by Sarah Morgan
Megan’s eyes were red. ‘I don’t think you can stay, Tasha,’ she said stiffly. ‘This is so awkward, but—’
‘This is about my brother, isn’t it?’ Scowling, Tasha yanked her cases through the door, breaking a wheel in the process. She leaned her surfboard against the wall of Megan’s hall. ‘You can say anything you like and I’m just going to nod and agree with you. He’s the one who made me go and look after Alessandro. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be in this mess.’ She kicked the suitcase upright and slammed the door firmly behind them. ‘Let’s lock it and unplug the phones.’
‘I don’t need to unplug anything,’ Megan said wearily.
‘Josh isn’t coming back. It’s over. He isn’t going to come round ever again.’
‘No wonder you hate him.’
‘I don’t, that’s the trouble.’ Megan’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat quickly. ‘I love him. I’ve only ever loved him. All my life. I know you probably can’t imagine that, but it’s true.’
Stunned by that confession, Tasha slipped her arms around her. ‘Don’t let him do this to you. No man is worth it. Not even my stupid big brother.’
‘I wish I could feel as angry as you.’ Megan blew her nose hard. ‘I feel as though someone has gouged out my insides with a knife.’
Tasha winced. ‘That’s not good. I’ll try and help you feel angry. It’s easier. First you need to stop focusing on the reasons you love him and focus on the bad stuff.’
‘I can’t bear to think about that.’ Megan pulled away. ‘And I’m being so selfish. You must be devastated. Do you want to tell me the details?’
‘I found out that the Crown Pig Alessandro is virtually engaged to some thin, blonde European princess called Miranda or some other stupid name. He doesn’t want to marry her because he doesn’t believe in marriage so he used me to send her a clear message that their relationship is over. That’s why he invited me to the wedding.’ Tasha crashed around Megan’s kitchen, helping herself to a bottle of wine from the rack. ‘I’m so angry I need to break something, but I can’t break anything in your house.’
‘Go ahead. It’s the least of my worries.’
Tasha glanced at her friend’s red eyes. ‘How long have you been crying?’
‘You don’t want to know. It’s embarrassing.’
‘You’ll be dehydrated. You need to drink something.’ Tasha popped the cork on the wine and filled two glasses to the brim.
Megan’s laugh bordered on the hysterical. ‘The usual cure for dehydration is water.’
Tasha gave an airy shrug and handed her a glass. ‘This will do fine. It’s liquid. Cheers.’ She tilted her glass against Megan’s, worried by how fragile and broken the other girl looked. ‘Drink. To sisterhood. And the therapeutic properties of blazing anger.’ She wasn’t going to think about her own pain. She was going to blast her way through it and keep busy.
‘He slept with his wife.’ Despite her protests, Megan drank half the wine without pausing. ‘She’s pregnant. But I expect you already know that.’
Tasha stilled. Guilt shot through her. ‘Look—’
‘It wasn’t your job to tell me. It was his.’
‘I know it looks bad, and I’m not trying to defend my brother, but knowing Rebecca as I do I can tell you it was all her doing.’
‘It couldn’t have been all her doing, Tasha.’
‘Well, that’s true of course. He should have said no. But he’s a weak, brainless man.’
‘Josh is strong and clever.’
Tasha looked at her with exasperation. ‘You’re focusing on his qualities again.’
‘Sorry. It’s just—I really did think he loved me.’
Tasha sighed, wondering whether the truth would make the pain worse or better. ‘He does love you. I know he loves you. And if it’s any consolation, I’m sure Rebecca was lying in wait on the bed in a skimpy set of underwear or something. Slut.’
‘They were married.’
‘Their marriage has been over for a long time. She was playing games.’ Realising that she was probably making things worse, Tasha picked up the wine and topped up Megan’s glass. ‘Let’s just forget it. Your life is a mess and my life is a mess. You can be sad and I’ll be angry. Whatever works. Do you have any chocolate in the house? That’s good for either mood.’
‘There’s a large box of Belgian chocolates given to me by grateful parents.’ Her cheeks pale, Megan sipped the wine. ‘Do you want them?’
