Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ We’re not in touch. Last I heard from her was a text wishing me luck and saying not to contact her any more.’

      ‘Do you mind?’

      ‘Nope. There’s a girl…well, anyway.’

      ‘Have fun,’ Pippa chuckled. ‘You’ve been taking things too seriously for too long.’

      ‘Well, that’s over and I’m glad. I swear I’ll never take anything seriously again.’

      ‘How’s Roscoe coping with the change in you?’

      ‘Resigned, I think. I hardly see him now. Since the tie-up with Vanlen came to nothing, he’s in the office all the time.’

      ‘There’s not going to be a merger?’

      ‘No. I’m not sure what happened but I’ve heard there was a big row. Vanlen wanted to go ahead and merge; Roscoe didn’t. Vanlen made threats; Roscoe told him to do his worst. Vanlen stormed off.’ Charlie suddenly became awkward. ‘Actually, I thought you might have seen Roscoe more recently.’

      ‘The last time I saw him was at your mother’s house on the night of the show, and I only went because you assured me he wouldn’t be there.’

      He was wide-eyed. ‘Did I say that? I don’t remember.’

      ‘Stop telling porkies. You promised I wouldn’t bump into him. But he said you knew he’d be there. How did you get that so wrong, Charlie?’

      ‘Ah—well—’

      She surveyed him suspiciously. ‘You set us up to meet, didn’t you?’

      ‘Who, me? ‘ His air of innocence was perfectly contrived, and she would have believed it if she hadn’t known him so well by now.

      ‘Yes, you.’

      ‘How can you think that I—? Oh hell, yes of course I did. I was hoping the two of you would see sense if I helped things along.’

      ‘You’ve got an almighty nerve, playing Cupid.’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I? I need a big sister, and I’ve chosen you. Besides which, it’s always handy having a lawyer in the family. There are bound to be times in the future when—well, you know.’

      Her lips twitched. ‘Yes, I do know.’

      Charlie became briefly serious. ‘But that’s not really the reason, Pippa. Both Mother and I want you in the family because you make Roscoe human. Without you he’ll go to the dogs.’ He resumed his clowning manner. ‘So get on with it, OK? Right, now I’ve got to go. I just wanted to see you again and say thanks for everything.’

      He gave her a brotherly kiss and was gone, taking with him her last connection with Roscoe.

      At their parting she’d said a final goodbye, but still she clung to the hope that he would refuse to accept her rejection. But he neither called her nor turned up on her doorstep. In the next few days their only contact was a letter:

      I had a long talk with Mother last night. I think we were both equally surprised that it was possible, but once we started it grew easier. She told me how she’d felt, things that I hadn’t known, and actually asked my forgiveness if she’d failed me. I told her there was nothing to forgive. Without you, it would never have happened. For the rest of my life you can ask anything of me that you wish and it will be yours. As I am yours.

      It was signed simply, Roscoe.

      He had said that she would never be alone and she found that, mysteriously, it was true. The apartment echoed with emptiness, yet he was always present, along with her other silent companions. There was Dee, accusing her of cowardice, and Mad Bruin, echoing Dee’s thoughts, as he always had.

      Cowardice? Am I really a coward?

       If you had any real nerve, Dee told her, you’d go back to Trafalgar Square and face that Christmas tree and those carols.

      That’s what you’d have done, isn’t it? But I’m not brave enough. I’d always be watching Roscoe, wondering if his love was failing, and I won’t do that to him.

       It’s nearly Christmas. Soon the lights will go out and it’ll be too late for another year. It’s now or never.

      Then let it be never. Better for him. I’d only break his heart.

      Yet she began wandering past Trafalgar Square every night on her way home, standing there, apart from the crowd, trying to listen to the carols without hearing them. But it was no use. The darkness did not lift and after standing in the cold for an hour she would turn and make her way drearily to the nearest underground station, trying to find relief in the thought that this self-inflicted punishment would soon be over, and she could be strong for another year.

      ‘I won’t go back in the future,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t.’ Just one last visit, she thought. Then never again.

      ‘And you’ll come with me,’ she said, taking up Mad Bruin from his place by her bed. ‘We’ll say goodbye together, then maybe you’ll understand and stop nagging me. And tell her to stop nagging me. Not that she ever does stop. Look at that.’

      The exclamation was drawn from her by one of Dee’s diaries, on which Bruin had been sitting, and which fell to the floor when he was moved. Picking it up, Pippa found it falling open at a page in the centre. Dee had written:

      I suppose I’m a bit mad. I swore I’d never marry him. I even ended our engagement. That broke my heart. I thought I was doing the best thing, but who gave me the right to decide for both of us? When he came back to me, injured, vulnerable, I knew that my place was by his side, no matter what.

      We’re marrying now because I’m pregnant, so I don’t know if he really loves me. But IT DOESN’T MATTER. I love him, and that’s what matters. Nobody knows the future. You can only love and do your best. Perhaps it won’t work. Perhaps he’ll leave me.

      Here some words were scribbled in the margin. Pippa just managed to make out her grandfather’s writing: Daft woman! As though I could.

      Dee went on:

      I’ll take that risk and, at the end, whenever and whatever the end will be, I’ll be able to say that I was true to my love.

      ‘You were so strong,’ Pippa murmured. ‘If only I could be like you. But I can’t.’

      She put the diary carefully into a drawer, then tucked Bruin into her bag and hurried out.

      She could hear the carol singers from a distance and ran the last few yards, suddenly eager to see the beautiful tree, its lights streaming up into the darkness, promising hope. That hope would never be hers, but she would carry the memory of this night all her life.

      A vendor was wandering through the Square, holding up sprigs of mistletoe and doing a roaring trade as couples converged on him, paying exorbitantly for tiny sprigs, then immediately putting them to good use. Tears sprang into Pippa’s eyes as she watched them.

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