Melanie marched away and Jack started to lose sight of her in the crowd. He stirred himself and hurried after her. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him, but he couldn’t leave her alone when she was distressed. He followed at a distance. She kept up a brisk pace as though she were headed somewhere specific, then randomly changed direction. Eventually she stopped and watched some children in a playground for a few minutes. Then she climbed on a bus that would take her home. With a sigh, he headed back towards the business district to pick up his car.
He sat in his Mercedes, staring blankly ahead, at a loss to know what to do next. He’d skipped lunch to arrive in time for the appointment because he thought she’d need moral support. Yet the way she’d stiffened when he kissed her gave him the impression she wished he hadn’t bothered. Did he mean so little to her that she wouldn’t even put up with the attention of the media for a short while so she could stay? He’d lived with paparazzi following him night and day for five years and coped with embarrassing articles about his personal life splashed across the newspapers. It was a nuisance, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
After starting the engine, he drove slowly through town back to the hotel. Melanie’s reaction had shaken him. She didn’t seem to want to resolve the problem. It was almost as if she wanted an excuse to run away and leave him behind. When he arrived, he stared out across the neatly manicured lawns and colorful flowerbeds and shrubs, cultivated back to their original splendor. This elegant manor house had been his salvation eight years ago when his own body’s weakness robbed him of his dream. He’d spent what little money he’d had the sense to save on restoring the decrepit Edwardian building. He was proud of what he’d achieved since then.
Could he risk leaving it all behind to follow a woman who might never settle down? He wanted to be with Melanie and Ryan. He loved them both. But until Melanie stopped punishing herself and let herself be happy, he couldn’t see any way forward for them.
* * *
“Why hasn’t Jack come over?” Ryan said.
Melanie caught the abrupt retort that sprang to her lips at Jack’s name. She paused for a second to compose herself, while the sizzling of sausages filled the silence in the small kitchen of her flat.
“Jack’s eating dinner at his home tonight, precious.” And we might never share a meal with him again, she added silently to herself. The thought trickled through her like ice water.
Ryan pouted and stomped around in a small circle looking at his feet. “I want him to play with me.”
Melanie’s heart ached. Ryan would miss Jack so much, and there was nothing she could do other than try to ease the split by being understanding and loving.
“Sit up now. Dinner’s ready.” She arranged the sausages and baked beans to make a smiley face in the mashed potato on Ryan’s plate, then placed it in front of him.
He poked at the sausage mouth with his fork but didn’t smile. “Will Jack come over later to say goodnight to me?”
“I think he’s too busy tonight, sweetheart. We’ll have fun together. You can choose a game to play before bed.”
In the past the suggestion would have made him happy; now he gave a resigned sigh. “All right, Mummy,” he said as though he were doing her a favor. He speared a sausage on his fork and bit off the end without cutting it up.
Melanie didn’t comment. She didn’t have the heart to criticize his table manners tonight. Sitting facing Ryan across the table as they ate, the kitchen felt empty without Jack. She hadn’t expected him to come to dinner after their argument that afternoon, and she didn’t want to see him. Not when he obviously didn’t understand her concerns, despite the fact she’d loaned him her journal. Even so, she missed his conversation, the sound of his banter with Ryan while she prepared dinner, the quiet familiarity of his presence. Jack had become so much a part of their lives.
As she cleared the plates and washed up, she stared out the window at the darkening sky over the stable yard. The upper windows and roof of Jack’s house were visible if she leaned forward. Light from his kitchen window gleamed through the hedge. He must be there having his meal, exactly as she’d told Ryan.
She stood with her hands wrinkling in the hot dishwater and pictured Jack in his kitchen, sitting alone at the small pine table against the wall. What would he eat? Something easy, because he didn’t like to cook. He might even have gone up to the hotel and collected a meal from the kitchen. “Jack.” She closed her eyes as she whispered the word, and a hollow, desolate pain gripped her chest.
“Mummy, I’m ready to clean my teeth,” Ryan shouted from the bathroom.
Melanie pulled herself back from the brink of tears. She must be strong for Ryan. He needed her. She bustled through, cleaned his teeth and tucked him in bed. She pulled the Snakes and Ladders box out and they played on the bedspread until his eyelids drooped.
Once she’d kissed him goodnight, she wandered into the kitchen and found herself staring at Jack’s house again. She dragged her eyes away and her gaze fell on the engagement ring still sitting on the windowsill. She placed it on her palm and looked at it for long moments, a cascade of emotion twisting inside her.
Should she put it back on? The path of her life focused into one moment, one action.
Put on the ring and stay with Jack.
Or not.
She had no choice. With exaggerated care, she placed Jack’s ring on the corner of the dresser, ready to give it back to him in the morning. He would be better off without her and all the trouble that followed her around. The past cast a shadow over her life, and Jack did not deserve to be tainted by that darkness.
