‘Isn’t it?’ There was a moment of silence. ‘Tell me something?’ Annie broke it, a sudden note of true curiosity in her voice.
Richard waited.
‘Was there ever a real Isobella? Or did you lie about her too?’
He flinched at that, but answered calmly. ‘Yes. There was.’
‘And… did you love her?’
‘Yes,’ he said again, with no hesitation. ‘But not as I love you.’
With the tip of her finger she very precisely and delicately brushed away the tears from her cheeks. ‘Really? What good luck for her.’
He shook his head despairingly. ‘Annie! Listen to me! Please! I believe you love me. I know I love you. I know how badly I’ve treated you. I swear if you give me the chance I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not now; not soon. But one day, you’ll see. Some day I’ll make you understand what happened; some day you’ll look at me and you’ll trust me again.’
‘Oh?’ She had vanquished the tears; she lifted her chin. ‘And just how are you planning to manage that? Do you have another tame hypnotist up your sleeve?’
He ignored the taunt. ‘I’m going to start by asking you to do something for me.’
‘Me? Do something for you?’
‘Yes.’ He put his hand in his pocket. ‘Davie brought this to me. He found it on your dressing table. He… he thinks you don’t like it.’
The silver brooch glimmered in the sunlight.
There was a long silence. Then, ‘I would have loved it,’ she said sombrely, and this time made no attempt to wipe away the tears.
He moved his hand a little, holding it out to her. ‘Please? Wear it?’
She bent her head, looking at it. ‘For Davie’s sake?’ she asked bleakly, at last.
‘No,’ he said, and there was a fierce intensity to his words. ‘For ours, Annie – for yours and for mine. To let me know that at least there’s some hope.’ He drew a breath, plunged on. ‘For if there’s no hope, then there’s no point in trying and I might as well give up right now. Annie – take the brooch, or tell me to leave. Now. I’ll understand if you do; but I have to know.’
She made him wait for a very long time before she took the brooch from him, pensively turned it over in her fingers. When at last she lifted her head to look at him the shadows of hurt and uncertainty still had not left her eyes. ‘For Davie’s sake will have to do for now, I’m afraid, Richard,’ she said. ‘At least it’s a start.’ She handed the pretty thing to him. ‘Will you fasten it for me, please?’
He took the brooch, pinned it carefully to her lapel; leaned tentatively to kiss her cheek.
Annie turned her head away.
Beneath them the waters of the Seine swirled about the stone stanchions of the bridge, the deceptive, bright, reflectively sunlit surface glittering and dazzling, concealing and disguising the dark chill of the swirling currents beneath.
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Little, Brown
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Teresa Crane, 2002
The moral right of Teresa Crane to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788633536
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Extract from A Passage to India by E. M. Forster reproduced by kind permission of the Provost and Scholars of King’s College, Cambridge and the Society of Authors.
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