Out on a Limb

by Lynne Barrett-Lee

  And then he does something completely unexpected. He plunges a hand into a pocket in his coat and pulls out a small rubber bone. It’s not quite like the one that was purloined by the Airedale. But similar. He stoops down to give it to Spike. Then he speaks to him too. I am now quite at a loss.

  ‘There you are, mate,’ he says softly. And he ruffles Spike’s fur.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, stunned. ‘That was…um…really thoughtful. But you really didn’t need to go to all that trouble, you know.’

  Not when you’ve got so much else on your mind. Not when… Oh, God, Abs. Just not.

  He rises. A touch stiffly. ‘No trouble,’ he says. ‘I was in a pet shop with my niece and I saw it. So I bought it.’

  And looks almost embarrassed to be admitting that he’s done so. Or maybe just embarrassed full stop. I fold my arms tightly across my chest and observe him. I can barely breathe anyway, so it won’t make much difference. ‘Gabriel,’ I say. ‘Are you honestly trying to tell me you drove all the way back here from Tiverton just –’ I gesture, ‘– to give that toy to my dog?’

  Now he shakes his head slowly. ‘No, Abbie,’ he says. As if only just having made his mind up. ‘I’m not.’

  I unfold my arms again. ‘Then why areyou here?’

  ‘You really need to ask that?’

  ‘Yes, I really need to ask that.’

  ‘To tell you I love you,’ he says.

  *

  There’s probably a protocol. There must be. It’s like Dear Sir and Yours Faithfully. Rhubarb and custard. Thank you and you’re welcome. There must be.

  I must have seen countless films, read countless books, heard countless stories, any and all of which could readily supply me with an appropriate response to what he’s just said, but for the life of me, I can’t think of one that feels right.

  There’s the obvious one, of course. And, to be fair, it’s the one that came right into my mind. As it would. Didn’t have to travel far, after all. Except my heart’s in my mouth and it’s getting in the way. I am dumbstruck. Astounded. Can this be?

  Gabriel is still standing in the middle of my hall, still frowning, still filling the whole space with his increasingly agitated presence. And looking like he’s just had a communication down his earpiece that a low pressure system is due in any time.

  Which might squash him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. He looks, if anything, even more uncomfortable than at any time I’ve seen him before. And quite possibly as pole-axed as I am. Bar Charlie, who doesn’t count because he says it to everyone, I haven’t had a grown man declare that he loves me for something approaching twelve years. He clears his throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, searching my dumbstruck expression. ‘I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, should I?’

  Questions, questions. I don’t know. Should he? Is there ever a wrong time to tell a woman that you love her?

  ‘No! I mean…well, yes, but, God, Gabriel. You can’t mean that!’

  He looks astonished himself now. ‘Of course I mean it. I love you.’

  Again. A second time. I love you. He loves me. ‘But –’

  He grips both my hands now. ‘But nothing. I do.’

  ‘But Lucy –’

  His face clouds again. And then he exhales. And it’s a veritable Mount St Helens of a blow. Then he lets go my hands, and brings one of his own up to my face.

  ‘Abbie,’ he says, and his voice is very soft now. ‘This has been the most appalling and wretched week of my entire life, and I’d have given anything for it not to have happened. Not to have hurt her. Not to have done such a terrible thing. But it had to happen. Because much as I care for her, she isn’t you.’ He moves his thumb across the contour of my cheek. ‘Why else do you think I cancelled my wedding?’

  ‘I didn’t realise,’ I say, feeling the warmth of his palm suffuse my skin. ‘I thought she had. I thought…oh, God, Gabriel, I don’t know what I thought. I don’t know what to think. This is all just…well. It’s just such a lot to take in.’

  He lowers his hand now, for which I’m really most grateful. It’s affecting my balance. It’s affecting my brain.

  And his too, it seems. He’s looking angsty again. Frowning. The hands go back into the pockets and then he’s off down the hall. Four strides to the dining room door and then back, Spike looking on, lead in mouth, from halfway up the stairs.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he says, as if he’d just whipped Him out for the purpose. ‘I’ve got this all wrong, haven’t I?’

  I grab the newel post, for support. ‘Got what wrong?’

  He exhales heavily again. ‘About you. About us. I thought you knew. I thought you felt the same…I thought…’ He’s close in front of me again. ‘Abbie, are you really trying to tell me that you had no idea?’

  I shake my head. ‘No. I thought you loved Lucy! Why would I think otherwise?’

  ‘Because…because, God, Abbie, isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Yes, now.’ Gawd, and then some. It’s dizzyingly obvious. ‘But before – I mean the last time I saw you and everything –’

  He grabs my hand again. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I honestly can’t believe you didn’t know.’

