‘It’s been so wonderful,’ she told him. ‘I’ll never forget this time we’ve spent together, Tom. It’s going to be hard getting used to travelling in less than the lap of luxury, but whenever I get to a beach or see a palm tree, I’ll think of you.’
Whenever she closed her eyes or felt the sun on her face or lay in the dark, she would think of him.
She would think of him with every breath, miss him with every beat of her heart.
Tom eyed her broodingly over the top of his glass. ‘You still want to go travelling then?’
‘Of course.’ Imogen kept her smile bright. ‘Even more so now, in fact. Being here has given me a real taste for travel.’
She turned back to look out at the lagoon. There was a crimson line along the horizon where the sun had finally disappeared, and the darkness was closing in. The bats would be out any minute now.
‘I may not find anywhere as perfect as this, but there will be other beautiful places,’ she said.
Places without Tom.
A silence fell. The shrilling of the insects was very loud as it stretched and stretched, until neither could stand it any longer. Inevitably, they both spoke at the same time.
‘Imogen-’
‘Do you-’
Both stopped awkwardly.
‘You first,’ said Imogen.
‘I just wanted to say…well, it’s going to be hard to talk about this when we get back,’ said Tom ‘It’s probably better if we don’t, if we just pretend this time never happened, but I want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.’
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ said Imogen. ‘I’ve had a wonderful time.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ she said and, as their gazes locked and held, Tom reached out and drew her towards him.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he confessed.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ she whispered, her arms sliding round his neck. ‘It’s hard to believe that this time tomorrow this will all be over.’
Tom bent his head to find her mouth. ‘It’s not over yet.’
Imogen swallowed hard as the plane descended through the grey clouds above Heathrow. This was it. The end of blue skies, the end of bright light, the end of the dream.
They had had one last bittersweet night of loving, but that morning they had dressed in silence. Tom had put on his suit again for the journey back. Imogen was wearing the jeans and top that she had travelled out in. After all this time in little more than a sarong, the clothes felt heavy and constricting and her sandals were awkward to walk in.
When Ali had appeared with the dinghy to take them back to the resort, Tom had helped her into the boat for the first stage of that long, inexorable journey. It would be the last time he touched her.
Imogen felt like a snail being torn from its shell, wrenched away from the island, away from the warm blue ocean, dragged across the skies when, with every fibre of her being, she longed to be back under the coconut palms, sitting next to Tom and watching the breeze ruffle the still surface of the lagoon.
Tom was sitting beside her on the plane, but there the similarity ended. They had spoken little on the long flight. His face was set in grim lines, just as it had been on the journey out, and, sensing his withdrawal, Imogen lifted her chin and withdrew in her turn.
He needn’t be afraid that she was going to cling, she told herself. She had no intention of embarrassing him by telling him how much she loved him. That hadn’t been part of the deal at all. Tom Maddison wasn’t the only one who kept his promises.
Down, down into the cloud cover sank the plane and Imogen’s heart sank with it. Staring out of the window, she felt a pang as the last of the bright blue sky linking them to the Indian Ocean disappeared and the light dulled and it was just London in March, grey and overcast.
Then it was all happening too fast. They were first off the plane, their baggage appeared quickly and they were heading through Customs before Imogen had a chance to think about how she was going to say goodbye to Tom, before she could find a way to pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking.
She tried to stall, wishing frantically that time would somehow slow down, but Tom was already striding onwards, eager, it seemed, to get back to real life. He paused at the exit, his hard gaze sweeping over the crowd in the Arrivals Hall until he identified his driver.
‘There’s Larry.’ He headed towards him. ‘He should have the car waiting just outside. Where would you like to go?’
‘Actually,’ said Imogen, hanging back, ‘I think I’ll get the Tube.’
Tom frowned. ‘It’ll be much quicker in a car at this time of day.’
‘It’s not that.’ She forced a smile. ‘I think I need to start getting back to normal,’ she tried to explain. ‘I’ve had three weeks of lovely luxury, but that’s not my life. The next time I’m at an airport, I’ll have a backpack and the cheapest ticket I can get.’
Her bag was slipping from her shoulder and she hoisted it back, keeping her smile firmly in place. ‘I may as well get used to it now.’
Panic gripped Tom by the throat. He had spent the flight planning how to say goodbye. He couldn’t do it on the plane, with flight attendants hovering the whole time. There were too many other people at the baggage carousel. The back of the car would be their only chance for any privacy, he had decided, but now Imogen wanted to say goodbye there and then in the middle of the busy terminal and the careful words he had prepared were promptly wiped from his memory.
‘Whatever you like,’ he said stiffly instead.
That reference to travelling had obviously been designed to remind him that she had plans that didn’t include him. Perhaps it was just as well they would say goodbye here. God only knew what would have come tumbling out if they had been alone in the back of the car with him trying to keep his hands off her.
‘So…’ Imogen lifted her arms a little helplessly and dropped them back to her sides ‘…I guess this is it.’
‘Yes,’ said Tom. There was a sharp ache in the back of his throat. ‘I guess it is.’
‘See you on Monday, then?’
He nodded. ‘Have a good weekend.’
‘You too. Well…bye, boss.’ From somewhere Imogen produced a brilliant smile, then she turned and walked away towards the signs for the Underground.
‘Goodbye, Imogen.’
Tom stood in the busy concourse with the crowds surging around him and watched her go, and felt bleaker than he ever had in his life. He wanted to run after her, to stop her going through the ticket barrier, to drag her onto the next plane to the Maldives.
But he couldn’t do that. Imogen had her own life, her own plans, and she had made it very clear that they didn’t include him. She was off to see the world. That was what she wanted, what she needed to do. She was young, beautiful, outgoing. Why would she stay with a man like him-older, driven, a self-confessed workaholic?
He was no fun, Tom knew. He had always been too busy striving for success to be distracted by fun. Imogen deserved someone who would cherish her gaiety and ability to live in the moment. She deserved better than him.
He was better off on his own, anyway, Tom decided, making a determined effort to shake off the sickeningly empty feeling. He couldn’t manage this relationship business. He had tried commitment with Julia, and look what had happened! Failure and humiliation.
He wasn’t risking rejection again. He might miss Imogen a bit when she went, but he would get just as used to the new PA eventually, and she wouldn’t distract him the way Imogen did now. It wasn’t as if he and Imogen could ever have had anything in common, Tom reminded himself. They were too different. It could never have lasted.
No, Tom thought as he turned to find his driver, it was all for the best.
Imogen tugged at her jacket as she watched the lift doors close. Her suit felt heavy and uncomfortable, and her feet were cramped in the unfamiliar shoes.
It had been a long weekend. She had smiled and smiled when she’d got into the flat, but Amanda hadn’t been
