This makes sense. I’ll have a flat in London, you’ll have your place in Maybridge. We could have weekends together. You could come to London sometimes. We’d have three, maybe four nights a week together.’
‘It’s an interesting concept. Five out of ten for trying, but it needs more work. Tomorrow. Now, shall we get back to the clothes thing?’
‘Clothes thing?’
“‘Hold that thought” you said. I’m on hold, but I’m not made of stone, baby…’
The heat rushed to her cheeks and Willow pulled back. Mike didn’t make any attempt to stop her as she turned away, grabbed for her T-shirt and tugged it over her head. She had never been so humiliated in her life. How could he have done that to her?
No. She wasn’t blaming Mike. She’d done this to herself!
Beside her, lost somewhere in the long grass, her phone began to ring. She’d been avoiding taking calls for days, but suddenly anything was better than meeting his gaze and she scrabbled around until she found it, punched the receive button. ‘Yes!’ she snapped.
‘Willow?’
‘Crysse!’
‘Willow I’ve got something to tell you,’ she rushed on quickly. ‘It’s so difficult…’ Crysse was crying.
‘Darling, what is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s perfect. Would be perfect if you were here. We’re in St Lucia—’
‘I know. It’s brilliant. Are you having a great time?’
‘The best. Except…I don’t know how to tell you this.’
‘Say the words, Crysse. Just say the words.’
‘Sean asked me to marry him. Here. We’re getting married here at the weekend…’
Willow’s mouth was working, but nothing was coming out.
‘What is it?’ Mike demanded, sitting up beside her.
‘Crysse and Sean…’ Her mouth was dry. ‘They’re getting married.’
‘Willow?’ Crysse whispered.
‘Sorry, darling, I was telling Mike your news.’
‘Mike? You’re back together? Ohmigod! You’ll come! You’ll both come! Sean wanted him to be best man, but I said he couldn’t possibly ask—’
Mike heard, took the phone from Willow’s lifeless fingers. ‘Crysse, when is it…? We’ll be there… I’ll call Sean tomorrow… Absolutely… And congratulations.’
Willow put out her hand to him and he took it. ‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘You did that. I can’t tell you what it means to me—’ And because, for a moment, talking was difficult, she squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you.’ She shivered. Sniffed. Kept her face averted. ‘It’s getting cold. The candles are going out.’
‘And you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ Big day. Big deal. She tugged at her hand, but he held onto it.
‘Willow?’ He pulled her back towards him. ‘Are you crying?’
She dashed away a tear that trickled down her cheek. ‘No, of course not. Why would I be crying?’
‘From happiness?’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at her eyes. ‘Either that or you’ve sprung a leak.’
Her lips trembled on a smile. ‘Don’t!’
‘What?’ he said innocently.
‘Make me laugh.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Here.’ And he put his arm around her, drew her against him. ‘You have a good cry if you want to. It’ll make you feel better.’
For a moment he thought she was going to succumb to the temptation to let out all the bottled up anguish of the last few days. For a moment he felt like joining her. But then she recovered her poise sufficiently to get to her feet. Mike followed suit and she looked at him.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind doing this for Sean?’
‘Hell, no. It’s my duty. And if he gets cold feet at the last minute, you can be sure I won’t advise him to head for the hills the way my best man did. I can tell him, from firsthand experience, that the only thing to do is stay put and work it out.’
‘I suppose I should say I’d do the same for Crysse. Except she isn’t as stupid as me.’
‘You’re not stupid. I was the stupid one.’ She would have argued with him, but he turned her around and gave her a little push in the direction of the cottages. ‘Go. I’ll clear up here.’ She walked a few paces, looked back uncertainly. ‘I’ll call you in plenty of time in the morning.’
‘We need to make arrangements, tell people—’
‘You can leave all that to me.’
‘At least we won’t have to pack,’ she said.
‘No, we won’t have to pack.’ Their suitcases were all ready. Waiting for the honeymoon that hadn’t happened.
She walked slowly back to the cottages. She needed Mike. Wanted him beside her, holding her, but he was right. They needed to sort out exactly where they were going. What they wanted. More importantly she needed to sort out some things with her family. Make her peace with her mother. She took a deep breath and made the call.
‘Mum? It’s Willow. I’m sorry—’
Mike cleared up the remains of their picnic, then leaned against the tree, trying to think of some way to sort out their future, make it possible. After a while, the navy blue darkness was punctuated by a square of yellow light as Willow switched on a light upstairs in her room. He imagined her preparing for her big day, lunch with Toby Townsend at the Globe. She deserved a chance at the big time. He didn’t think she’d enjoy it that much, find much heart up there, but she needed to find that out for herself.
That heart was everything.
He took out his cellphone, keyed in a number. ‘Dad? It’s Mike. I’m sorry—’
‘How was it?’ Mike had called her at the Globe, told her not to come back to the cottages but to meet him at Heathrow, at the check-in desk. He had picked up her suitcase, her passport.
‘Different,’ she said. ‘Frenetic. Crowded.’ She thought of the way everyone had been crammed into a huge open-plan space, with scarcely room to swing a cat. They had a cat at the Chronicle. He lived in the offices and was spoiled rotten and as fat as butter. ‘This is a bit of a rush isn’t it. The wedding isn’t until the weekend. What’ll Emily do without us?’
‘It
