it now?’
‘Because I kept it,’ he said savagely. ‘Fool that I am, I kept it.’
She could hardly believe her ears. ‘And you never—in all these years—?’
‘No, I never read it. But neither did I throw it away. Today I went to my mother’s home where it’s been stored, meaning to fit it together. But it isn’t all there. Some of the pieces are lost. I came straight back to find you, and you were gone. Vera heard you booking the flight so I had to act fast.’
‘You only just got there in time,’ she murmured.
‘Well, actually—I have a friend who works in airport security. I called him. You wouldn’t have been allowed to get on that plane.’
‘What? You actually dared—?’
‘I couldn’t risk you getting away. It’s too important.’
‘And suppose I want to get away?’
He looked at her in silence. Words could never have said so clearly that what she wanted played no part in this. This was a man driven by demons that were too strong for him, and perhaps also for her.
‘So you want me to explain the missing pieces?’ she guessed.
‘If you can remember them.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured. ‘I can remember everything.’
They had reached La Couronne. Marcel hurried her inside, his hand still on her arm. Several people tried to attract his attention, but he never saw them. Only one thing mattered now.
As soon as they were inside his apartment he locked the door. She almost told him there was no need, but then kept silent. Marcel was in the grip of an obsession and she, of all people, couldn’t say it was irrational. She knew a burst of pity for him, standing on the edge of a dangerous pit. If he fell into its fearsome depths, wouldn’t she be at least partly to blame?
He held out the letter, where she could see tiny scraps stuck onto a base sheet, but with gaping holes. ‘Do you recognise this?’ he demanded. ‘Yes, of course.’
He thrust it into her hands and turned away. ‘Read it to me.’ It felt weird to see the words over which she’d struggled so hard and wept so many tears. She began to read aloud.
‘ “My darling, beloved Marcel, you will wonder why I didn’t come to you when you were in pain and trouble, but I didn’t dare. What happened wasn’t an accident. It was done on purpose by a man who wants to claim me for himself. I refused him, and—”’ She stopped. ‘There’s a gap here.’
‘What are the missing words?’ he asked.
She closed her eyes, travelling back to the past. ‘“He hurt you, to show me what would happen if I didn’t give in,”’ she said slowly. She opened her eyes.
‘Then the letter goes on, “I couldn’t risk coming to you in the hospital because he would have known and he might kill you. I’m delivering this through your door, because it’s the only way I can think of that he won’t find out. I hope and pray that it will be safe. I couldn’t bear it if you believed I’d just walked away, or stopped loving you.” Then there’s another gap.’
‘Do you know what’s missing?’ When she didn’t answer he turned and repeated harshly, ‘Do you?’
‘Yes. I said—’“I will never stop loving you, until the very end of my days, but this is the last time I can ever say so.”’ The signature is still there if you want to read it.
‘I don’t need to read it,’ he said quietly, and recited, ‘Your very own Cassie, yours forever, however long “forever” may last.’ I don’t suppose you remember writing that.’
‘Yes, I remember writing every word, even the ones that aren’t here any more.’
‘“I will never stop loving you until the very end of my days,”’ he repeated. ‘You’re sure you wrote that?’
‘Yes, I’m quite sure. But even if you doubt me, the rest of the letter is there. I told you what had happened and why I had to leave you. If only you’d read it then, you’d have known that I still loved you—oh, Marcel—all these years!’
‘Don’t,’ he begged, shuddering. ‘If I think of that I’ll go mad.’
‘I’m surprised we haven’t both gone mad long before this. And it was all so unnecessary.’ ‘Yes, if I’d read this then—’
‘No, I mean more than that. There’s another reason the last ten years could have been avoided.’ She broke off, heaving.
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.
She raised fierce eyes to his face.
‘I mean that you played your part in what happened to us. It could all have been so different if only you’d been honest with me. Why didn’t you tell me who you were, who your father was? We need never have been driven apart.’
He stared. ‘What difference—?’
Her temper was rising fast. ‘If I’d known you were the son of Amos Falcon I’d have gone to him for help. He’s a powerful man. When he heard what Jake had done he would have dealt with him, had him arrested, sent to jail. We’d have been safe.
‘Everything since then could have been different. You’d have been spared all that suffering and disillusion. I’d have been spared that terrible time with Jake. So much misery because you had to play a silly game.’
He tore his hair. ‘I was just … I didn’t want you to know I came from a rich family.’
‘Because you thought I’d be too interested in your money. Charming!’
‘No, because you thought I was poor and you chose me over your rich admirers. That meant the world to me—’
‘Yes, but there was a high price, and you weren’t the only one who paid it. You spoke of hating me, but I could hate you for what you did to my life with your juvenile games. When I found out the truth recently I … I just couldn’t … so much misery, and so needless—aaaargh!’
The last word was a scream that seemed to tear itself from her body without her meaning it. It was followed by another, and another, and now she couldn’t stop screaming.
‘Cassie!’ he tried, reaching for her. ‘Cassie!’
‘Get away from me,’ she screamed. ‘Don’t touch me. I hate you.’
He wouldn’t let her fight him off, drawing her closer until her face was against his shoulder, murmuring in her ear, ‘That’s right, hate me. I deserve it. Hate me, hate me.’
‘Yes,’ she wept.
‘I’m a damned fool and you suffered for it. Call me every name you can think of. Hit me if you like.’ He drew back so that she could see his face. ‘It’s no more than
