‘Almost at once. There was something about you-just like last time.’
‘You can remember that?’ she asked in a wondering voice.
‘I remember everything about you, from the first moment we met.’
They had lain in each other’s arms all night, sometimes talking, but mostly silent, seeking and finding consolation in each other’s presence. As the minutes passed into hours she felt the shell about her heart crack and fall apart, releasing her from the imprisonment of years, and had known that it was the same with him.
‘I guessed about the baby almost as soon as I saw you,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t see any hope for us then. I knew I’d made a mess of everything. You used to say I went at things like a bull at a gate, and it was true. I’ve gone on doing things that way all these years, because I could make it work for me. By the time we met again, I’d forgotten that there was any other way.’
‘Yes,’ she said tenderly. ‘I gathered that.’
‘When we were young I knew how to talk to you. It was easy to tell you that I loved you. There was nothing in the world but love, nothing that mattered. When we met again, there were so many other things that seemed important. Chiefly my pride.
‘I sought you out because I’d convinced myself that you were the one woman in the world who could give me a child. It was nonsense, of course.
‘Sonia saw it. She said at the start that I only believed it because I wanted it to be true, and she was right. So I came looking for you, convinced that I had a sensible, logical reason, because I couldn’t admit the truth to myself.’
‘And what was the truth?’ Rebecca asked softly.
‘That I’d never stopped loving you in all those years; that life without you was desolate and empty. All that time there was a barrier about my heart. I built it up year after year, thinking if it was thick enough it would protect me, but in the end it didn’t, thank God.
‘Then I found you, and I bought shares at the Allingham to give myself an excuse to meet you. I thought I’d planned it all so well.’
He gave a faint smile, aimed at himself. ‘If you could have seen me on the night we met. I was almost sure you’d be at Steyne’s house, and I was in a state of nerves. I heard your voice in the hall and I nearly panicked and ran. Then you came in with Jordan, and you were so beautiful, but so different, I didn’t know what to say to you.
‘I don’t know what I expected-that’d you’d greet me by name, run into my arms? But you didn’t seem to know me. You were so cool and poised and suddenly I was the country bumpkin again, fumbling for words.
‘I tried to rush you-well, you remember that. But all I knew how to do was give orders, and you seemed to get further away with everything I said or did. I nearly blew it with those diamonds, but I couldn’t think what else to do.’
‘So you went at it bull-headed,’ she said, smiling.
‘As always. When I came here I’d given up all hope. I just wanted to look at the place where we’d been so happy. And when I saw you, I didn’t dare believe that we might have another chance.’
He raised himself on his elbow, anxiously searching her face in the faint dawn light.
‘We do have another chance, don’t we?’ he asked.
‘We do if we want it.’
‘I want nothing in the world but you.’
‘And the baby,’ she reminded him.
‘Just you. The baby is a bonus. But the point of everything is you.’
He was asleep before she could answer, as though simply saying the words had brought him peace. All strain seemed to have drained away from him, as it had from her, and now she understood why.
For fifteen years they had been denied the right to grieve together for their child. That denial had been a disaster, freezing something in their hearts, preventing them both from moving on.
It was not too late, she thought, holding him close and watching the dawn grow. They were free now, free to feel the pain of their loss, and then free to grow beyond it, to find each other again.
She heard a faint pattering of rain on the roof. It became louder until she knew they were in the middle of a downpour.
It went on for several days, and during that time they never left the house. Some of the time they spent in talking, but mostly they just lay in each other’s arms, beyond the need for words.
At last they made love, gently and tenderly. There was pleasure still, but it mattered less than the love they had found again, and at last he held her in his arms, whispering, ‘Rebecca.’
‘You called me Rebecca,’ she said in wonder. ‘Not Becky.’
‘I’ve been doing so for some time. Have you not noticed?’
‘Yes, I think I have,’ she said, and fell asleep in his arms.
She had the strange, comforting fantasy that the water pouring down on the little house in a torrent was washing away all pain and bitterness. When the last of the storm had passed they went out together to look down the valley at the clean washed world.
‘Breakfast,’ she said.
Soon there were other things that would have to be said, but for the moment she wanted to think only of the small prosaic matters, and make this enchanted time last as long as possible.
‘Breakfast,’ he said, understanding her perfectly.
He helped her, fumbling slightly because of the plaster on his hand.
‘I guess you won’t get mad the next time I try to take care of you,’ he said, waggling his fingers. ‘I’ve never bullied you like you bullied me that day.’
‘Some men need bullying,’ she told him.
‘Now, where did I hear that before? Oh, yes, it was what Mama used to say to Papa.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Nothing. Just stood to attention.’
He suited the action to the words and she laughed. He grinned back, regarding her tenderly. There was a different quality to their laughter. It was no longer tense and brittle now that it was not being used to keep reality at bay.
One morning she opened her eyes slowly to find that, as always, the cottage was warm because Luca had risen earlier and built up the range. Pulling on her robe, she went out to find him bringing in a final load of logs; he dumped them in the basket, and blew on his hands.
Smiling, she went to him and took his hands between her own, trying to rub some warmth into them.
‘That’s lovely,’ he said. Then, mischievously, he put his chilly fingers against her neck, and she shrieked.
‘Sorry.’ He grinned. ‘It’s just that your neck is so deliciously warm, and it’s freezing out there.’
‘Well, it’s lovely in here.’
‘And, as you will have observed, the kettle is boiling.’ He indicated it with a flourish. ‘If you’d care to sit down, it’ll be ready for you in a moment.’
She let him enjoy himself cosseting her, but she was thoughtful, and he seemed to understand, because he was quiet until they were both eating.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ he asked. ‘Any sickness?’
‘No, that’s gone now, thank goodness.’
‘But there is something on your mind, isn’t there?’
‘Yours too,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve felt it for the last few days.’
‘I feel it every time I go in that cold yard. Winter’s coming, and soon it’ll be a lot colder.’
She nodded. ‘It’s been wonderful, being here like this, but I guess it’s coming to an end.’
‘It has to,’ he agreed regretfully. ‘Both for your sake and the baby’s.’
‘So what have you planned?’
‘Nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘I was waiting for you to make suggestions.’
‘You haven’t arranged anything? You?’
‘I may have had a few ideas-’
‘I somehow thought you might have done,’ she said, smiling.
‘But they’re only ideas. You may not like them, and then we could think of something else.’
