‘We both were. I met her at university, dated her, but when I brought her home she met Christopher and after that it was always him. It didn’t stop Chris obsessing that we were having an affair when we worked together on the store design.’
She lifted her hand to the bruise at her temple, gently rubbing her fingers over the sore spot, remembering his concern.
‘He was abusive,’ she said.
‘I believe so. She used to brush aside any concern, say she bruised at a touch. Was always walking into things. Maybe she was. She wasn’t eating properly, fighting an addiction to tranquillisers. Then one day I caught her running, terrified. I held her,’ he said. ‘Just held her, begged her to leave him. Not for me. For herself. And then Chris caught up with her, held out his hand to her and, without a word, she took it. Walked away with him. It was as if she had no will.’ He glanced at her. ‘It was just the hair, Lucy. You’re not a bit like her.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m shorter, fatter…’ He frowned and she rushed on, ‘You’re talking about her in the past tense.’
‘There was an accident. Chris always drove too fast, even though he knew it terrified her. Probably
She shivered, but not with the cold, and he turned to her, put his arms around her. Held her. Just as he’d held Claudia, she thought and, much as she wanted to stay there, in his arms, she pulled away.
‘I have no reason to protect Rupert Henshawe, Nathaniel. He does not control me.’
‘Doesn’t he?’ He shook his head, as if he knew the answer. ‘Reason has nothing to do with it,’ he said. Then, before she could deny it, ‘It was my fault. I should never have come back. Never accepted the commission.’
‘Why did you?’
‘Family. Guilt. I turned my back on family tradition and it broke my father’s heart. It was a way to make up for that.’
‘And, after the accident, you stepped in to look after things?’
‘There was no one else.’
‘No one else called Hart, maybe. Is Christopher punishing you for what happened to him?’ she asked. ‘Or are you punishing yourself for not saving Claudia?’ He didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t know the answer. ‘Who is it who leaves the rose, Nathaniel?’
‘That’s enough, Lucy,’ he said sharply.
‘It’s him, isn’t it? A daily reminder that she loved him. He can’t abuse his wife any more, frighten her, hurt her, because she’s beyond his reach,’ she continued, recklessly ignoring the warning. ‘So he’s abusing you instead.’
There was a long moment of silence.
So not bright, Lucy Bright.
Blown it, Lucy Bright.
And then he touched her cheek with his cold hand. A gesture that said a hundred times more than words.
‘Bright by name, bright by nature. Good guess, but you’re not entirely right. I’m punishing myself for failing to protect her. But I’m punishing him, too. Even while it gives him pleasure to know that I’ve been jerked back into the family business, robbed of something I loved, at the same time it’s eating him alive to know that I’m in control. In his place.’
‘He had Claudia.’
‘Yes, he had Claudia. His tragedy, and ultimately hers, is that he never believed that she could love him more than me. That he always thought of himself as second choice in all things.’
‘Let it go, Nathaniel. If you don’t, it will destroy you and then he’ll have killed you both.’
‘I know,’ he said, looking at her. ‘I know.’ And somehow she was the one holding him. Hugging him to her, holding him safe. She could have stayed there for ever, making their own warm, safe space in an icy world. Then he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Your turn, Lucy.’
‘Mine?’ She looked up at him.
‘That was the deal. I tell you mine and you tell me yours. Tell me what happened on the stairs.’
‘I…’ About to deny it, she thought better of it. ‘I don’t know. I was in a bit of a state, confused. An emotional basket case.’
‘That would explain it,’ he replied dryly, ‘but I have to tell you that, between your criticism of the penthouse and the basket case explanation of a stop-the-world-moment, you are not doing a lot for my ego.’
‘I didn’t mean…’
Lucy faltered. She didn’t know what she meant. She was more confused now than she had been then. When he’d caught her, their eyes had met and the instant connection had entirely bypassed her brain.
Her response to him had been entirely physical, without thought or reason. Completely honest. Without guile. Innocent.
‘I wanted you to kiss me,’ she said. Then, because being honest really mattered, ‘I wanted you.’
Even in the light from the street lamps, Nat could see the blush heat Lucy’s cheeks. Felt an answering and equally primitive rush, a desire to recapture that atavistic moment of connection. The caveman response, with no need for words or complicated ritual.
Her honesty shamed him. He’d wanted her, too, with a raw urgency that shocked the civilised man. It was the same primal instinct that urged him to protect her. They were two sides of the same basic need for survival. Take the woman, plant your seed and then protect her against the world because she was your future. And he would. From what, he wasn’t entirely certain, only that this time he wouldn’t stand back. Wouldn’t fail. No matter what the cost.
The ‘no involvement’ mantra had gone right out of the window the moment he’d suggested this mad adventure.
That first life-changing encounter had given him back something of himself. The kisses they’d shared in the snow had broken through a barrier. More would have them naked, in bed. That was why he’d stopped by the hot dog stall instead of taking her straight home.
‘“I wanted you”,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘Maybe it could do with a little work. I was thinking that it was one of those perfect, never to be repeated, once-in-a-lifetime moments when everything seems to drop into place.’
She pulled a wry smile. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you. But they will keep happening to me.’
‘You’re telling me that you keep meeting strangers you want to kiss?’ he asked, his voice even, but the caveman response was, he discovered, a lot more powerful than the civilised veneer would suggest. ‘Oh, not
‘Stage-managed?’
‘You want the story.’ She nodded as if she’d been expecting that. ‘I warn you that it’s long. You’ll probably want another hot dog. Extra onions for me.’
He returned with two fresh hot dogs, dripping with mustard and onions, and leaned back against the wall, his shoulder just touching hers. Just so that she’d know he was there.
Giving her courage to tell her story. Face the betrayal head-on.
‘The Henshawe Corporation’s High Street fashion chain had lost market share,’ she began. ‘It was no longer hot so they made the decision to give the stores a new look, a new name. Re-brand it. Take it upmarket.’
Lucy bit into the bun, chewed it for a while, watching a police launch moving slowly up the river, the lights dancing on the water, while she gathered her thoughts.
Nathaniel slipped his arm around her shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘They went to their PR company, as you do,’ she said, ‘and commissioned them to come up with a strategy to launch the new brand. One that would not only garner maximum media coverage, but engage their target consumer audience of young women who read gossip magazines and aspire to be the wife, or at least the girlfriend, of a top sports star.’
‘Or, failing that, one of the minor royals,’ he said, raising a smile.
‘You’ve got it.’
‘So far, so standard.’
‘Their first step was to set up focus groups to find out what that group were looking for. Get feedback on likely “names” to launch the new brand.’
