area he found that Abby was already there, waiting for him. ‘Is she all right?’ She fired the words at him almost before he had reached her.
‘She’s fine. Diane’s talked to her and she’s going to have a word with the mother. She asked me to thank you for spotting what was going on and breaking it up.’
She nodded wordlessly, her eyes fixed on the floor. It seemed that what he’d done met with her approval.
‘You ready for breakfast, then?’ Maybe he’d ask her. About that haunted look in her eyes and the way she’d reacted at the poolside. The way she was reacting now.
‘I’m a little tired. Maybe another time.’
He supposed that ‘another time’ meant when he’d forgotten all about what had happened here this morning. That wasn’t going to happen. ‘Abby, I know that no case of bullying should be taken lightly…’ he didn’t know quite how to put this ‘… but you seem very upset.’
The look in her eyes told him that he was right. She’d chosen to see something else, something that she remembered rather than what had actually gone on here. But her lips, pressed together tightly, showed that she wasn’t about to admit anything of the sort. ‘I’m tired, Nick, and I didn’t react appropriately. It was a mistake.’
‘Our mistakes often tell us more than anything.’ Nick smiled to soften the words. It wasn’t a criticism. Or if it was, it was aimed primarily at himself.
‘And what this one tells me is that I’m tired and I need to get home.’
‘Are you sure?’ He shouldn’t be questioning her like this. Or rather he shouldn’t care so much. If he didn’t care about her answers, then asking would have been okay.
He was about to get the brush-off—he could almost see the lie forming on her lips. He caught her gaze, searching her pale blue eyes, and for a moment he saw the truth and wanted to hold Abby, protect her from every real and imagined threat.
‘I’m going home, Nick.’ She swung her swimming bag onto her shoulder and would have walked away from him if he’d let her.
He’d cared too much, pushed her too hard, and now she’d drawn back. Nick preferred not to think about what that mistake said about him. ‘I’ll drop by later in the week with the detailed itinerary.’
‘Good. Thanks.’
‘Keep up the good work.’
‘Right.’ There was no stopping her from going, this time. She turned and walked away from him, turning in the doorway to give him a wave that looked far more like Goodbye and good riddance than See you later, and then she was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
EUSTON station was crowded, rush-hour commuters streaming from trains and making their way in a concentrated mass to the Underground escalators. Abby stood in the most open spot she could, studying the departure boards. The train for Windermere was an estimated twelve minutes late, which meant there was over half an hour to wait.
No one was here yet. No Nick at the platform entrance, where they’d said they’d meet, and the swarms of people on the station concourse were making her head swim.
Standing on her toes, Abby could see a coffee shop in one corner of the station. There was a queue of people waiting for their early morning shot, but at least she’d have somewhere to stand where her case wasn’t constantly being bumped by passers-by.
She fixed her eyes on her destination and began to march determinedly towards it. She hated crowds. Rush-hour commuting was an art, and she’d got used to it, but she’d never managed to completely lose the feeling of unease at being confronted with a faceless, potentially antagonistic mass of people. And her nerves at the thought of seeing Nick again, despite the fact that they’d been in almost daily contact by email, weren’t helping particularly.
There was a wait for the coffee, but as soon as she had the warm cardboard beaker in her hand she began to feel better. Now all she had to do was find a quiet corner to drink it in. She waited while another stream of people walked briskly past. Her stomach was still churning and she needed to sit down, sip her drink and get herself together.
‘Oh!’ Someone had collided with her case, kicked it to one side and kept walking. The plastic top flew off the beaker of coffee as Abby’s fingers tightened instinctively around it, and hot liquid spilled onto her fleece jacket and dribbled onto the floor.
Nothing like looking where you’re going! The words shot through her head, but she was suddenly too breathless to mutter them after the man. Her hands were full, coffee in one hand, case in the other, the straps of her handbag beginning to slip from her shoulder. As another wave of anonymous faces headed straight for her, Abby scurried towards the only form of cover she could reach, an information board at the edge of the concourse, and leaned against it for support.
‘Not now. Not now!’ She muttered the instruction to herself under her breath, so softly that even she couldn’t hear the words. Her lungs were straining for air and her heart thumped in her chest as if it had decided that it wanted out and the most direct route was straight through her ribcage.
‘Breathe. One… two…’ Her words were louder and touched with desperation this time, but that didn’t seem to make much difference. She was gulping in air too fast and a feeling of nameless, shapeless dread was beginning to engulf her.
‘Everything’s okay. Just slow down.’ Abby tried again to convince her own body to respond, closing her eyes in concentration and then snapping them back open again as the world swam and she almost toppled over.
‘Abby?’ Someone was there. Someone who smelled like Nick. Soft leather and sandalwood, gasped into her heaving lungs and then breathed out again far too quickly.
‘Give her some space.’ His voice rang out. Commanding enough to divert the flow of people away from them. An arm around her shoulders pulled her into the protection of his body and she clung to him, letting him prise the half-empty beaker of coffee from the convulsive grip of her fingers.
‘Slowly, Abby. Breathe slowly. On my count… One… two… three.’
For a moment, her heaving lungs listened and complied with his instructions, where they had ignored her own. But then the noise in her ears and the banging of her heart, craving more oxygen than was strictly good for it, took over again. She was dimly aware of someone stopping, and that Nick had spoken to them, but right now all she could think of was that she had to get out of there.
‘Okay, Abby. Everything’s okay. Come with me.’ He tried to move her, and she clutched instinctively for the handle of her case. ‘It’s all right. Someone’s bringing your bag. We’re just going outside to sit down.’
Sit down. Yes. She’d like to sit down. She’d be okay in a minute if she could just sit down. She felt the slightly uneven sway of Nick’s body against hers as he led her through the automatic doors and out into the fresh air.
‘Would you mind? Thank you. No, she just needs to sit for a moment. Thanks.’ Nick had cleared a space for her on a nearby bench and Abby sank down onto it gratefully. Someone moved up and he sat down next to her, his arm around her shoulder.
Her chest was still heaving frantically. ‘Anyone got a paper bag?