‘Urgently. We’ll share the box.’ Tasha tripped over the hem of her dress and cursed fluently. ‘I just need to get a pair of jeans out of my suitcase. I’m going to break my neck if I stay in this.’ And break her heart because the dress reminded her of Alessandro. She’d dressed with such hope, never once imagining that this would be the outcome. Because she’d been so careful not to dream, somehow the pain was all the more acute.
Anger, she reminded herself. Anger was easier.
Megan looked at the dress. ‘We had such fun choosing that. I thought it was perfect.’
Tasha retrieved her suitcase and delved inside for a pair of jeans. ‘It was a ridiculous amount of money for something I was only ever going to wear once. And now it’s just a reminder of a completely terrible day. I’m going to give it to the charity shop.’
‘Do you know the worst thing? When Josh came here today, I thought he was going to tell me he loved me. And he did. Two minutes before he told me his wife was pregnant.’
Still clutching the jeans, Tasha stared at Megan’s ashen face and bloodshot eyes and wondered if she could have done something to make it easier. ‘I don’t know what to say. Right now I want to seriously hurt him.’
‘I think he’s already hurting.’ Megan climbed onto a chair and lifted a box of chocolates from the top shelf of a cupboard. ‘If I read this situation in a book, I’d think it was ridiculous. Why does life have to be so hard? Start eating. I’m just going to go and wash my face.’
Tasha stood, staring out across Penhally Bay, feeling numb and exhausted.
When the phone in her bag suddenly rang she scrambled to answer it, heart racing. When she saw that it was Josh, disappointment thudded through her.
She’d thought—
Her finger hovered over the answer button and then she heard Megan coming back down the stairs and she lifted her chin and switched her phone off.
‘Which one of them was it?’ Megan’s voice was hard and Tasha shrugged and dropped the silent phone back into her pack.
‘Doesn’t matter.’ She helped herself to a chocolate. ‘Thanks.’ She hesitated. ‘What are you going to do, Megan?’
‘You mean how am I going to carry on working at St Piran’s with Josh there? How am I going to cope with seeing Rebecca pregnant?’ Megan dropped onto the edge of the sofa, her fingers plucking at the edge of her cardigan. ‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. And how about you? You’re living with Alessandro.’
‘Not any more. No way am I going back there. I collected my things on the way.’ Tasha wriggled out of the dress and winced as the zip tore. ‘Oh, dear. Good job I wouldn’t have wanted to wear it again.’
‘You can stay here as long as you like. It’s been years since I had a flatmate.’
‘Seriously? I can stay? I was sort of hoping you’d say that. Are you sure it wouldn’t be an imposition? Just until I find a job.’ She wondered how long it would take for the pain to fade. Never again, she vowed as she tugged on her comfortable jeans. She just wasn’t going to do this again. She was rubbish at relationships.
‘Stay as long as you like, although I suppose that might be awkward for Josh.’
‘That’s his problem, not mine.’
‘But soon you’ll be an aunty and …’ Megan leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. ‘God, what a mess. The awful thing is I haven’t just lost him, I’ve lost you. How are we going to stay friends? It’s going to be so awkward.’
‘I’m used to awkward. You’re talking to the gi
rl who told her consultant to get a backbone.’
Megan gave a choked laugh. ‘I was forgetting that. You’re so gutsy.’
‘It’s not guts, it’s an uncertain temper,’ Tasha muttered gloomily. ‘And while we’re on that subject I probably ought to warn you that I might be arrested for treason. I yelled at Princess Eleanor. And then I punched Alessandro.’
‘Oh, Tasha …’ Megan started to laugh and Tasha found herself laughing too.
‘Will you visit me in prison?’
‘You’ve got to admit it’s funny.’ Still shaking with laughter, Megan wrapped her arms around her ribs. ‘You spent all that time trying to help him heal and then you bruise him again. I’m so glad I met you. Where would we be without girlfriends?’
‘We’d be stuck with men and then we’d go slowly mad.’
