‘I think she trusts me well enough,’ he said, heading to the door with a sigh. When he got there, he turned back. ‘I don’t think I can be particularly proud of my own actions at the weekend.’
‘Oh?’ She stopped in the act of clearing her papers away.
‘I could have stopped Janosik going in after Celina.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you could. If you’d done that, she would have died.’
‘It was a conscious choice. I could have gone in with him, and helped him to save her. But I didn’t do it.’
Nerissa, who knew him well, considered. ‘Not, I suggest, because you were scared.’
‘No. It was because if I’d gone in, Bronte would have gone in, too. I judged that their lives weren’t worth as much as hers. Which is deplorable. I ought to be ashamed, and the worst thing of all is that I’m not.’
‘If you ask me,’ she said with sympathy, ‘you’ve put yourself on the line, body and soul, rather more often than I think necessary, in the past. You weren’t even on duty, and if Nick had listened to you earlier, the situation wouldn’t have arisen. They’re both still alive. So are you, and so is Bronte. That’s a result, as they say. So, go home and stop worrying about how well you did a job you should never have had to do.’
He left her feeling a little more cheered, though he could never feel entirely happy when Bronte was being cool with him. Even though he knew she was doing so for her own protection rather than because of something he’d done, he believed that in wholesome relationships, a couple helped one another. And he’d be there to help her, if she was only prepared to ask him.
Walking back along Raeburn Place, he took a quick detour past her flat, but he didn’t knock on the door. Even if she was there, she wouldn’t want to see him.
She phoned while he was in the kitchen, putting together an attempt at a pasta sauce. ‘Marcus. Hi.’
His face split into the broadest of grins. ‘Good of you to call. I need your advice.’
‘What about?’ her voice was riddled with suspicion.
‘How much onion do you put in a pasta sauce for one?’
‘What? You’re cooking? Are you all right?’ She laughed in astonishment.
‘I’m learning to be self-sufficient for when you aren’t around to cook my supper.’
‘Oh God. I think that may be taking equality a bit too far for safety. Don’t do anything silly.’ And then a pause. ‘Shall I come round? You could double the quantity and make it for two. Under my close supervision, of course.’
He was never sure whether it was counterproductive to sound too keen. ‘I’d better leave out the bacon, then.’
‘I’m on my way home, and I’m not far away. I’ll come straight by, shall I, before you do any damage? And anyway, I want to talk to you.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Maybe this was another step on the way forward. Maybe, now, they could move on.
Maybe.
Sooner than he’d expected, the buzzer went for the main door of the block. Laying down the knife, he pressed the buzzer to open it, then went to turn the heat down under the pan before he returned to the hallway and flipped open his front door.
Outside, a man with Bronte’s eyes stood flanked by two others, younger than him. The older man already had his foot in the door.
Chapter 41
The first thing I saw as I came round the corner to Marcus’s flat was my dad’s car parked in the street outside it. Maybe — just maybe — I’m going to have to meet this man of yours, he’d said, but he hadn’t asked me to arrange a meeting.
You can love someone and still believe they’re wrong. You can accept that they act in what they think is your best interests, and yet disagree. My family loved me too much to give up on me, and because I trusted enough in that, I wasn’t going to weaken and give up the person I really cared for. But the fight wasn’t over.
I’d thought Dad’s heart was thawing, but I should have known it was too good to be true. In the end, he was incapable of seeing beyond intimidation to enforce his will. He’d have brought Liam and Finlay for physical and moral support, and they’d be pumping each other up and trying to outdo each other in testosterone. And then what?
In some moment of Freudian submission, I’d attached Marcus’s keys to my key ring, in case I might ever need them. With trembling fingers, I fumbled at the door to the stairwell, and ran up the three flights of stairs to his flat, leaning heavily on the bell.
No-one answered. When I lifted the flap of the letterbox, angry voices from inside confirmed my suspicions. Dad hadn’t come at Marcus’s invitation, or Marcus would have told me about it when I phoned.
I fitted the key in the lock and opened the door.
‘I’m warning you to keep away from my girl!’