  ‘Gabriel, I didn’t. I thought she…I mean, you looked so unhappy. I –’

  His face is pale. He grips my hands tighter. ‘That’s because I have been. It’s been hell. To have to do that to someone…’

  ‘I know, Gabriel. I know.’ Which is not strictly true. I can’t even begin to imagine. Such a terrible decision to have to make. Such a big, big decision. To have to break someone’s heart.

  And for me. Even now, I can barely take it in. He did it because of me. Because he loves me. And no matter how much I would wish things to be otherwise for her sake, for myself, for my happiness… ‘Oh, Gabriel, this is so difficult.’ I grab some air. It feels thin. As if I’m beached up at the summit of some mountain as well. Or up in the stratosphere. Up in the clouds. Above the clouds, even. He’d know. Yes, there.

  ‘All right,’ I say, because there seems little point now in doing otherwise, really. I’ve already bared more than my soul to this man. ‘Okay, yes,’ I say. ‘Yes, I thought, Gabriel. I thought lots. I thought all sorts of things I had no business to be thinking. I thought things I didn’t even dare to be thinking. Because however incredulous you are at the thought, I never thought for so much as a microsecond of an instant that someone like you would fall in love with someone like me. And you were with someone, weren’t you? You were engaged to Lucy. And so I unthought them quick. Because thinking them hurtme. So yes, you’re quite right. I had no idea. Really. I mean I did but I didn’t and I couldn’t have wished it because that wouldn’t have been right, and I so, so don’t want to be someone like my mother, lurching from one pointless infatuation to the next one, but now it is right, because you’re here and you did that for me and now I’m all in a state and I think I may need to sit down fairly soon. There. Will that do you?’

  I thought he’d be relieved. But he’s not. Now he’s frowning. He lets go one hand and inspects me through narrowed eyes. ‘Can you quantify an instant?’

  I blink at him. What? Can I? yes, I can. ‘It’s the same as a moment.’

  He lifts an index finger. ‘Ah, but can you quantify a moment? You know, in temporal terms?’

  I am utterly at sea. ‘I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the scientist round here, after all.’

  He waggles his finger. ‘No, you can’t. It’s too imprecise a term.’ He brings his arm down. ‘But it’ll still do very well for my purpose.’

  ‘What purpose?’ I ask him. ‘You’d better hurry up and tell me, Gabriel, because I think I’m about to keel over at any moment.’

  He looks around him. Considers. Then he takes my left hand, and he leads the way through to the living room. And then sits me on my sofa and then sits down beside me. And then gathers up all my wispy overgrown bits of fringe and coils them gently, oh-
so-gently, behind my ears.

  ‘The purpose,’ he says finally, ‘of explaining, precisely, just how very little time it took for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you.’

  Time stops for, oh, about twenty-seven years. And when it starts up again, he’s still there, just the same. But now he’s moving towards me and caressing my face with his fingertips, and his image is blurring because of the tears in my eyes. I brush them away because I want so much to keep it. Crystal-clear in my mind, with the words he’s just spoken. Because I really can’t believe that something so wonderful will ever be said to me again.

  ‘Or, more precisely,’ he murmurs, as he folds his arms around me, ‘not someone like you. Just you, Abbie. You.’

  I never thought it was possible to think such utter twaddle, but right now, as our lips meet, it doesn’t feel silly. I really could drown in his eyes. Swim around a bit first. Feel their charcoal caress. And then just drift into the depths and die happy.

  But I’m a level-headed girl and besides, Spike is watching. With his lead still in his mouth and a face on.

  Gabriel sees too. ‘I think he’s feeling left out. Do you think we should take him for his walk?’

  We. For his walk. Should we take him for his walk. Yes, we must, and we will. And we’ll do lots of talking. About us. About him. About the watch. About my mother, and his father. About the terrible thing he’s had no choice but to do, and about how I shall make him feel better. About all the things – so manythings – that I don’t yet know about him. But we won’t buy any biscuits, and Dee really won’t mind.

  I stand up. I pick Spike up. I take him to the kitchen. I give him some choc drops and I plump up his bed. And when I go back into the living room, Gabriel’s standing by the window. Scanning the pink remnants of the low October sunshine, his hands clasped together in his thicketty gold hair.

  He turns as I enter and spreads both his arms. ‘Spike’s tired,’ I tell him. ‘So he’s gone to have a lie down.’

  He enfolds me between them. ‘Is that so?’ he says.

  I’m in heaven. I must be. ‘Just a short one,’ I tell him. ‘A power nap. Half an hour, tops.’