Megan sprang to her feet and reached for a DVD. ‘Let’s eat chocolate and watch back-to-back trashy movies.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Megan hugged the DVD to her chest and then turned to look at Tasha. ‘I was pregnant once.’
Tasha spilled her wine over her jeans. ‘Meg! You can’t just make confessions like that without warning.’ Without taking her eyes off her friend, she put her wine glass on the carpet. ‘Who was—? Oh, God, I’m soaking. Oh, never mind.’ Ignoring her wet legs, she bit her lip. ‘It was Josh’s, wasn’t it?’
Megan nodded. ‘We had a one-night stand—years ago. He didn’t know I was pregnant.’
‘But—’
‘I lost it. At twenty-three weeks.’ Megan drew in a deep breath. ‘It was Josh who saved my life. But he couldn’t save our son. He was just too little—too sick.’
Tasha felt the tears spill down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Meg, I—I’m so sorry. Josh never—I didn’t know. I had no idea.’
‘Josh only found out recently, although he’d suspected for a while. That morning you banged on the door of the on-call room—’
‘You’d spent the night together.’
‘I told him then. He overheard something.’ Megan shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.’
‘Is something like that ever in the past?’
‘Maybe not. I still ask myself whether the whole thing was my fault.’ Megan spoke quietly. ‘When I found out I was pregnant I panicked. It wasn’t what I wanted. Or at least it wasn’t what I wanted right then—and nature took me literally.’
‘No! You know that isn’t what happened. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘I developed complications, and …’ Megan breathed slowly ‘… now I can’t have children. I’m infertile. I lost our son. So perhaps it’s just as well for Josh that he’s having this baby with Rebecca.’
‘No.’ Tasha hugged Megan. ‘Josh wants to be with you, I know that.’
‘Well, that’s never going to happen.’ With a sniff, Megan pulled away and fed the DVD into the player. ‘You rang me in a state of misery and since you’ve arrived all I’ve done is moan. It’s the wine. Never give me wine. And stop being so unselfish. Moan to me about Alessandro.’
But Tasha discovered she didn’t want to moan, or even talk about what had happened with Alessandro. It was all too raw. And she felt so foolish. Foolish for believing that what they’d shared was real. ‘I don’t really want to talk. But I do have a question.’
‘You want to know why Alessandro behaved like that?’
‘No!’ Affronted by the suggestion she wanted to talk about Alessandro, Tasha glared. ‘I want to ask you if you happen to know who designed this dress I’ve just ruined. Everyone seems to think I ought to know.’
Tasha slept badly and awoke early to hear a rhythmic banging sound coming from Megan’s kitchen.
With a groan she rolled onto her stomach and stuck her head under the pillow but the banging continued. ‘What is she doing?’ Giving up on sleep, Tasha slid out of the bed and padded barefoot downstairs.
Megan was in the kitchen, attacking a chicken fillet with a rolling pin. ‘Good morning.’ The rolling pin smashed into the meat again. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Er—not particularly.’ Tasha winced as the sound resonated through her brain. ‘Megan—’
‘I’m preparing something for our supper.’
Tasha glanced at the clock. ‘It’s seven in the morning.’
‘I’m pretending the chicken is Josh’s head.’
‘Ah. And is that helping?’
‘I think it might be.’ Megan gave the chicken an extra-hard thwack and the fillet split in two. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘It’s OK. It will taste the same.’ Her head throbbing, Tasha pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’m going surfing.’
‘At this time of the morning? You’ll have the beach to yourself.’
‘That’s the way I like it. Are you working today?’
‘Fortunately not. I have two days off.’
Tasha saw that the scrubbed kitchen table was covered in pages from the internet. ‘Australia?’ She picked one up. ‘You’re going on holiday to Australia?’
‘Not holiday, no.’ Megan gave the chicken one more thwack for good measure. ‘I’m looking at jobs. They need paediatricians, you know. We could both go.’
‘To Australia?’ Tasha started to laugh. ‘I actually think that’s a totally genius idea. Let’s do it. Are there men in Australia?’
‘Apparently, but it’s a big country, so if we’re really careful we should be able to avoid them.’
