here.’
Done with Max. Done with Bella Lucia. Done with the icy damp of a London winter.
‘Do you want a lift home?’
‘It’ll take you out of your way.’
‘No problem.’ He ushered her into the back seat next to her mother, then, having given the driver her address, climbed in next to her.
Neither of them mentioned Max again. Instead as they headed towards Kensington her mother chatted brightly about a holiday they were planning, doing their best to distract her so that she didn’t have to do more than drop in the occasional “umm”. Pretty much all her aching throat could manage.
‘Louise?’ Her mother took her hand, stopped her before she left the car. ‘Are you going to be all right?’
‘Fine,’ she said, pulling herself together, pasting on a smile, hugging them both, fiercely. ‘Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
The red light on her answering machine was winking at her as she let herself in. She switched it on and it informed her that she had ‘one new message’.
‘Lou? It’s Cal. I’ll be in London tomorrow-’ She switched it off. He might be, but she wouldn’t.
‘Have you seen Louise?’
He knew he was in trouble.
It had taken hours to get rid of Gina. She’d had him driving round in circles, taking out her anger, her disappointment, on him. He would have appealed to her better nature, assuming that she had one, but he doubted that a plea to smooth his own path to married bliss would have moved her to pity.
He’d gritted his teeth, telling himself that Louise would have heard what had happened, understand why he had been held up. That he hadn’t stood her up for Bella Lucia.
The party seemed to be in its final stages. Slow music, couples wrapped in each other’s arms. His father was sitting in the bar, a glass of malt in his hand. Wife number four, Bev, was vainly trying to get him to leave.
‘Lost her, have you? Careless that. But you’re a Valentine. We’re made that way.’
‘She’s gone, Max,’ Bev told him. ‘I put my head out of the door for some fresh air and saw her leaving with John and Ivy.’
‘Uh-oh. You are in serious trouble,’ his father said, pointing at him with the glass, which was clearly not his first.
‘More serious than you know.’
‘You were supposed to make a speech, too. Or had you forgotten that? Thanks for all the hard work. Great year. Expansion…’
And the rest. The extra bit about Louise Valentine making him the happiest man alive.
He’d got that wrong, too.
Again.
If he hadn’t bottled out of the gala, tonight wouldn’t have been such a huge, make-or-break deal.
He hadn’t been putting nearly enough effort into making her the happiest woman…
It was very late when he pulled up in front of Louise’s apartment, but he couldn’t let her go to sleep believing that he’d let her down. He had to explain. And when he looked up he could see that there were lights on. Despite his relief that she was still awake, he suspected that was not a good sign. It was the same intuition that warned him not to use the key she’d given him, but ring the bell.
‘Yes?’
‘I need to talk to you, Louise. To explain.’
He’d anticipated resistance, but she buzzed him up without comment. She was still wearing her evening clothes. A dark red figure skimming dress that was slit to the thigh.
‘You look lovely,’ he said, moving to kiss her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, turning away before he could touch her.
He’d expected a rocket. Missiles. Fire.
Her cold politeness was much, much worse. He prayed that she was simply thinking of her neighbours…
‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t get to the party before you left.’ She waited, her back to him, very still. ‘I had to take a guest to the hospital. Charles Prideaux, the actor.’
‘Really? I hope he gave you his autograph.’
‘Surely someone told you?’
‘No one knew where you were.’ She spun round to face him. ‘Forget me for a moment, Max. That we had a date. That you were going to turn up with the ring and we were going to announce our engagement. You let down your staff, too.’
‘Lou…’ He hadn’t anticipated this kind of reaction. Louise, calm, was a whole new experience and he didn’t know how to get through to her. ‘I had to take the man’s girlfriend home. Before his wife arrived. She was difficult.’
‘That was not your problem, Max.’
‘Yes, dammit, it was. She was going to stay and make a scene. Confront his wife.’
‘And you thought it was your duty to protect the man from the fallout of his infidelity?’
‘Protect his wife.’
‘Of course. My mistake.’
‘You do understand, then?’
‘Yes, Max. I understand.’
She didn’t sound as if she did. If she’d understood, she’d have put her arms around him and held him and made the whole hideous episode go away.
Louise looked at him, confused, a little angry, and thought her heart might just break.
When she’d heard the car draw up outside, had looked out and seen it was Max, her first thought had been to ignore him. She’d used the deadlock on the door so he couldn’t get in. Then he’d rung the doorbell, taking her by surprise, and she’d known that wouldn’t do.
She owed herself more than that. She needed to face him. Put an end to this once and for all. She’d buzzed him up and then slipped out of her wrap and back into her dress. Stepped into shoes that brought her nearly to his height. Full body armour.
She’d wanted him to see that after tonight there was nothing he could do or say that could provoke her into anger, or reduce her to tears. But even then, some little part of her heart had hoped that he’d find a way to touch her. Bring her back to life.
But she couldn’t allow it.
Tonight he’d not only stood her up, but he’d stood up Bella Lucia to save some sham of marriage. Still trying, in his head, to protect his mother from his father’s infidelity. To save himself from the fallout.
And he had no idea what he’d done. He thought he could brush it aside, that all he had to do was turn up, explain and everything would be all right.
‘Is that it?’ she asked.
‘You want me to go?’
He sounded surprised.
‘You’ve apologised, explained. What else did you have in mind?’
‘Don’t be like this, Louise. It was a genuine emergency.’
‘You should have called an ambulance.’
‘Believe me, I wish I had.’ Then, ‘I have the ring…’He reached into his ticket pocket, produced a perfect diamond solitaire.
‘So it’s true. You did find time to visit Garrard’s?’ She took the ring from him before he did anything as hideous as taking her hand and placing it on her finger.
He frowned. ‘How did you know that?’
‘One of the photographers outside the restaurant said you’d been seen there.’ She moved it so that the diamond flashed fire, burning her with its brilliance. ‘Be prepared to read about it in the Courier’s Diary column tomorrow.’
She took one last look at it, then handed it back.
‘You don’t like it?’
