There was an ache in her throat. Through the worst moments she’d clung to the hope that one day they would meet again.
But this was the meeting, and now she knew they were really at the end of the road.
When at last she could speak, she forced out words that were as formal and ugly as his own.
‘Well, it’s time I was going,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s so nice to have seen you again. The best of luck.’
He drew a sharp breath and for a moment his face was constricted with pain.
‘Evie,’ he said harshly, ‘are you all right?’
‘No. You?’
He shook his head. But he would not yield.
‘Goodbye,’ he whispered.
She touched his cheek gently.
‘Goodbye, my love,’ she said. ‘Goodbye.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE began to lose track of time. Day seemed to follow day with little difference between them. Sometimes she felt as though she’d been translating the same book for ever and it was almost a surprise to receive three sets of galleys to check. At some time recently she must have worked on these books, but it felt like another life.
She sat at her screen for hours, crawling into bed at the last moment, getting up with the dawn, drinking black coffee before forcing herself awake with a cold shower.
Then it was back to work. Don’t think. Don’t listen to the phone that never rings. Don’t wonder how you’ll endure the rest of your life.
Mark still corresponded with her. She knew how often he went to Naples, and also how often Justin left him with his grandmother while he went away on business. She formed a vague idea that he was burying himself in work to avoid thinking and feeling, like herself.
She always worded her own emails carefully, in case Justin should see them. She couldn’t bear to think of him knowing how she still pined for him when he had destroyed their love so decisively, although Mark ended every email with a hopeful,
In spring she went down to the cottage. She’d been avoiding it, using the cold weather as an excuse. The truth was that she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the place where she had been with Justin, and had learned to love him.
But with the extra money he’d paid her from the sale she could do many necessary repairs, and at last the moment had to be faced. She bought a small car and drove down to Penzance.
The cottage was chilly and the emptiness felt more bleak even than she’d anticipated. There was the little kitchen where he’d cooked, and she’d begun to realise he had more facets than she’d imagined. There was the sofa where she’d awoken to find him kneeling beside her, regarding her with tender concern.
Her footsteps echoed on the flagstones, then up the stairs to the silent, empty bedrooms. She wondered how she could ever bear to be here again, but then she knew she couldn’t bear to leave. This was the place where they had loved, and he would be with her here for ever.
She began to go swimming. The water was still chilly, but she found it bracing and would swim out a long way. The journey back would tire her, and that way she could get some sleep.
One morning she went out early and swam further than usual. At last she realised that it would be wise to turn back. She returned slowly, feeling the strength draining away from her while the shore seemed to recede instead of growing closer. Her arms and legs were heavy and she seemed to make no progress.
Her mind was growing fuzzy. It would be so easy to let herself fall asleep now.
Once before she’d come out this far and Justin had been alarmed, calling her back to safety, powering through the water to reach her. To tease him she had pushed on further, daring him to catch up.
That had been in the early days, before Andrew’s defection, and everything had been a game, but when he’d been about to catch her she’d suddenly become very conscious of her near nakedness in the bikini, the way he was bound to seize her around the waist and draw her against him.
But he’d only grabbed her wrist and yelled something about showing a little common sense. She’d started to laugh, and he’d said, ‘Hold on to me while we go back.’
She’d laughed harder, saying, ‘Who needs to?’ Then she had broken away from him and swam off, freshly invigorated by the sudden pounding of her blood.
She closed her eyes, reliving the moment, wondering why she hadn’t seen the truth then. And would it have made any difference to the end?
The voice came from the sky, from the sea, from the air. It was all around her.
The sound narrowed down to a point on the shore. A tall, elegant woman stood there, calling and waving to her.
It was Hope.
Evie blinked, trying to realise that the impossible was happening. Somehow she brought her limbs back to life and began to make her way to shore.
As she reached shallow water and rose to her feet she stumbled, discovering just how exhausted she was. Without hesitation Hope began to wade in, oblivious to the damage to her couture clothes. Reaching Evie, she pulled her arm about her shoulders and supported her back to safety.
There, Evie could do no more than collapse on the sand, looking up at Hope as she leaned over her, saying in a voice of total exasperation, ‘Honestly, you’re as bad as he is!’
Later, in the warmth of the cottage, when Evie had showered and dressed, Hope said firmly, ‘Sit down and eat.’
Attired in Evie’s towel dressing gown while her own clothes dried out, she had taken over the kitchen and concocted a delicious meal from whatever she’d found there. Eating it with relish, Evie recognised the hand of a genuine born home-maker.
This had always been inevitable, she realised. Part of her had known that Hope would never leave matters as they were.
‘Are you angry that I came?’ Hope asked, sitting at the table with her and pouring a cup of strong tea.
‘Of course not. I’m glad to see you. But I thought you were in Italy, with Mark.’
‘My grandson does not need me at the moment. He has the whole family to make a fuss of him. I came to England to see my son. He’s the one who needs me now. You also.’
Evie gave a brief laugh. ‘Oh, I’m managing.’
‘Are you?’ Hope asked, regarding her critically. ‘It didn’t seem that way out there.’
‘I was just tired, getting my second wind before I swam back.’
‘Perhaps, but something tells me that you were thinking dangerous thoughts.’
Before Hope’s shrewd but kindly gaze Evie found that it was impossible to dissemble.
‘Well, if I was, it was only for a moment,’ she said. ‘I’d have pulled myself together.’
‘Of course. You are a woman. Somehow we always pull ourselves together. But them-’ She shrugged, dismissing and disrespecting the entire world of men.
She glanced around the cottage, taking in Evie’s desk, the open books, the signs of relentless work. Watching her, Evie had the feeling that she understood everything.
‘Do you ever sleep?’ Hope asked at last.
‘Only when I have to,’ Evie admitted. ‘For the rest of the time-’ She shrugged.
‘There is always work,’ Hope agreed. ‘It is as I thought. You cope better than he does.’
‘You’ve seen him?’ Evie asked eagerly. ‘How is he?’
‘I was with him yesterday. He’s like you, working too hard, late into the night. His telephone rings constantly. He barks out his orders.’ She gave a sigh. ‘It is terrible.’
