Alex’s face brightened a little. ‘Really?’
‘Really! Trust me, you’re in with him. He respects you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘That’s pretty cool. I liked him too.’ His mouth spread into a wide, delighted smile that flipped her stomach over with it. Annoyingly. He stared unseeingly at an anatomy poster on her wall, lost in thought. ‘Hey – could we go back for breakfast tomorrow? Before you go to Sophie’s thing?’
‘I’m leaving at eight.’
‘So then leave later.’
‘My mother does not receive anyone before double digits and I can’t wait till then.’
‘So, what? Your father fasts till she’s ready?’
Tara snorted at the thought. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘So then couldn’t I join him? Just him? Better yet, I could take him to breakfast – to the Wolseley or Claridge’s.’
‘You can’t afford that,’ she tutted. ‘And it wouldn’t impress him and he wouldn’t let you pay anyway. Besides, it would be odd for you to suddenly turn up there on your own tomorrow, having only left at midnight.’
‘But if you were to text him now and suggest it? You said yourself we got on like a house on fire, so why should it be odd? You could say you’re going away for the weekend – true – and I’m home alone – also true – and you thought it would be nice for us to do more . . . bonding. True, true, true. And then boom, as soon I get there, I’ll ask him.’
She stared at him, seeing the desperation in his eyes, the urge to be conventional for once and not the irreverent maverick getting by on his charm alone. He wanted to do this properly, to win her father’s respect when it had never occurred to her that might be important to him. It was a matter of honour and, in spite of her own disappointment, she loved him all the more for it.
‘Well . . . I suppose I could suggest it to him,’ she said slowly. ‘But wouldn’t it be odd, you asking him for my hand when I’m not there? Not even in the next room?’
He looked anxious. ‘I’m not sure, is it? I’ve never done this before.’
‘Well, I don’t know! I’ve never been proposed to before either.’
He pulled a face as they looked at one another. ‘I feel . . . literally paralysed with fear of making a faux pas. You Brits, with all your manners and goddam politeness—’
‘Hey! It’s the goddam politeness that’s getting you hitched in the first place. Don’t forget that.’
A light lit up his eyes as he walked slowly back over to her, knowing he was forgiven, knowing she could never stay angry with him. ‘Don’t I know it. I owe it a lot.’
‘Yes, you do,’ she murmured as he leaned towards her, over her, forcing her down onto her back until she was gazing up at him.
‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he murmured, his lips inches from hers now, their fight almost forgotten. ‘I just want to do this right.’
She stopped him with a hand on his chest, knowing she would be lost in the next moment. ‘Alex, I just want you to do it.’
Chapter Six
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ a breathless voice panted.
‘Yes! Keep going! We’re so nearly there!’ Sophie said encouragingly, bounding ahead of their group like an enthusiastic PE teacher. Or Labrador.
The strong gusting wind was blowing them all sideways, flattening the grass and streaming their hair across their faces, making it hard to look up or see. But Tara was aware the horizon had dropped in her peripheral vision as she walked in breathless stomps, listening vaguely to everyone chatting around her.
She still felt tired from their early start and three-hour journey up the motorway. Holly had slept most of the way, her pillow pressed against the seatbelt and still wearing her pyjamas; Tara had packed them a thermos of tea, a packet of dark chocolate digestives, two bottles of water and a phone charger. They had barely spoken and when they’d arrived at the cottage Sophie had rented, to Tara’s surprise, their hostess had put them in rooms with . . . other people! She had assumed that as flatmates and best friends, they’d be rooming together, but perhaps Sophie had wanted to separate them on purpose, so they weren’t too cliquey? Tara didn’t think they were cliquey, though, and surely Holly hadn’t asked to be put in a different room?
‘Look! We’ve done it!’ There was a victorious whoop as Sophie held her arms out wide and turned a circle on the spot beside a cairn. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? This is my favourite place in the entire world.’
Everyone staggered up to the plateau with relief, hoping the view was worth the hurried hike. They had barely dropped their bags in the door before Sophie had bustled them back out again, wanting to ‘make the most of the day’ before the light went.
There were several moments’ silence as they took in the sight of fields parcelled below them like a patchwork quilt, thick hedgerows like wonky, bushy borders, lone ancient oaks like elder statesmen amid the furrows. The land rolled back for miles, tightly tucked beneath a billowing grey sky, occasional drops of moisture dotting their faces. Fresh droppings on the ground suggested the flock of sheep they’d passed a few moments earlier had only just vacated the area.
‘It’s very . . . green,’ Charlie said suspiciously. A born and bred Londoner, she needed to be equipped with good reasons for ever leaving the city.
‘It’s fabulous, Soph,’ Tara panted, trying to get her breath back and wishing, treacherously, that a helicopter could be summoned to bring them back down again. She couldn’t believe how drained of energy she felt. With every passing hour, it seemed, her body was changing in silent, secretive ways.
Holly, the straggler in the group, crested the summit to find the lot of them – except Sophie – sitting on their bums, elbows on knees, heads hanging. Sophie