My dad was standing with his hands on his hips in the kitchen, while Liam and Finlay stood flanking him like bodyguards. Marcus, deploying all his peacemaking skills, had his hands raised, trying to calm the situation. ‘That’s a choice for Bronte, isn’t it, Mr. O’Hara?’
Dad’s shouting gave way to what I recognised as a dangerous calm. ‘My daughter is very precious to me.’
‘Yes. She is to me, too.’
‘I don’t like the way you show it. You, and people like you, have no right—’
Marcus, backed against the kitchen unit and looking around to assess his options, saw me. Instinct trapped him into a smile but as he took a step towards me, Liam mistook his intentions and took a swing at him while he was distracted, knocking him to the ground.
That was enough. As he went crashing to the floor, I flew from the hall into the kitchen. ‘Liam O’Hara. How dare you? What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Finlay, catching me by both wrists, held me back, his fingers tightening on the bruises that Marcus’s heroics had left there. I turned and kicked him, as hard as I could, on the inside of his shin. He let me go, swearing.
‘What’s going on?’ I confronted Dad, whose eyes had narrowed but who somehow kept his temper. ‘Who asked you to come here?’
‘This is nothing to do with you, Bronte.’
‘This is everything to do with me. How dare you?’ I stepped forward to face him.
Fury, with Marcus and with me, over-ruled his better judgement. I knew the signs, and stepped back as he raised a hand.
‘That’s enough!’ Marcus’s conciliatory tone had gone. Every ounce of his authority replaced it. ‘If you lay one finger on her, I’ll have you arrested for assault. So, you stop. Right now.’
Common sense broke through a fog of red, and Dad stepped back, but if he could grasp calm, I couldn’t. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I bet Mum doesn’t know you’re here. She wouldn’t stand for it.’
He put his hands up, as if to deflect my fury. ‘Bella. I’m looking out for you. I’ve got your interests at heart. Nobody came here for a row. I just wanted to talk—’
‘What, the three of you, rolling up like that, just wanting to talk? Aye, that’ll be right! But that’s so like you — all three of you, thinking you can take charge of my life, as if I was a feeble, helpless little flower. Just because you were fortunate enough to be born with balls!’ I glared at Liam. ‘Allegedly.’
‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ he bleated.
‘And what would the three of you have done if I hadn’t? What would it have achieved? It certainly wouldn’t have changed my mind. You can all get out right now. And when you want a sensible conversation, we’ll have one. But not until you’re ready to be reasonable.’
I turned back to Marcus, who was still sitting on the kitchen floor where Liam had sent him sprawling, and giving every indication of enjoying the show. ‘Come on, handsome. Looks like I’d better stay here tonight. You obviously need someone to keep an eye on you.’
He didn’t need a hand up, but I offered one for show, and he was smiling as he took it and let me haul him to his feet. ‘Thanks, comrade.’ He winked at me.
The thrill of victory flowed th
rough me as I turned away. ‘Off you go, Dad. And think about this before you try and talk to me again. I love Marcus. He loves me. You’ll never change that, so you’re going to have to learn to live with it.’
He faced up to me for a moment longer, but he knew he was beaten. ‘Don’t expect my blessing, Bella.’
‘Goodbye, Dad.’ I stepped past him and opened the front door. ‘You, too.’ I nodded Liam and Finlay past me out of the flat in their turn. ‘I’ll see you later.’ And I waited until the last echo of their footsteps faded into silence at the bottom of the stair.
‘What a show that was.’ Marcus was shaking his head in mock-admiration as I closed the door on them. ‘You were a complete whirlwind.’ He gathered me into his arms, and our lips met in a kiss. ‘I’m glad I’m not your brother.’
‘We wouldn’t be doing this if I was.’ Yes, all was well. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Perfectly. In fairness, I don’t think your dad would have tried anything. Just been a bit heavy with me. But I could have calmed him down.’
‘Obviously. I could see you were making great progress there.’
‘I didn’t need to. You were brilliant. Except for that little slip.’
‘Which one was that?’
He brushed my forehead with his lips. ‘You admitted you love me.’
I’d never meant to say it, but now I could no longer pretend. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder. ‘Wasn’t it always obvious? Though I’ll be honest. After what happened, I didn’t want to love you and I tried my hardest not to.’
