Amy was baffled, but something that felt scarily like hope flickered to life in her chest. Meg had said she thought Sam and Tilly were all business … Had she been right?
‘He didn’t,’ Amy said. ‘But I’ll sign the form. What channel is the documentary for?’
‘BBC One!’ Tilly grinned. ‘And it should get mentions onThe One ShowandBreakfast, as well as a write-up on the website and presence on iPlayer. I’mveryexcited about it.’
Amy quickly took a wad of paperwork from Tilly, filling in all the fields she’d helpfully marked with crosses for participants’ signatures.
‘I already have forms from Sam and the rest of the dance troupe,’ Tilly said as Amy scribbled away. ‘I can’t believe he never mentioned this … Still. I suppose you’ve had other things to talk about,’ she smiled.
Amy shot her a look. ‘Such as …?’
‘Old times! The future! He and I wereuselessas a couple but we were always good friends. He told me all about you one evening not too long ago. Said he’d been mad about you since you were children. Since he wassixteen!’
At the look on Amy’s face, Tilly’s confidence and enthusiasm waned. ‘I thought you’d, ah, rekindled a lost love via working on this project …?’ she asked.
‘It’s not quite that simple,’ Amy told her. But something about Tilly’s rash, unthinking openness– and the phrase ‘since he was sixteen’– struck Amy as significant. She thought back to her old theory on the interconnectedness of posh people: how the usual six degrees of separation shrank to three or even two, depending on how wealthy you were.
‘Tilly,’ she said, in a more polite tone than she’d managed up to now. ‘Do you happen to know Hugh Howard?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Tilly said. ‘Met him at a gathering a few weeks back in Mayfair. Charming chap. I couldn’t believe he was involved in organising RomFest! I told him I’d been filming up here for a documentary I was working on, and the conversation came round to the festival. I couldn’t help telling him how lovely I thought it was that an event designed to celebrate romantic fiction had brought two childhood sweethearts back together! Though Sam has refused to let me putthatin the programme, the absolute shit.’
Amy sighed, half relieved, half exasperated. Tilly and Sam weren’t sleeping together. It was Tilly who’d inadvertently told Hugh there was something going on between Sam and Amy. It all made sense, but– once again– not in the way she might have expected it to. The hope she could feel glimmering somewhere inside her ribcage burned brighter.
She signed a final form, then thrust the papers and pen back into Tilly’s arms.
‘Tilly, I’m really sorry, but I have to go.’
‘Oh. Where?’ Tilly asked, surprised by Amy’s sudden urgency.
‘There’s something I have to do. Someone I have to see,’ Amy said.
As she strode off, she pulled her phone out of her bag and messaged Kit:
At the top of the roller coaster. Going to go down screaming. Wish me luck x
Before she could stow it away again, his reply came through:
You don’t need it. I love you. And FWIW: based on that dance, so does he x
Chapter 30
Amy had never told anyone she loved them before– not in the way she was planning to tell Sam.
She wasn’t sure how she’d start: whether she should apologise for their last conversation before trying to explain herself fully, or just launch right in with three, unambiguous little words that left no room for misinterpretation.
Amy and Sam had never been very good at calm, sincere discussion … Maybe keeping it simple was the best way to go. But what if he still didn’t want to talk to her? What if he refused to listen, no matter what she said?
Amy hurried around the festival site, in and out of tents and the remnants of merchandise stands. She even knocked on the doors of all the Portaloos.
She couldn’t find him, but resolved to keep on looking.
An hour later, as the last trade vehicles made their way down the Hall driveway and back onto the road, Amy stopped for breath. Everyone had gone home.
Meg and Pearl had left hours ago. Ken and Grace had gone back to the cottage at around the same time, while Barbara, Dave, Simon, Nisha and Kit had announced their decision to head to the Oak after Philippa’s talk. The place was totally deserted, and it finally dawned on Amy that Sam was gone, too. He’d sloped off without speaking to her– hadn’t wanted to celebrate RomFest’s success with her, even for a moment.
She picked up her things– her handbag, jacket and the garment bag with her costume in it– and decided it was time to admit defeat.Her chest felt like it was caving in, her heart collapsing into nothingness like a dying star.
It was getting on for eight o’clock but it was still very light, and the summer air was warm on her bare legs– clad in elegant, black linen shorts, worn with a broderie anglaise blouse made of cream cotton. She began walking but her feet refused to travel in the direction of the car park. Instead, she found herself moving towards the wood at the edge of the estate.