‘Great. When I get back from surfing, we’ll look at it together.’
Tasha thought about it all the way down to the beach and was still thinking about it as she walked onto the damp, cold sand. Just as Megan had predicted, the beach was empty. The wind blew her hair across her face and she heard the plaintive shriek of a seagull.
For a moment she felt a pang at the thought of leaving St Piran, but then she reminded herself that she wouldn’t have been working in St Piran anyway. She would have had to go wherever the jobs took her. And that may as well be Australia. Maybe that far away, it wouldn’t hurt so much. Presumably the antipodeans weren’t remotely interested in a European principality so she was unlikely to be turning on the news and finding herself looking at pictures of Alessandro.
Trying to block it all out, Tasha plunged into the sea, feeling the cold bite through her wetsuit. Australia had some of the best surfing in the world. She could visit the Barrier Reef—maybe learn to dive.
Somehow try and forget about a certain tall, arrogant prince who had played a starring role in her dreams for far too long.
Ignoring the heavy ache in her chest, she paddled out and took up position just outside the breaking waves. Then she sat up, straddling her board as she stared out to sea, waiting for the right moment.
Could she grow to love Australia the way she loved Cornwall?
Her cheeks were wet and she realised that the sea water had mingled with the flow of her tears.
Furious with herself for crying, she turned the nose of the board to catch the oncoming wave, focusing on the sea and not her feelings. The surge of water lifted her and she paddled hard and then hopped up on the board. She dropped down the face of the wave, feeling the speed build, and she rode the water, arms outstretched, knees bent. As she angled along the face of the wave for that single moment there was nothing else in her mind but the rush of speed and the sheer exhilaration of being carried by the erupting swell of water.
She turned and paddled back into the waves, repeating the exercise until she was exhausted.
Wondering whether Megan had finished bashing the chicken, she finally lifted her board under her arm and walked across the cool sand towards the little path that led towards the cottage.
It was the car she noticed first. Long and black, with darkened glass. Bulletproof glass.
Alessandro stood against the car, watching her, four powerfully built bodyguards positioned at strategic positions around him.
They looked so incongruous in this beauti
ful, wild place that Tasha almost laughed. But she discovered that she couldn’t.
As their eyes connected she felt her heart ache as the pain she’d locked away burst free.
Horrified to feel a lump in her throat, she turned her board, deliberately intending to head back out to sea, but his voice travelled across the sand.
‘Tasha, wait.’
She closed her eyes, clenched her jaw and kept walking.
Last night she’d held it together and she was proud of the way she’d handled herself. No tears. No begging. Just anger and dignity. She didn’t want to sully an otherwise perfect performance.
‘Tasha.’ He growled her name. ‘If you walk away, I’ll assume you’re a coward.’
She stopped dead and anger shot through her like a live flame. Furious, she turned. ‘Coward?’ She stalked back to him, eyes blazing. ‘You’re calling me a coward? Sorry, but were you or were you not the one who invited me to the wedding for the express purpose of sending a message to your fiancée?’
‘Miranda isn’t, and never was, my fiancée.’
‘Almost fiancée, then.’
‘I would never have married her.’
‘But she didn’t know that, did she?’ Tasha pinned a sweet smile on her face. ‘So you thought you’d give her a stronger message. Using me as the messenger.’
‘That wasn’t what I was doing.’
‘Oh, really? Then why did you take me?’ She glared at him and he sucked in a breath and glanced over his shoulder towards his bodyguards.
‘Walk with me for a few minutes.’
‘No way. What the hell are you doing here, Sandro?’ The name spilled easily from her tongue and suddenly she was back in his bedroom, in the intimate world they’d created. And she knew from the sudden blaze of awareness in his eyes that his mind was in exactly the same place.
‘I’m flying to San Savarre tonight.’ Alessandro’s expression was grim and serious. ‘There’s something I want to say to you before I leave.’
‘I’ve said everything I want to say.’
‘Fine. I’ll do the talking.’
‘How did you find me, anyway?’
‘I asked my driver where he dropped you. How’s Megan?’