  He smiles then, and dips his handsome face to meet mine. But then he stops. ‘Abbie,’ he says, glancing behind me and smiling. ‘Why is there an artificial leg on your mantelpiece?’

  I turn to look. ‘Oh, that. Don’t worry. It’s not related or anything. It was given to me when I left my job at the hospital. It was our mascot. It was supposed to bring me luck ’

  His kiss meets my words just as my hands reach his hair. As gloriously golden as an archangel’s should be. Celestial. Perfect. He moves his lips softly against my cheek as he speaks. ‘And has it been lucky for you, Abbie McFadden?

  I kiss him again. Just to be sure I’m not dreaming. ‘You know what, Gabriel Ash?’ I answer. ‘I think it has.’

  End

  Epilogue

  NOEL, NOEL! A Festive Email from Seb!

  Hiyah, Mum. How’s it going? Merry Christmas and all that!

  Actually, I just thought I’d check in before we head off for the Alps. Jake says Hi. Dad says Hi. Elise says thanks for the chocolates and the cake. Can she have the recipe, plz?

  So. What’s new? Are you packed yet? We’re all over the moon to hear the news about the New Year gig. Think I am going to have one famous little brother! I shall make sure he comes back in one piece…

  Oh, by the way, didn’t have Nana’s new address so have sent her card and stuff in the envelope with yours. That okay? Pass it on when you see her? Hey, and you must tell me when the ad is going to be on. We can pick it up on satellite. LOL!!!!!!

  We’re leaving for Courcheval sometime tomorrow. 30 cms on the lower slopes already. Hurrah! J and I have a bet on with Dad that we can get down from Saulire back to 1850 before he does. There’s beer riding on this so I’m well in training. You’ll be missed, of course (natch!) but I guess you won’t mind (!!!!)

  Can’t tell you how pleased J and I are about your trip. We were worried about you being stuck at home on your own over Christmas . (Ahhhh…) You will have such an ACE time. Don’t bother about trailing round the Murano factory. They’ll only make you buy some awful vase or something. But you must go and have a Bellini in Harry’s bar (tho v.v. expensive!). Gabriel sounds cool. (Note from J – NOTHING like H!!!) But amazing how things turn out, huh?! You’re having almost as hectic a gap year as me!

  Anyway, better dash. Have to go pick up Jon from the station. Off on the piste (again! U can tell, non?) tonite !!!! (don’t worry ‘bout J – I will take care of him, promise…) Love to one and all. Give Spike a big hug.

  Take care.

  Love you Mum.

  Seb xxxxxxx (and Jake!)

  PS Oh, and if you spot my sunglasses anywhere in St Mark’s Square, grab them for me, ok?!!!!!!!

  If you have enjoyed this book

  please visit our website at

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  to discover more great authors like

  Grace Wynne-Jones, Jane Wenham-Jones and Della Galton.

  Thank you!

  About the author…

  Lynne Barrett-Lee is the author of five novels and has also been selected to be part of the new Quick Reads initiative with her book, Secrets.

  Lynne lives in Cardiff with her husband and three children.

  For more information please visit

  www.lynnebarrett-lee.com

  Also by Lynne Barrett-Lee…

  A modern twist on Cinderella

  Radio Wales DJ Jack Valentine finds a lost trainer on a station platform. With echoes of Cinderella, he appeals on his show for its owner, Hope Shepherd, to come forward.

  Hope handles publicity for a Cardiff based charity, Heartbeat. Encouraged by colleagues to secure Jack Valentine to raise the profile of an upcoming fun run, she reluctantly heads for the studios.

  The attraction between Hope and Jack is immediate but, bruised and battered by their recent divorces, they are reluctant to risk romance again

  Barefoot In The Dark is a bitter-sweet novel about taking the first steps towards trusting again. But when love at first sight is the last thing you’re after, is a fairytale ending an impossible dream?

  A witty and romantic thirty-something novel about a woman who thinks she may have found her soulmate – via e-mail.

  Fed up, frustrated and fast approaching forty, Charlie Simpson hasn’t had many high points in her life just lately. The only peak on the horizon is her ambition to climb Everest, if she could only get organized and save up the cash.

  However, via her newly acquired laptop, she stumbles upon a stranger who’s a like-minded soul. Like-minded, perhaps, but no fantasy dream date. Though virtual, he’s of the real-life variety – he may be a hero, but he has a wife.

  Charlie hasn’t a husband, but she certainly has principles, and they’re about to be hauled up a mountain themselves. And, of course, her mum’s always said she shouldn’t talk to strangers. The question is, is now the time to start breaking the rules?

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27


  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the author