She nodded. ‘I’m looking forward to staying in that grand hotel but I wanted to hold you a little longer,’ she reminded, desperately aware that they would have to part in a minute or so. But just for now the seafront was mostly deserted. ‘Imagine this could be crowded with holidaymakers tomorrow. They’re forecasting a warm summer.’
‘Will you be all right?’ he said, ignoring her nervous small talk.
She nodded. ‘It’s easier than going back to Harp’s End straight away. Beatrice suggested I stay overnight so you’re right, no one’s going to miss me.’
Too soon for her they were back at the same corner. ‘We go our separate ways here, Stella.’
‘There’s so much more I want to say to you,’ she admitted.
He nodded sadly. ‘But we were too busy.’ Rafe glanced around and pulled her back into the doorway of a shop that was closed.
‘Come on, Stella. Perk up.’
She shook her head. ‘Not sure I can.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s no happiness in loving you, Rafe. There’s only gloom . . . certainly in the immediate future.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘She won’t let you go. I know she won’t. You have nothing to offer her that could make her give you up.’
She knew she spoke the truth. It was reflected in his dark expression.
‘I could threaten to expose the truth.’
‘About Georgina?’
He nodded. ‘And that I don’t love either of them.’
‘You don’t want to hurt them. Or Grace.’ All the doubt came home to roost as seagulls let rip with their lonely cries above them, as if sensing her despair. ‘No, it’s all hopeless.’
‘Stella, let me get past this voyage we must take. You heard Basil. I have to meet Joseph —’
‘You’ve told me nothing about him.’
‘I will.’
‘When?’
‘When we’re next alone.’
She gave him a look that said she couldn’t imagine it occurring again. ‘He’s your stepbrother according to that conversation with Basil Peach.’
‘Joseph is my brother. There is no further qualification. We grew up together as family – there’s nothing much else to tell and because he’s my brother and asking for me, I will go without further query. As soon as I know more, I’ll share it.’ He paused. ‘Stella?’ Her lips pursed with frustration and she looked down, shaking her head. He bent to force her to look at him. ‘I need your strength and your smile around me.’
‘Even if we can’t touch?’
‘I’ll work something out. But at least I can see you, keep you near. The thought of leaving you is unbearable but I also have to keep you at arm’s length to protect you.’
She nodded her understanding.
‘Don’t let me go alone. It may be . . .’
‘May be what?’ she asked, searching his face at the sadness she glimpsed.
‘I was going to say it may be the last time I see Morocco for a while, if war is a reality. I would like you to see it too.’
‘There’s so much to talk about – I wanted to ask you about your childhood . . .’
‘I give you my word we’ll have more time to discuss our pasts.’
‘I’m more interested in discussing our future.’ Her shoulders drooped forlornly.
Now he did shake her gently. ‘Stella . . . you do trust me, don’t you?’
She looked up, nodding. ‘I know that you love me in the best way that you can. And I know that has to be enough for now.’
‘I want you to know this. I was meant to find you. You’ve opened a door for me, Stella. I see a fresh chance, an opportunity for a new life – the sort I always hoped I might enjoy.’
‘So that’s why I was put on this earth,’ she jested, but it made neither of them smile.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said, his eager expression clouding.
‘I know. I’m being unfair. But Rafe, being your lover will never be enough. I have dreams too. Maybe I am the one who must distance myself; I’m the one who must be cruel and deny you.’
‘Don’t, Stella, please . . .’
‘It hurts to look at you, especially after today. And it’s going to ache to watch you going to bed with Beatrice. It will gall to watch your vicious stepdaughter being facile, smothering you with kisses while callously criticising you.’
‘Wait! You have said you love me?’
‘I do, much as I loathe myself for such weakness.’
‘Then prove it.’ Rafe pulled at the lapels of her coat, dragging her closer and kissed her deeply, owning her for the length of that kiss. When she pulled away, he said it again. ‘Prove it.’
