something she’d had only in her dreams for ten years. They were still good together, she could tell. So right for each other. If only…
When they had cleared customs at Heathrow, neither of them knew what to do next.
‘Shall we go for a coffee?’ Amy asked eventually.
Alex nodded, his face weary.
They collected watery coffee from a kiosk and found a table free of debris. Alex stared into his cup, brooding, as though looking for answers in the brown murk.
‘Al,’ Amy tried, gently.
Alex just shook his head. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes.
‘What am I meant to do now, Amy?’ he asked. His voice was an entreaty, a plea for an answer she couldn’t give him.
She reached over and grabbed his hand. ‘Al,’ she took a deep breath, ‘I still love you. I can’t change that. But I understand the situation you’re in. And I won’t hold your decisions against you.’
Alex shook his head, his eyes growing tearful. ‘Fuck,’ he growled, banging his fist on the table and looking down at his steaming coffee as it slopped over the edge of his mug.
‘Look,’ Amy said, wondering where she was summoning her words from. ‘Just listen to yourself. That’s all you can do. You and I – we’ll -’ she had to fight through her own emotions to say it ‘- we’ll never be history, it’s not possible.’
Alex looked up, his face wretched, listening to her intently.
‘You and I,’ she continued, ‘we share something, something that I don’t think can be broken. But it’s not just about us any more, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about that.’
‘Amy, I don’t know what you’re saying.’
She tried out a quick laugh, but there was no merriment in it. ‘Neither do I, really. But, Al, if you can take your guilt out of the equation for just one moment, if you can bring yourself into the here and now, don’t you know what you want, really – don’t you know, deep down, what you’re going to do next? Aren’t you holding yourself back because of the pain you might cause, or experience, not because you don’t know?’
She could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what she was saying. She held her breath, because this was it: she had pushed him to this point, and couldn’t undo it, but she was also terrified of what would come next.
Suddenly he got up, came around, pulled her out of her chair and cupped her face in his hands, and his mouth met hers in a passionate kiss that she melted into, heart and soul.
96
Mark ran through the victory speech in his head, the one he would give to the press outside court on behalf of his client when the case was over. He wouldn’t be delivering it for a while, but he was confident that, in the end, he’d get a chance to do so. He could already see himself standing on the steps, surrounded by cameras and tape recorders, all eyes on him as they devoured his every word. His time had come – the legal world wouldn’t be able to stop talking about him when this case was finished.
They couldn’t lose – they had Carl Blaine, the best barrister in the business, on their side; it was only day one and already the defence looked rattled. Mark had watched in admiration as Blaine railed at poor Kara’s fate and the blocked avenues of support that had led her to such drastic action – vowing that such a tragedy should never happen again, and so it was critical to make those responsible accountable for their role in events. Now, walking alongside Mark as they faced the media ruckus, Kip Abbott was holding his head high, looking far less nervous than when he’d arrived at court.
‘I should never have asked Neil to do this,’ Kip had said when they’d shaken hands earlier in the day. ‘He’s been so hyped up about it. It’s been far too personal for him.’
Yes, it had been, Mark had thought grimly. But a good lawyer, a Jameson lawyer, could put aside emotions, knew that doing so was critical, in fact. Not that they didn’t ever emote, sometimes it was called for – but it was all scripted to perfection.
Mark still couldn’t believe that Neil, so strong and fit on the squash court, had had a heart attack, and he did feel a little guilty that it was his boss’s illness that had provided him with such a huge opportunity.
Henry had been sticking to Mark closer than his own shadow in recent days, going through the papers, supporting him, moulding him, encouraging him. Mark had had a thrill running through him the whole time. This was what he’d been waiting for – his big chance. There was no way this one was slipping away from him; he would grab it with both hands, make his father proud, people would pay thousands to have him working on their cases.
Neil was still critically ill in hospital, wired up to machines. He’d had to have a triple bypass over the weekend, and the recovery time was predicted to be months. David was already in the middle of another important case; and while there were other partners and senior solicitors at Lewis & Marchant, no one knew the Abbott case like Mark did. Henry had lobbied for his son to take charge even before Mark had found out about Neil, and so, by the time he’d picked up the phone at Chloe’s, he was on the biggest fast-track ever heard of in Lewis & Marchant, or probably any other London firm. This case would see his name well and truly made.
As Mark neared the car, he remembered that he’d seen Henry today, standing at the back of the public gallery, his legs casually crossed as he leaned on a wall. After the close of the afternoon session, Mark had looked at him and Henry had given him a brief nod. Mark’s chest swelled at the memory of his father’s acknowledgement; of his respect.
They had reached their vehicle. He opened a passenger door for Kip, then went around to the other side, ignoring the shouted questions from the media, shut the door and felt the adrenalin buzz still coursing through his veins in the sudden silence of the car’s interior. As they pulled away, he rested his hands across his stomach, a studied pose of concentration, but in the lull his mind didn’t hesitate to drift back to Chloe’s small, vulnerable face. Instantly, he simply felt tired. He sighed. This case could be a welcome distraction, if only he could stop thinking about her. He was trying to tell himself that it would never have worked, but he could only hope that his career was about to go stratospheric, and the whole thing would be some kind of blessing in disguise. He studied his short fingernails and tried not to think of Chloe and Alex together – the way Chloe’s face softened and brightened as she looked at Alex – a look Mark had only witnessed, never received. Surely Alex couldn’t be so stupid as to give that up?
He leaned back in his seat and stared sombrely out at the traffic as they edged their way forward. He knew it was nothing to do with him now. Finally, after all these years, it was time to let her go.
97
Chloe was fed up. She wished her heart would stop pounding every time there was a knock on the door or the phone rang. She felt pensive, uncomfortable. The day seemed somehow pivotal, and she wasn’t sure why. After a weekend resting, she felt more alert, and was having to force herself into inaction. Her mother wasn’t helping. She was mostly back to her twittering self and was beginning to get on Chloe’s nerves with her constant fussing.
Her first surprise visitor of the day had been Jana. Chloe had felt uncomfortable being caught by her secretary makeup-free and wearing a grubby old tracksuit, but Jana hadn’t shown any sign of noticing, and simply said she’d taken a long lunch hour to come and offer her support.
‘My sister almost miscarried,’ Jana announced, ‘and the whole family was a wreck. I just wanted to encourage you to rest and to let you know that she now has a healthy baby – a girl – and so will you.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Chloe asked quietly. ‘I feel I hardly dare move in case I dislodge the baby inside
