‘She’ll never forgive me.’
‘Complete honesty. No secrets. You own up to what you did. That’s the only way you’re ever going to be able to face her.’
‘And what if she goes to the police?’
‘She won’t.’
‘People change when they find out the truth.’
‘Not always. I’ve just found out the truth, and I’m still not giving up on you. She deserves the facts.’
‘I can’t …’
I place an index finger on his mouth.
‘No more arguing. I’m taking the lead on this, and you don’t have a choice.’
He gazes at me. Despair and confusion take a bow, leaving admiration and love to step into their place.
‘The tables are turning.’
‘You’d better believe it, Mr Foster.’
He pulls me in for a kiss. It’s long and patient and tender, and it does the job. Before long, we’re together again, completely together, two halves of a whole. So, is this the moment, I wonder? Should I reveal my own little secret? After all, I’ve just demanded honesty. It would be wrong of me to hold it back any longer. As soon as the kiss comes to an end, I study his face, deciding that today’s not the day. He’s dealt with enough over the past few hours. I’ll tell him tomorrow, when things have settled down a little.
Or maybe …
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, dipping his head.
‘Fine. But you’re not. I’m giving you three hours.’
‘For what?’
‘To clean yourself up and get some sleep. And then I want you in the bedroom.’
That does it. He’s close to keeling over with fatigue, but the light returns to his eyes.
‘That’s my territory,’ he reminds me.
‘Not today.’ I glance out of the window. ‘Look at that sky. Bright blue. Have you noticed?’
His arms tighten around me.
‘Every day’s a new beginning,’ he murmurs.
I brush my lips against his. ‘And this is yours.’
I wait until Dan’s in the shower, before I make a move. Opening the front door, I join Beefy in the lobby.
‘How is he?’ he asks.
‘Fine. Just cleaning up. Listen. I need your help. Can you find out his sister’s number?’
‘Which one?’
‘Layla.’
‘Probably.’ He pulls his mobile out of his pocket. ‘I’ll get onto Foultons.’
‘Get me the number, and then lend me your phone.’
He clutches it protectively to his chest.
‘I’m not sure about that.’
‘I need it, Beefy. Mine was nicked.’ I give him a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not going in the river. I just need to speak to her.’
He stares at me, and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. The last time he colluded with me, it ended in disaster.
‘Look,’ I explain, ‘we both know what happened last time she visited. I’m not an idiot. I’m not risking that again.’
His lips part.
‘It’s about the baby,’ I lie for good measure. ‘I need some advice. I need to talk to someone who’s been through it.’
‘You’ve not told him yet?’
‘No. Just trust me, it’s not the right time. But I do need to speak to Layla.’
He grimaces.
‘Oh, come on, Beefy. I’m desperate.’
He stares at me a little longer. Finally, his features soften. He taps in a contact.
‘And Beefy?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t say a word to Dan.’
With surprising swiftness, Foultons provide the number. And with totally expected reluctance, Beefy hands over his mobile. Borrowing his jacket and taking my handbag, I leave the apartment and walk down the Embankment. Layla answers before I even make it to Lambeth Bridge.
It’s a long conversation. After updating her on the latest events, including the fact that I’m pregnant, I take my time, passing on the facts of Dan’s involvement in her father’s death. A long silence follows, and then she confirms what I predicted: she’s not interested in contacting the police, and she doesn’t blame him either. She just wants her brother back. And there’s more to the story, she tells me. A few extra facts come my way, leaving me jittering with excitement. I want to run straight back to the apartment and blurt them out to Dan, but I promise to hold my tongue. She wants to tell him herself. We quickly firm up a plan, and decide to waste no time. She’ll visit on Monday. I just need to find a suitable location.
By the time I end the call, I’ve reached the London Eye. Standing beneath the vast metal stays, I watch the crowds, look up at the pods, and a mad idea enters my head. It’s a long shot, maybe too short notice. But I’m going to give it a try.
‘Wakey, wakey, sleepy head.’
Still dressed but under the covers with him, I brush my lips across his cheek. He stirs.
‘Mmm.’ His arms come around me, drawing me in against his warmth. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after four.’
He opens his eyes. They’re half-focussed but brighter than before.
‘You said three hours.’
‘I gave you a little more. You were shattered.’
‘What have you been up to?’
‘Nothing much.’
‘Try out your new bath?’
‘Not yet. But thank you very much for the present.’
‘My pleasure. So, what have you been up to?’
‘I went for a walk.’
‘A walk?’
Although I’m trying out my best poker face, it’s clearly malfunctioning. He picks up on something, maybe the remnants of excitement.
‘We don’t have secrets any more,’ he reminds me.
‘I know.’ And it’s not a secret, I assure myself. It’s a surprise. ‘I just went for a walk, and enjoyed being free.’
Satisfied with my answer, he squeezes me in closer for a long, dreamy kiss. Slowly coming back to consciousness, he tightens his left arm, restricting my movement, and bunches his fingers into my hair, manoeuvring my head back, giving him access to my neck. It’s his usual dominant way, casting off the baggage and becoming someone