‘How?’
‘Don’t desert me.’
‘Let me go back to London. We can talk on your return. You’ll have perspective and so will I,’ she urged. It sounded so reasonable, despite her churning emotions.
‘No!’ Someone walked by and they both looked away from each other guiltily. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘I need your spirit close and even your smile from a distance warms me. I don’t want another day without you, Stella, even if we can’t touch.’
Against her instincts, Stella nodded. ‘I don’t know how you hide that romantic soul of yours.’
‘Easy. I only reveal it to people I love. So, since the death of my family, that’s you and Grace. Don’t resist me, Stella.’
‘It seems no matter what I say, I can’t,’ she admitted.
‘Good, now kiss me goodbye.’
Stella stood on tiptoe to pour every ounce of herself into her farewell, loving the way he opened his coat to pull her closer to him in yet another cocoon that was theirs alone.
When finally they broke the link he smiled sadly. ‘See you at Tilbury – I won’t be at Harp’s End when you return. When Georgina asks, I shall deny seeing you.’
Stella sighed. ‘I can’t wait for the day when we no longer deny each other.’
Rafe pecked her cheek. ‘I love you – don’t ever forget I said that today.’
‘Rafe?’ He waited for her. ‘Why can’t you tell me what’s in the letter?’
It was his turn to pause. She watched his hesitation, wondering at the myriad reasons he might present. ‘Because when we’re together, alone, I just want to make love to you.’ It was the right one to make her feel safe. ‘When I wrote the letter I wasn’t distracted and I could tell you what you need to know in a logical way without you leaping in to ask questions you inevitably would. I needed to say everything, explain what is necessary, so you can absorb it quietly in your time, make your own decisions without the distraction of my presence. I’m sorry that it all sounds so cloak and dagger.’
‘I have no choice, do I? I trust you, Rafe. Don’t let me down. I was meant to shop today. What shall I tell your wife when she grimaces at my inappropriate wardrobe?’
He winked. ‘It’s all taken care of.’ And then he was gone, hurrying away, his footsteps sounding sad and lonely from the doorway where she stood and only now realised her cheeks were damp with tears.
She hurried back to the hotel, keen to read the letter that he assured would explain so much. Once again she was delayed as she heard a knock at the door.
‘Delivery, Miss Myles,’ someone called.
She opened the door and a young man from concierge was standing laden with parcels, each with the Hanningtons name emblazoned on it.
‘Good grief,’ she gushed, shocked.
‘They’ve just arrived for you. Shall I put them over here?’ he asked, nodding towards an ottoman.
‘Er, yes,’ she said, embarrassed for keeping him waiting. ‘Over there will be fine.’ She’d remade the bed and was glad of that now as she noticed him glance across at it. He was the same person who had offered them a ride in the lift. ‘I’m feeling much better, by the way. My friend made me promise I’d order some food.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied, and she realised he was likely well tr
ained in diplomacy.
‘Oh, wait,’ she said, fishing in her purse for a threepence. ‘Thank you for bringing these.’
He palmed the bronze coin. ‘Happy to, Miss Myles. Enjoy your stay.’
He closed the door quietly and with held breath Stella began to untie the lids on boxes and the string that held together the loose-wrapped parcels.
She gasped as each exquisite garment was revealed. Rafe said he’d organised everything and he hadn’t lied. How had he worked so fast in those minutes while she was panicking about Georgina – perhaps she’d lost track of time. She skipped to the cheval mirror to hold up a deliciously flimsy dress with a floral pink and green summery print with a sash of green the same colour as the nursery at Harp’s End. It sported a cloudy ruff collar that floated softly over her shoulders to form a small sleeve. Stella twisted full circle delightedly to watch it fall long, drifting to just above her ankles, and she could see it would follow her body’s line tightly and show it off. Stella gave a soft squeal of pleasure at its beauty and then another of dismay at the price. But it was one of six new dresses, each more thrilling than the last, with three suitable for evening. One of these was a magnificent black shift of thin velvet that would surely hug every curve. She teared up at his generosity but mostly his fine taste that wouldn’t allow her to look in any way out of place on the ship against the strutting women in his life.
