Storm Force. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ be on hand in case she needs anything.’

      Maggie steeled herself. ‘And the doctor’s quite sure it is her heart? After all, your mother doesn’t have a great deal to occupy herself with when you’re not there, and it’s easy to—build up symptoms in one’s own mind—imagine things …’

      Robin’s pleasant face hardened perceptibly. ‘Just what are you implying? Do I infer that you think my mother has invented this attack, because she’s bored in some way? How could you? If you’d seen her—seen the pain she was in—the brave way she was trying to cope. Maggie, I know you’re disappointed about the holiday, and I am too, but this really isn’t worthy of you.’

      There was a silence, then Maggie said quietly, ‘No, perhaps not. I apologise.’ She forced a smile. ‘So much for Mauritius, then,’ Or anywhere else out of your mother’s clutches.

      ‘Oh, but you can still go,’ he said quickly. ‘The hotel reservation is waiting, after all. It would be a pity to waste it. Mother said so. She said, “Margaret deserves to get away for a rest, somewhere in the sun where she can relax and meet new people.”‘

      ‘How kind of her.’ Anger was beginning to build inside Maggie, and she fought to control it. ‘But I wouldn’t dream of going without you.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps, if your mother’s condition turns out to be less serious than you fear, we could get a later flight. As you say, they’ll keep our room.’

      Perhaps the shared room was the crunch as far as Mrs Hervey was concerned. Maybe if we’d booked separate rooms, or even different hotels, she wouldn’t have taken quite such drastic action.

      ‘I wish I could be as optimistic.’ He gave her an anxious, rather pleading smile. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry about all this. But there’ll be another time.’

      Oh, no, there won’t, thought Maggie. Your mother will see to that. This was in the nature of a trial run—to see how you’d react. Now she knows she can pull the strings whenever she wants and you’ll dance.

      ‘Of course there will,’ she smiled at him, calmly. ‘Now I’m sure you want to get back to the hospital—check there haven’t been any developments. It was good of you to come over and explain in person.’

      He looked aghast. ‘But that was the least I could do. Mother insisted.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve checked with my insurance, and we won’t be out of pocket over any cancellation. Family illness, you know.’ There was another awkward silence, then he looked at his watch. ‘Maybe I should be getting back, at that.’ He gave her an unhappy look. ‘You do understand, don’t you? You know how much I was looking forward to being with you.’

      ‘Yes.’ As he got to his feet, Maggie rose too, and kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘I understand everything.’ She paused. ‘Give your mother my regards, and tell her I’m sure she’ll be feeling much better soon.’

      ‘Thank you.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment. ‘You’re a wonderful girl, Maggie. A wonderful friend.’

      She watched the door close behind him, then slowly and carefully she counted to twenty before picking up her empty cup and throwing it with all her strength at the fireplace. It smashed instantly, sending shards of pottery and dribbles of cold coffee everywhere.

      She said, ‘And that’s that,’ and began to cry, hot heavy tears of rage and disappointment. She sank down on her knees on the rug, arms wrapped across her body, and sobbed out loud.

      She wasn’t crying for the loss of her sunlit, tropical holiday. She was grieving for Robin, and the life with him she had hoped for—planned for. Because she knew with paralysing certainty that even if he were to walk back through that door and propose marriage here and now, she would not accept.

      She supposed she should be glad that Mrs Hervey had shown her hand so early in the game. Perhaps one day, she would even be grateful that she had been given the chance to walk away from a potentially monstrous and destructive situation, but not now. Now, she felt stricken, as if her life lay in as many pieces as her ill-used cup.

      She wept until she had no tears left, and the harsh, hiccupping sobs gradually died away into silence. She went on kneeling, staring into space, wondering numbly what to do next.

      Going to Mauritius by herself was out of the question. The hotel, a luxurious bungalow complex, would be full of couples, which would only serve to emphasise her own sense of loneliness and isolation. Nor could she find anyone else to accompany her at this short notice.

      And if I could, I wouldn’t want to, she thought. It’ll be bad enough when everyone finds out. They’ll all be so sympathetic, and falling over themselves not to say, ‘I told you so,’ especially Louie and Sebastian. I don’t think I can bear it.

      She supposed she could try to book herself another kind of holiday, somewhere her presence as a single woman wouldn’t be quite so remarkable, but her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t think of one place she was remotely interested in going to.

      On the other hand, she couldn’t stay in London either. Unless she stayed in her flat like a total hermit, news would soon spread that she hadn’t gone away, and if she wasn’t careful she would be back at the office, wet-nursing Kylie St John through the re-write of her next bestseller.

      Oh, no, Maggie thought with sudden violence. Over my dead body.

      She got to her feet, drawing a deep breath. There was somewhere else she could go. There was her cottage.

      Sebastian might joke about it, but small as it was, and hidden in the wilds of East Anglia, it was precious to her. She enjoyed its seclusion and its comparative inaccessibility down little more than a farm track. She had bought it more or less for a song, using a legacy from her grandmother for the purpose, and over the past few years had poured in most of her spare cash on improvements to the building. She had had a secondhand Aga installed, and had toured the used furniture shops, choosing exactly the right items, then cleaning and stripping them down with loving care. Her next major project was going to be a bathroom. The present toilet arrangements consisted of an outside loo ringed by nettles, a rickety washbasin in the larger of the two bedrooms, and a tin bath in front of the Aga.

      Her sister Louie, who had fallen foul of the nettles on a midnight trip to the loo, had said with feeling that the whole place was like the end of the world, and the name had stuck. In fact their last Christmas present to her had been a handsome carved wooden nameplate with the legend ‘World’s End’, which Seb declared had doubled the value of the cottage in one fell swoop.

      But as a bolthole—a place to lick her wounds in peace—it was second to none. She could go there—be alone—and get her head together. Start planning for life after Robin.

      She winced as she made her way into the bedroom. The first thing she had to do was unpack her case. She wouldn’t be needing any glamorous coordinated beachwear at World’s End. Jeans, sweaters and thermal undies were the order of the day there.

      The worst moment was when she came across the nightgown she had bought for her first night with Robin. It was white, pretty and sheer, and if she was honest, she hadn’t counted on wearing it for very long. She had always enjoyed being in Robin’s arms, and wanted his kisses. She had grown accustomed to him, felt safe with him, and had no qualms about giving herself to him completely. Now, she looked down at the nightgown, feeling fresh tears scalding in her throat. She never wanted to see it again, or any of the other charming, provocative trifles she had bought either.

      Stony-faced, СКАЧАТЬ