacks had gone to Bryn Helyg to take advantage of Meier not being around, and Connor hadn’t been able to change his and Jodi’s appointment.
‘I really don’t think it’s a trap,’ she’d protested, when Harry had tried to argue her out of it. ‘For heaven’s sake, you all know where I’m going, and he’s made no secret of where his brother lives or the hotel he’s booked me into for the night. Anyway, I’ll have my phone; I’ll put the tracker on so you’ll know where I am at any given second of the day, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll call every hour on the hour.’
She wouldn’t, obviously, nor would they expect it; she’d just wanted to make the point that she wasn’t worried about this visit and they shouldn’t be either.The Quinns – honestly!Sometimes, it was worse than having parents, although she’d give almost anything to have hers back, so maybe Harry and Meena’s fussing wasn’t so bad. And fortunately, it hadn’t annoyed her, which could mean, fingers crossed, that the HRT was starting to kick in.
Dream on, she groaned to herself, as her entire body, as if on cue, started to heat up – to a degree that soon made her desperate to put her head out of the window, even if it meant risking it being smashed off her shoulders by an oncoming train.
Eventually, the hot flush passed, and though she really didn’t want to miss out on a single second of the stunning scenery, she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.
She must have dozed for a while, because the next thing she knew, they were pulling into Lausanne station where she needed to change for the connection to Vevey.
It didn’t take long – how smoothly everything seemed to run here, and how clean it was too – and after finding herself another window seat, she settled down to begin mentally preparing herself for what might lie ahead. Now that she was drawing closer, she was starting to wonder about the sanity of being in this impossibly romantic setting with Meier on her own, given how attracted she’d felt to him while in Wales. There was no reason to think it would be any different here, and now she was asking herself if, on some level, she’d actually wanted to come alone, and maybe it was what he wanted too. Hadn’t he said,Would you consider joining me?No mention of Connor, but nor had he pushed back when she’d assumed he’d meant them both.
There was no doubt he was an almost impossible man to read, especially given the muddled perspective she was currently trying to operate through. Did everyone suffer with an uncontrollable and totally inappropriate libido during menopause? It didn’t matter; she wasn’t so far out of controlthat she’d allow some wild hormone rush to turn her into someone else completely, and that’s who she’d be if she ended up in bed with a man she was currently investigating and who she didn’t altogether trust anyway.
Didn’t she trust him?
Maybe knowing he was deeply in love with someone else was what would save her from making a fool of herself with some kind of rebound affair?
For God’s sake, why was she even thinking about this when it couldn’t be further from the reason she was here?
Checking her mobile as it rang, her heart turned over so sharply it stole her breath and actually hurt. For a moment, she considered not answering. She was completely unprepared for this, had no idea what to say, had longed for the call so much that she was now half-afraid she was imagining it.
Clicking on, she said, ‘Hi. This is a surprise.’
‘How are you?’ David asked. ‘Not in the UK by the sound of the ringtone.’
‘Switzerland. Where are you?’
‘At home. Can we talk?’
‘Now? I’m on a train …’
In a tone that wasn’t readable, although definitely not hostile, he said, ‘I can come to Bristol when you’re back.’
It was what she wanted more than anything, had been actually praying for it, and she’d be prepared by then, would know exactly how to handle things, so why wasn’t she saying yes?
‘Can I call you when … I’m not sure how much more we have to put into the series and …’
‘It’s OK. I can wait. Just let me know when it’s best for you.’
After ringing off, she stared out of the window, no longer registering the spectacular terraced vineyards cascading down the hillsides or how the train slowed going through Saint-Saphorin station. She was waiting for a rush of euphoria or simply relief that he’d finally got in touch, and she guessed both were there somewhere, but it seemed to be worrying her too, and for the moment, she wasn’t sure why.
An hour and a half later she was strolling along the lakeside promenade with Meier. He’d met her from the train and taken her to the stupendously grand Hotel du Lac – a shining example of thebelle époquestyle that exuded all the sublime elegance and charm of its era. The uniformed staff had shown her to a lake-view room, and after giving her time to relax and freshen up after her journey, Meier had returned.
Now, with the surreal golden glow of a slowly setting sun turning the Alps on the opposite shore into another kind of wonderland, and the water into a mirror of gently changing colour, she was telling him about the call from David – only because he’d asked, having apparently picked up on some of her inner turmoil. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have mentioned it.
He really was unnervingly perceptive.