She held the soft velvet of the dinner dress to her cheek, remembering his touch, and wondered at Rafe’s remarks. She would keep her promise and travel with the family, going about her duty. But she also promised herself that everything would change on their return. She knew that she could no longer work for the Ainsworths after this voyage and that she’d better start making plans to return to London permanently in six weeks. She was sure even Beatrice would organise a decent severance pay that would tide her little family over until she could ease back into Bourne & Hollingsworth. After that she couldn’t predict the future but hoped it included Rafe.
Stella repacked the clothes, barely looking at the hats and belts, although she tried on the three pairs of shoes, two of which made her feel like Cinderella with a perfect fit and the other evening heels that were slightly loose but she didn’t mind. Her feet would swell in the heat, surely?
She rang and ordered a tray of food and was told her soup and bread roll would be twenty minutes. After this she rang concierge, thanked the gentleman on the other end for sending up the parcels and arranged for them to be collected tomorrow morning at nine sharp.
‘I shall need a taxi at nine-fifteen please. Would that be possible?’
‘Certainly, Miss Myles. I’ll advise the front desk that you’ll be checking out at nine. Is that suitable for you?’
‘That’s perfect, thank you,’ she said.
Silence settled around her. Distantly she fancied she could hear the waves. She’d missed the sunset and lights now merrily lit the promenade. Stella closed the curtains once again, though. It was time to read Rafe’s letter. She slipped the sheaves out of the envelope and was surprised how tense she felt at what might be explained within.
She read the opening again that she was sure she knew by heart, even running her finger across it to touch him somehow through the ink.
My dearest Stella . . . She blew out her breath through her nose in soft exasperation and skipped to the new paragraph.
I have so much to say to you but time is short, for reasons neither of us have any control over. Now suddenly life is skipping ahead, making demands of me that are hard to explain, but I need to ask if you can trust me. Do you trust me, beautiful girl?
‘Yes,’ she murmured and read on.
I realise what I’m scrawling in haste will make little sense, which is why I am relying on your trust. We are going on a voyage, as you know. I am insisting that you come along because I am going to need you to help me. As yet I cannot be sure of how events might unfold so I cannot explain the extent of that assistance. Suffice to say your help is in the interests of everyone’s wellbeing – and by everyone, I don’t mean my family or yours but the whole of Britain’s population.
She blinked with consternation. What on earth could he mean?
I have never told you the full truth but I need you to accept that what I am about to involve you in is between you, myself and the British government. I am employed by the Secret Intelligence Service in clandestine activities in areas where, because of my background, I can move more easily than the regular English gentleman. To this end I must travel to Africa to meet with my Berlin-based brother, Joseph, someone I trust implicitly who has information that might affect the security of Britain and her allies.
Stella was reassured, knowing that when he wrote this he was not aware of the eavesdropping of that phone conversation, and that he was giving her the truth.
I don’t think of myself as a spy and yet I suppose that’s exactly what I am and how I’ve been operating for many years now. I go where they send me. Sometimes it is a quick rendezvous with other spies to exchange material; other times I simply observe and bring back information. On occasion I go in what they call ‘undercover disguise’ as the boffin pretending to study birds or butterflies when I’m indeed studying a political situation, or perhaps a particular person.
Regarding Joseph, it’s very important I’m able to look him in the eye, Stella. We need few words to communicate – a bit like you and I. We just seem to understand one another and I shall know instantly if he is lying, or simply pretending for different reasons. The fact is, I can’t ignore him. The contact has not been made directly so I’m not sure if he’s in trouble but it sounds as though he believes he is in possession of vital information that our government should know, and it’s my job to get that information safely back to London. He refuses to pass it to anyone else.
