mind.’ He’d held up one hand to stop her from speaking. ‘I don’t really want to know.’ He’d turned to go. Lucy had suddenly blurted, ‘Why did you tell me Khaled would recover from his knee injury?’ Her voice had rung out in accusation. ‘He’s still clearly in a lot of pain. That injury is more serious than anyone ever imagined.’
‘I did what Khaled wanted me to do,’ Eric had replied after a moment. He’d looked disappointed, defeated. ‘I’ll see you back in England, Lucy.’
There had been other difficult conversations before their departure, although Lucy had not been privy to them. Khaled had broken the news to his father that he had a son, an illegitimate one, and that he was going to England to see him.
Lucy didn’t know how King Ahmed had reacted to such surprising news, but she supposed she could guess. Khaled had emerged from the reception room tight-lipped and white-faced, and the palace had seemed alive with speculative whispers.
She’d retreated to her room, too tired and overwhelmed to face even one more sliding, sideways glance.
Now that was all behind her—for now. They’d left Biryal for England, but for how long? How long would Khaled be willing to pretend at being happy families in London? Would he tire of her, of Sam? Did she want him to?
The thoughts and desires of her mind and heart were so tangled, so twisted. She didn’t know what she wanted.
She wanted to be safe. The thought slipped, unbidden, into her mind. She wanted Sam to be safe. She wanted her heart to be safe.
Was it already too late?
Cool fingers tapped her hand and her eyes flew open. Khaled was leaning across the aisle towards her, a faint smile on his face.
‘Would you like a drink?’
Wordlessly, Lucy nodded. He was close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the faint stubble on his chin. When she inhaled, she breathed in the scent of him, a strong, woody aftershave, and something else indefinable—something that she remembered as just being him. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she finally managed. ‘An orange juice, please.’
Khaled raised one hand—an imperious gesture, if there ever was one—and an attendant hurried forward. He murmured something in Arabic, and then sat back in his seat.
‘You are all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him.
‘I realise much has changed for you in the last few days,’ Khaled went on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And it must be difficult for you.’
‘Thank you for that sensitivity,’ Lucy replied, her tone containing a touch of acid. Khaled smiled faintly.
‘You’re welcome.’
Lucy turned away from Khaled, towards the window. She had so many unanswered questions, but she wasn’t ready to ask them, or to hear Khaled’s answers.
It was astonishing, she reflected numbly, how quickly and utterly her life had changed. And now that it had she couldn’t believe she’d actually ever thought or hoped it wouldn’t. Yet, even as she struggled to grasp the enormity of the changes ahead of her and Sam, another part of her shied away from confronting the reality. One step at a time. One day at a time. One minute at a time if necessary.
‘Where is Sam staying now?’ Khaled asked, breaking into her spinning thoughts. Startled, Lucy turned to him and nearly jostled the glass of chilled juice the steward had discreetly left on the coffee table by her elbow.
‘With my mother.’
Khaled nodded. ‘He likes it there?’
‘Yes. Mum is very close to him. She’s been a tremendous support since Sam was born.’
Khaled slid her a thoughtful glance, his eyes dark and hooded. ‘I suppose it was very difficult for you, a single mother with a demanding career.’
‘Yes, but Sam has always been worth it.’
‘Does your mother take care of him when you work?’ Khaled’s voice had sharpened slightly, though with curiosity or judgement Lucy could not say. Still, she prickled uncomfortably, ready for a fight.
‘Sometimes. He’s in a nursery now that he’s three, and before that I had a part-time nanny.’
Khaled nodded, his lips pursed, and Lucy steeled herself for another imperious interdict. Would Khaled tell her she couldn’t work, or that he wanted to vet the staff that took care of his son?
And what would happen if—when—he took Sam to Biryal?
Don’t think of it, she told herself. Not yet; it’s too much. One day, one minute, one second at a time.
‘You’ll fetch Sam from your mother’s tomorrow?’ Khaled asked, and Lucy nodded. ‘Then I’ll leave the two of you to settle yourselves. The next day, when he’s back home, I’ll come and see him.’ He paused, rubbing his chin. ‘You don’t need to tell him who I am right away. Wait until he’s comfortable with me.’
How long would that take? It was difficult to imagine Khaled with a child, his child. Would he charm Sam? Would he tire of him? The fear gnawed at her, ate away at her insides.
When would he leave?
It was stupid to be afraid of his leaving, when that was what she’d wanted all along: to be left alone. Yet already the thought of his rejection made her insides twist and roil. Stupid.
‘That sounds sensible,’ she finally said, and took a sip of juice.
Eventually she fell into an uneasy doze, only to be woken when the attendant began to serve dinner.
‘Will you have wine?’ Khaled asked as the steward prepared to pour, and, still befuddled by sleep, Lucy nodded.
The wine was rich and red, and glinted in the dimmed lights of the cabin. Lucy felt as if she were in a fancy restaurant rather than on an aeroplane. The table between their seats had been laid with a linen tablecloth and napkins, winking crystal and creamy porcelain plates.
Outside the hard, blue sky was replaced by endless black, lit only by the plane’s wing lights. The attendant served a salad of baby spinach leaves with roasted peppers and pecans, and then retired to the rear of the cabin. Khaled lifted his glass, smiling faintly.
‘To our future.’
Lucy’s fingers felt cold as they curled around the stem of the glass; she raised it to her lips. Our future. Khaled’s meaning couldn’t have been plainer: he was staying in her life, in Sam’s life. They had a future.
What would it be like, Lucy wondered, to see Khaled on a regular basis? To have a relationship, a future with him, even if it wasn’t the one she’d once imagined?
How long would it last? How long did she want it to last? The prospect of inviting him into her life once more terrified her. What she couldn’t do was invite him into her heart.
Except she wondered how much