She fetched the bags from the hall cupboard, returned to her son’s bedroom and quietly emptied his chest of drawers and wardrobe into a suitcase. She repeated the process in her own bedroom, then stoically collecting the few things Jack had left in her flat, she put them in a plastic carrier bag.
All her other belongings she’d return for when she found a new job and a place to live. It was nearly eleven when she hauled the suitcases into the hallway, ready for the taxi she’d booked to take them to the station in the morning. As she turned the light off, a knock sounded on the door. She hesitated for a moment, a flash of fear passing through her. Could one of the people who’d written the hate mail be at the door? Who else would knock at this time of night?
She clicked on the porch light and peered through the peephole. Jack’s face filled the view. Longing flashed through her and she tamped it down. When she opened the door, he didn’t move, just stood there with his hands at his sides staring at her.
“Can I come in?” he asked eventually. She moved aside. He walked past and wandered into the kitchen without switching on the light.
Melanie followed him, leaving the lights off. In the darkness, it seemed easier to face him. “What do you want?” Hope flared inside her that he’d changed his mind about coming with her.
He went and looked out the window towards his house. “I saw your light,” he offered as if that explained everything.
“I saw yours too.” Melanie bit her lip when he turned towards her.
He looked past her to the engagement ring glimmering on the dresser. Even in the dark, the diamond picked up any stray light and glowed as if lit from within.
With trembling fingers, she picked it up and held it out. “You’d better have this back. Maybe you can get a refund.” When he made no move to take the ring, she placed it on the corner of the table nearest hi
m.
“I saw your bags.”
She nodded.
“You’re going then.”
“I told you, Jack. I have to.”
“What about your job?”
Her job had been the furthest thing from her mind the past few days, but now she realized she was leaving him in the lurch. “I’m sorry. I haven’t given you my month’s notice. The assistant managers will cope until you hire someone else to fill my position.”
He gave an irritated sigh and glanced around the kitchen as if there was something he needed to find. She braced herself for another argument, but all he did was rub his face and shake his head. “So be it.”
As he walked past her, a little spurt of panic made her clutch his arm. He stopped and looked around, so close that if she stood on her toes she could kiss him. The light from the hall glinted off his eyes, turning them sapphire blue, his pupils large and dark.
“Stay.” Foolish, irrational, she wanted him with her on the last night.
He looked in the direction of the bedroom. “Ryan?”
“Asleep.”
By the simple expedient of walking away, Jack pulled out of her grip. For a desperate moment she thought he was heading for the front door, then he turned down the hall that led to the bedrooms. Crazy relief rushed through her that was almost worse than pain.
She followed Jack into Ryan’s room and stood beside the bed. He stared down at the little boy nestled beneath the Chelsea Football Club duvet. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Jack bent and kissed Ryan’s cheek.
The plastic carrier bag containing his few belongings lay on the chair in the hall. He pulled the bag open and gazed inside wordlessly. Suddenly he seemed like a stranger. Normally he smiled often, but he hadn’t smiled once since he arrived.
He stared at her, his jaw clenched. “I should go.”
Her teeth sawed at her lip. She didn’t know what to say but she couldn’t let him go. Once he walked out, she might never see him again. She brushed past him and led the way into the sitting room. It was nearly midnight and she had to get up at six to finish packing. She needed her sleep; instead she said, “Let’s talk.”
Melanie stood by the fireplace. Jack dropped into an armchair and hugged his bag of things, his strong masculine profile silhouetted by the faint light from the hall. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Jack released a long, harsh breath but said nothing. She tried to commit everything about him to memory so she would never forget.
She shouldn’t touch him. Now she had decided to leave, she didn’t have the right. But this might be her last chance, and the thought of never seeing him again ached inside her like a bruise. “Jack.”
Slowly his gaze rose to meet hers, and he set his bag on the ground and held out his arms. She went to him, let him pull her onto his lap and fold her into his embrace. She snuggled against his chest, pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathed in the scent of him. She wanted to burrow inside him and stay with him forever, but even as she lost herself in the feel of his strong hands stroking her back, his lips against her hair and face, a part of her was still unsettled, still eager to leave. She just did not understand herself.
Hours later, she woke with a stiff neck alone in the lounge chair, pale light filtering through the rosebud-sprigged curtains. Jack and his bag of belongings had gone. In a surreal daze, she wandered through to the kitchen. Early morning sunlight slanted in through the window but it didn’t sparkle off the diamond ring and set rainbows across the wall like yesterday.
The ring had gone.
* * *
When the doorbell sounded just before nine, Melanie hurried along the hallway, pausing to check her face in the hall mirror. She pulled open the front door expecting the taxi driver, so the sight of Imelda Summers flanked by Emily rather took her aback.