‘And that’s my own fault. But courage is loving someone who makes things difficult for you. And you’re the bravest person I know.’
‘You always knew the truth, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. But I wanted to hear you say it, and I want you to say it again.’
‘Marcus Fleming.’ I reached up, slid my hand behind his head, and pulled him towards me. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ And I lost myself, and found myself, in his kiss.
THE END
About Jennifer Young
Jennifer Young is an Edinburgh-based writer, editor and copywriter. She is interested in a wide range of subjects and writing media, perhaps reflecting the fact that she has both arts and science degrees. Jennifer has been writing fiction, including romantic fiction, for a number of years with several short stories already published. She has six novels published with Tirgearr Publishing.
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Also by Jennifer Young
Blank Space
When Bronte O'Hara finds an injured man in her kitchen in the run-up to an international political summit in Edinburgh, a world she thought she'd left behind catches up with her. But once the man has made his escape, the police seem less interested in finding out where he went and how he came to be there than they are in Bronte's past - more specifically, her ex-boyfriend, Eden Mayhew.
Eden's an anarchist, up to his neck in any trouble around - and he's missing. The police are keen to find him, certain that he'll come back. Who can she trust - and what has Eden's disappearance got to do with the handsome stranger?
After Eden
In the aftermath of a violent G8 summit when she almost lost her life, Bronte O’Hara finds herself fighting against her feelings for Marcus Fleming, the policeman who saved her. When Marcus is cleared of any wrongdoing over the deaths of three people during the undercover police operation, Bronte isn’t the only one who struggles to come to terms with the outcome. The friends and relatives of those who died are determined not to let the matter rest, whatever the cost. Some are looking for closure; some want justice. And someone is determined to use Bronte in a bid to gain revenge…
Thank You For the Music
Are things looking up for Abby Mortimer? After the death of her father it seems as though her long-term boyfriend, Edward, is about to propose – but their romantic walk on the beach doesn’t end as Abby expects when Edward breaks the news that he’s found someone else.
Heartbroken, Abby flees to Majorca to stay with her sister Liv and brother-in-law Robert, who run an upmarket hotel. Liv and Robert are looking for a singer for their piano bar and Abby, who’s a talented member of the local dramatic society, steps in to fill the gap – and finds herself immediately attracted to Rafa, the hotel’s pianist.
But what looks like a new-found happiness becomes complicated when Edward returns to apologise and win Abby back. And she’s aroused the bitter opposition of waitress wannabe Ellie, who’s trying to catch the eye of musical impresario Marcus Paterson, a guest at the hotel and always on the lookout for a new act. Torn between the contrite Edward and the flighty Rafa, between a steady life in Scotland or a career with her beloved music, Abby has difficult choices to make…especially when she learns that Edward has a secret...
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As if having Tim on the scene wasn’t bad enough, he's there with his new partner, Holly. But when in the course of his research he comes upon something extremely nasty along the cliffs of north Majorca, he’s forced to turn to Megan for help.
Looking For Charlotte
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Flora embarks on a quest to find Charlotte’s body to give the child’s mother closure, believing that by doing so she can somehow atone for her own failings as a mother.
As she hunts in winter through the remote moors of the Scottish Highlands, her obsession comes to threaten everything that’s important to her — her job, her friendship with her colleague Philip Metcalfe and her relationships with her three grown up children.
The Lake Garda Trilogy
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Going Back
Feisty, redheaded, and fabulously rich student, Leona Castellano, is set upon returning to her Italian roots to put an old feud to bed. Her grandfather is dead, but his former enemy, Faustino Manfredi, seems determined the hostility should not die with him and turns his fury upon Leona.
When she becomes close to Faustino’s grandson, Nico, their romance strengthens Faustino’s vendetta and attracts the opposition of Leona’s parents, bringing Leona and Nico face to face with a terrible secret.
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At 21, Giorgia Manfredi is a wealthy Cinderella in a golden cage. Trapped in her family's business — a luxury hotel on Italy's Lake Garda — she yearns for a normal life. When jogger Danny Davies rescues her from a mugging, Giorgia finds that love comes at a price, bringing with it hostility, deceit — and conflict. Can she forgive those she loves and find happiness with the man who’s stolen her heart?
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