‘Then you know what you mean to each other, and you mustn’t take any risks with that. Don’t let me see you wishing every day that you could turn the clock back.’
‘I’ve been thinking. I’m going back to China to clear out my apartment and talk to Mrs Wu. I’ll see Lang again, talk to him. Maybe we can come to some arrangement with me dividing my time between China and here. If not, well…’
‘Oh, no. You mustn’t finish with him.’
‘I’m not leaving you alone.’
‘I’m not alone. There’s the rest of the family.’
‘Oh, yes, Mum and Dad prancing around like the world’s their stage. The others who send you the occasional Christmas card. I have to be here at least some of the time. He’ll understand.’
‘Perhaps he’ll return to England.’
‘No.’ Olivia set her jaw stubbornly. ‘I’d never ask him. Besides, he’s already signed a contract.’
She didn’t mention the other reason; the story he’d told her about the woman he’d left rather than change course had carried a hidden warning.
‘I fixate on something,’ he’d said on another occasion, ‘and I stick with it. It doesn’t make me a nice person.’
She hadn’t seen the warning then, but it was clear enough now.
She clung to the thought that they might still be together, that somehow life could be arranged so that she could divide her time between China and England. It was a wildly impractical idea, but it was all that stood between her and the abyss.
At night she slept with Ming Zhi in her arms, gripping her more tightly, more frantically every time, as though hoping to recover the caution and wisdom by which she’d always lived.
She’d prided herself on those qualities, but in the end they had failed to save her from falling in love so deeply that she belonged to him body and soul, for ever. She could almost have laughed at herself, but the laughter would be terrible and bitter.
She knew that Lang loved her. But he was the man he was, a man made of granite beneath a gentle surface.
His face came into her mind as she’d last seen it in real life, not merely on the screen: the sadness as they’d parted, the yearning look that had seemed to follow her. Then she thought of how he’d beamed when he’d told her he’d got the job. He would survive their parting-if there had to be a parting-because he had something else. And she would survive knowing that all was well with him.
That was as far as she dared to let herself think. But the temptation to see him once more, to lie in his arms one last time, was too great to be resisted. From it she would draw the strength to live a bleak life without him.
She hired an agency nurse, a pleasant young woman who got on well with Norah from the first moment. She moved into the apartment at once, leaving Olivia’s mind at ease.
The only problem now was what to say to Lang when they next talked, but he solved that by texting her to say he would be at the hospital all night.
She texted back, informing him that she was coming to China.
That was how they communicated now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE taxi seemed to take for ever to get from Beijing Airport to the apartment, and Olivia had to pinch herself to stay awake. When at last she was in her room, she left a message on Norah’s answer machine, saying that she’d arrived safely. Then she lay down, promising herself that it would be just for a moment, and awoke five hours later.
Soon she must text Lang. He would text back, telling her the first moment he could spare from his busy schedule. Somehow they would meet, she would put her plan to him and perhaps they would have a kind of disjointed future. Or perhaps not.
Exhausted from the flight, she could see only the dark side. He would refuse. He had another life now. He didn’t need her.
One part of her-the common-sense part-reckoned it would have been wiser not to come here. They could have talked online and decided their future for good or ill.
But common sense-such a reliable ally in the past-failed her now. The yearning to be with him again was intolerable. To part without holding him just once more, without feeling his body against hers, inside hers, loving her as only he could love-this would have been more than she could bear.
She put her hands up over her face and a cry broke from her at the thought.
But she was a dragon lady, strong and resolute, one who faced whatever life threw at her no matter how painful. If love failed her she would have the memory of love to carry her through, and this one final night that she had promised herself.
There was a knock on the door. Throwing on a light robe, she hurried to it and called softly, ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me, Lang.’
She had the door open in a second. Then he was in the room, holding her fiercely, covering her face with passionate kisses, murmuring her name over and over.
‘Olivia, Olivia, it’s really you. Hold me-kiss me.’
‘Yes, yes, I came because-’
‘Hush,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t let’s talk, not yet.’
She couldn’t reply. His mouth was over hers, silencing everything but sensation. He was right; this wasn’t the time for words. She wanted to belong to him again, and it was happening fast. He had the robe off in a moment, and then there was only the flimsy night dress, which suddenly wasn’t there any more.
She tried to help him off with his clothes but there was no need. He was already moving faster than she could follow, and when he was naked she could understand why. His desire for her was straining his control. He almost tossed her onto the bed and fell on top of her, loving her with a fierce vigour that would have made her think he was a man staking his claim if she’d been capable of thought.
She’d forgotten how skilled he was with his mouth, his hands, his loins. But he reminded her again and again, demanding without mercy, but giving with no holding back.
Their final moment was explosive, leaving them both too drained to do anything but clasp each other and lie still. Lang’s eyes were closed, and he might have fallen asleep. She tightened her arms about him in a passion of tenderness.
‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll never know how much I love you because I don’t think I can find the words. And perhaps you wouldn’t believe me, because how can I explain it?’
‘No need,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t talk.’
He was right. No words now. She was back in her dream, where only he existed. Nothing else in the world. She slept.
She knew something had gone wrong when she awoke to find Lang sitting by the window. She’d dreamed of awakening in his arms, seeing his face looking down tenderly at hers. After their passionate love-making, he should have found it impossible to tear himself away.
But he sat there, seemingly oblivious to her, absorbed in a conversation on his mobile phone.
She lay back on the bed, stunned and disillusioned. It had never occurred to her that she was already on the fringe of his life.
At last he finished the call, turned and looked at her, smiling when he saw she was awake. He returned to the bed to take her eagerly into his arms.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming back to me. Let me look at you. I still can’t believe you’re actually here. Kiss me, kiss me.’
She did so, again and again.
He was the one to break the embrace, laughing and saying, ‘If we don’t stop now I’ll have to make love to you