“Sorry to barge in unannounced. We need to speak to you.” Imelda looked immaculate in a green silk dress with matching shoes and the understated elegance of two strings of pale pink seed pearls around her neck, teamed with matching earrings and bracelet.
Melanie opened her mouth then closed it again. Imelda had the knack of rendering her speechless.
“Hi there,” Emily added and gave an apologetic smile.
“I’m just on my way out.” Melanie wanted to get rid of them quickly. She didn’t feel up to facing Imelda’s inquisition.
Imelda peered around her at the suitcases in the hall. “You’re leaving.”
Melanie didn’t miss the hint of censure in her tone.
With a popping of gravel beneath tires, the taxi drew up behind Emily’s SUV in the stable-yard gateway. The driver climbed out of his car. “Taxi for Mrs. Marshall,” he shouted up.
“She’s not quite ready,” Imelda said before Melanie had a chance to answer. “Why don’t you go through that gate, walk up to the hotel and tell them Mrs. Summers sent you. They’ll do you a lovely cooked breakfast on the house. I’ll pay you for the extra time.”
The man didn’t need further encouragement. He hotfooted it through the gate before Melanie had a chance to disagree. “I’ll miss my train,” she complained.
Imelda shooed her back inside as though she were a naughty child and followed her into the kitchen. “There’ll be plenty more trains.” She sat down at the kitchen table and folded her hands in her lap. Emily followed quietly and took a seat. “I’ll have coffee, half and half with hot milk and one sugar.”
Melanie looked at the coffeemaker she’d cleaned so carefully an hour earlier and sighed in resignation. She put in a filter, spooned in coffee and switched the machine on. “What about you, Emily?”
“White, no sugar, thanks.”
Once Melanie had put a cup of milk in the microwave to heat, Imelda pulled out a chair and patted the seat. “Emily tells me you’re leaving for good.”
“I spoke to Jack on the phone last night,” Emily explained.
The last thing Melanie wanted to do was justify her decision, so she kept her answer simple. “I have to move on.”
“I thought you were engaged to my son.”
“It didn’t work out. I’m sorry.”
The coffeemaker sputtered as the last drips of water filtered through. Melanie jumped up, relieved by the interruption, and poured three cups. She kept hers black. Undiluted caffeine might sharpen her wits enough to deal with Imelda.
Imelda sipped her coffee then stared into the cup. “It was that wretched newspaper story, wasn’t it?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry about that. Marco overheard Jack talking to me about you, otherwise I wouldn’t have told him. Goodness knows what goes on inside that stupid man’s head.”
“Has the local reaction been frightful?” Emily asked with a sympathetic smile.
Melanie looked down at her hands. She hated discussing her problems. Even telling Jack had been hard. “I’ve had some letters making threats.”
Imelda’s head came up. “What sort of threats? I hope you went to the police. I’m sure there must be some sort of law against that.”
“I don’t like to bother the police. I’m sure they’ve got more important crimes to solve.” And they had not been sympathetic in the past.
“What else happened to drive you away?” Imelda demanded. “Have people been nasty to you? What about the staff in the hotel? I’ll have them sacked if they’ve harassed you.”
A flush of embarrassment coursed across Melanie’s skin when she realized nothing had actually happened
to her. The hotel staff had given her curious looks, but the only one who commented was the slightly dim but kind-hearted receptionist who always crashed the computer booking system. She’d asked what it was like to be famous. Apart from that, nobody outside the hotel had even recognized her. Melanie swallowed as the silence lengthened.
Imelda reached out and touched Melanie’s hand. “Is what’s happened so horrible you don’t want to tell us, dear?”
To Melanie’s self-disgust, she nearly nodded. But she couldn’t lie to Jack’s mother and cousin. “Nothing else’s happened yet,” she mumbled. “But it’s only been a few days since the article was published.”
She risked a glance at Imelda and caught the look of incredulity on her face.
“Let me get this straight. You’re packing up, leaving a job you enjoy and breaking off your engagement to my son because a few small-minded people have sent you objectionable letters?”
Put that way, it did sound ridiculous, but Melanie knew how terrifying the situation could become. She forced her head up to look Imelda in the eye. “I’ve lived through this before. It might get worse.”
Imelda’s delicate nostrils flared. “Let me rephrase. You’re running away just in case something happens.”
“No.” Melanie expelled a frustrated breath. Like Jack, Imelda didn’t understand. How could she when she hadn’t lived through what Melanie experienced five years ago. “I want to protect Ryan. In the past, horrible things were put through the letterbox, broken glass and worse. I can’t watch him every minute of every day. I’m not comfortable knowing he might be a target for the sick people who send the hate mail.”
“So you want to protect your son,” Imelda said more gently. “That I understand.”
Melanie nodded vigorously, thinking she’d finally got through to the woman.
“Ryan is the most important thing in the world to you, isn’t he?” Imelda said.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.”
Finally Home Page 14