I am asking for your help because I cannot be sure that he or myself will not be watched and our connection is certainly known, so any cover I might rely on could already be compromised.
I know you will have a hundred questions and I’m sorry that I can’t answer them, which is where the trust comes in, darling Stella.
Just make sure you are on that ship. If I can, I will try and see you alone . . . if only to see you smile just for me.
Yours, R.
They’d done more than smile now, she thought humourlessly, as she folded back up the letter. Her lack of humour deepened in the silence of her room. Distantly, if she concentrated hard, she could hear the clangour of plates somewhere in the depths of the hotel and possibly the sound was travelling via fireplaces, elevator shafts, even the stairwells. And then even that vague sound was gone, overwhelmed now by a fresh, urgent one that echoed loudly it seemed in her ears and throbbed in her throat as her heart pounded out the escalating fear of understanding that she was now an aide to a spy. What lay ahead for her? For Rafe? What new danger was she moving towards?
Swallowing her fear, she made herself return to the moment and Room 19 where still her life was safe and the scent of Rafe clung to her. Stella glanced at her watch. It was only nearing seven-thirty. She felt physically exhausted but still couldn’t sleep because her mind was moving around in what felt like jagged leaps. She paced the room a few times, her mind blank but her emotions somehow comforted by movement. Finally, she forced herself to sit at the room’s desk, found its stationery embossed with gold lettering, and began to write to Carys and Rory. She needed to explain why that calendar they were counting down would need to be adjusted but that when she came back it wouldn’t be just for a visit. It would be for keeps.
19
The ship had left New York in the last throes of its winter, or so Stella learned from Grace, whose inquisitive way had discovered a wealth of random facts including that this was the RMS Aquitania’s first voyage as a cruise vessel, that it was known as ‘the ship beautiful’, and that it had collided with another in thick fog during the war years.
‘Hmm, that’s reassuring, Grace,’ she remarked as the
y leaned over the deck railing and Stella sighed with pleasure at the sight of the vast expanse of ocean.
‘There are three classes on this ship. Did you know that, Stella?’ her charge lisped.
‘I do,’ she admitted.
‘This is first, where the rich people are,’ Grace continued unselfconsciously as Stella blinked, glad to be accommodated in second class because the kind of person walking around on deck here reminded her too much of Beatrice and Georgina. ‘Why aren’t you here with us?’
‘Well, Grace, your father employs me. Therefore I am seen as staff. He could have thrown me into tourist class – that’s third class to you. Instead, he has kindly given me a wonderful cabin in second class as a special concession and one that I’m extremely comfortable with.’
‘You’re luckier than me then because I have to share mine with Georgina.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,’ Stella teased.
She had deliberately kept her distance from the family as best she could, although she’d been on hand to help Grace with her packing as neither of the elder people in her life cared enough other than to say Mrs Boyd would take care of it. Mrs Boyd backed off when Stella became involved and Stella was delighted simply to be around her happy charge again who was no longer as fatigued and the dull headaches she mentioned had begun to lessen in frequency. Rafe had kept his promise and not appeared at Harp’s End to her knowledge in that final week and true to his word had all but ignored her quayside before boarding ship. It had been up to her to gather all that he needed for his disguise and she had taken her role seriously of assembling his ‘kit’ for Kew Gardens, from his sample jars to his microscope. She had even tossed in his notebook from a previous visit to Africa and the Levant.
He’d warned her, of course, about his intended aloofness but seeing him again after that intimate farewell in a shop doorway hadn’t stopped her heart from drumming faster, or indeed hurting harder to watch him take Beatrice’s arm with such easy affection to escort her up the gangway. Only Grace had bothered to take Stella’s hand but she’d lagged, told the youngster to go ahead with her sneering sister, as Stella realised she had been likely left to ensure that the ship’s purser had the family’s expansive series of trunks brought on board, unpacked and stored away.
The Last Dance Page 27