heartbreaking. Finally, breathlessly, she broke away.
‘No,’ she said, backing rapidly away, tears streaming down her face. ‘I can’t do this to you.’ Then she turned and ran into the house.
‘Annie!’
George’s desperate cry still ringing in her ears, Annie raced up the stairs and by the time he caught up with her she had her cellphone in one hand, calling up the taxi firm while she emptied a drawer. She’d never wear any of the clothes again, but she’d bought them with George and they held precious memories.
She’d crammed a lifetime of ordinary experiences into a few days. She’d laughed more than she had in her entire life. She’d loved more. And been loved by Hetty, Xandra, called ‘lass’ by George senior, which she recognised as a mark of acceptance. While George…
George had made it his purpose in life to give her what she most wanted-to be ordinary-even while taking the utmost care to keep a physical distance between them.
And then he’d found the bike and, overwhelmed by what that meant, for a precious moment he’d let down his guard. It was then, when he’d kissed her in a way that made her feel like the woman she wanted to be, when tearing herself away from him had been beyond bearing-
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demanded, bursting into the room, taking the cellphone from her and breaking the connection.
‘Leaving,’ she said, taking it from him and hitting Redial, throwing the clothes into her bag. ‘Now. I should never have stayed.’
George Saxon had a real life, a family who wanted him and nothing on earth would allow her to inflict even the smallest part of her life on them. Somewhere, deep down, she’d hoped that they would be able to remain friends. That she could, once in a while, call him, talk to him. But, if she’d learned one thing this week, it was that for someone you truly loved you would sacrifice anything, even love itself.
Forget Thursday. She couldn’t wait until then. She had to leave now. Tonight. Never look back.
George stood there, watching her fling her clothes into a bag and feeling more helpless than he had in his entire life. He said her name, as if that would somehow keep her from leaving. ‘Annie.’
She looked up.
‘I love you.’
The hand holding the phone fell to her side. She opened her mouth, took a breath, shook her head. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘I know what makes you laugh,’ he said, lifting a hand to her face, wiping his fingers across the tears that were running unchecked down her face. ‘I know what makes you cry.’
She didn’t deny it, just shivered as he put his arms around her, drew her close, resting his own cheek against her pale hair.
‘I know how your skin feels beneath my hands,’ he continued, more to himself than to her. ‘The taste of your mouth. The way your eyes look when I touch you. I know that you’re kind, generous, caring, intuitive, smart.’ He looked down at her. ‘I know that, no matter what I say, you’ll go home. What I’m asking is-will you come back?’
‘This isn’t a fairy-tale, George. Will you call me a taxi? Please?’
There was a note of desperation in that final please, but she’d given him his answer and there didn’t seem a lot to say after that.
His mother and Xandra had gone shopping before going to the hospital to collect his father and he left a note on the kitchen table, explaining that a family emergency had called Annie home.
‘How long will it be?’ she asked when she followed him downstairs. ‘The taxi.’
‘There’s no taxi. The deal was always that I’d take you home.’
She didn’t argue, just surrendered her bag, got into his car. Neither of them said another word until they reached the motorway, when she looked at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘No…’
‘Spit it out.’
‘It’s Lydia’s car. Could you…Would you find a replacement?’ She took a paper bag out of the big shoulder bag she carried everywhere, placed it in the glove compartment. ‘There should be enough.’
‘Just how much money were you carrying around with you?’ he demanded.
‘Don’t you mean where did I have it all stashed?’
His knuckles whitened as his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
‘Will you do it?’
‘Don’t you have some little man who does that kind of thing for you?’ Then, ‘Oh, no. My mistake. You can’t ask anyone at home. You wouldn’t be allowed out on your own for the rest of your life if your grandfather found out what you did.’
‘Red would be good, if you could manage it,’ she said, her voice even, controlled. Holding everything in. ‘I’ve left her address with the money.’
‘Roadworthy. Red. Is that it?’
‘I’d like her to have it before Christmas.’
‘Do you want me to put on the Santa hat, climb on her roof and push it down the chimney?’ He banged the flat of his hand against the steering wheel. ‘I could start hating Christmas all over again.’
Annie could understand why he was angry. There were a thousand things she wanted to say, but nothing that would help either of them.
‘If there’s any money left, will you give it to some local charity?’
‘Anonymously, of course. That’s it? All debts paid?’
No. Not by a long shot but there was one thing she could do. ‘Would you like me to speak to Mrs Warburton? At Dower House. In case Xandra changes her mind about going back.’
‘She won’t be returning to boarding school.’
‘Her mother might not take the same view,’ she pointed out.
‘Her mother lost her vote when she switched off her cellphone.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure she’ll be happier living with you and her grandparents.’
He shook his head. ‘I left home when I was eighteen, Annie. I’m not about to move back in with my parents. What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Are you going to go home and grovel to your grandfather for being a bad girl?’ he asked, driven by helpless anger into goading her. ‘Beg his forgiveness and promise never to do it again?’
‘George-’
‘Go on playing the part that he wrote for you when you were six years old?’
‘Wrote for me?’
‘Isn’t that what he did?’ He’d read her story on the Net, wanting to know everything about her. ‘From the moment you stepped into the limelight. Isn’t he the one pushing the wedding bells story?’
She didn’t answer.
‘I saw that photograph of the two of you together on the day it was first published. Your mouth was smiling, but your eyes…You looked hunted.’
He saw the slip road for a motorway service station and took it. Pulling into the car park, he turned on her. ‘You told Xandra that you’d only marry Rupert Devenish if you loved him. Do you?’
‘George…Don’t do this.’
‘Do you?’
‘No…’ The word was hoarse, barely audible. ‘Before I met you…’
‘Before you met me-what?’
‘I might have been that desperate.’
She was no more than a dark shape against the lights. He couldn’t see her face or read her expression and that made it easier. One look from those tender blue eyes and he’d be lost.
‘What do you want, Annie?’ he asked, fighting the urge to just take her in his arms, tell her that it would be all right, that he would make it so. But he knew that this was something she had to do for herself.
