Finally he paused, glanced at his watch and adopted a summing-up tone. ‘The species I’ve talked about tonight are all mentioned in my book. And they’ve got something else in common that’s very unusual under the sea – they practise monogamy.’ Another embarrassed smile. ‘Monogamy’s an interesting concept for people today, isn’t it? In the past, it was synonymous with “a mate for life” – which is becoming increasingly rare in our society, with its liberated attitudes to sex and marriage and, of course, increased life expectancy. And yet …’ He hesitated, as though searching for the right words, then gazed into the distance and said, ‘I don’t know about you, but monogamy’s something that I’m used to defining in purely physical terms, probably because I’m a biologist. One sexual partner at a time, that sort of thing.’ Another pause, while he studied the floor. ‘Recently, though, I’ve begun to realise that it can be much, much more. And so, for what it’s worth, my personal message to you –’ a fleeting look around the room, before he fixed his gaze on something in the distance again – ‘is that, as humans, we must never give up hope. “A mate for life” needn’t be a limiting biological fact, an impossible dream because of how we’ve behaved in the past. Why not redefine it as “a mate for the rest of your life” and keep the dream alive? That’s what I’m telling myself tonight – it’s never too late to have a second chance to live my dream.’
The blood drained from Anna’s face. She stared at him and – along with every other woman in the room, it seemed – held her breath for his next words. When he spoke, however, it was just to mutter, ‘Thank you, thank you for listening.’ The audience breathed a collective ‘aahh’ – adoration, Anna wondered, or disappointment at the lack of any further confessions? Then the applause started. It didn’t last long, because one or two women broke ranks and soon there was a disorderly queue clamouring for him to sign books.
Anna’s heart was pounding as she took her place at the end of the line and responded automatically to Jenny’s chatter. Never mind if half the audience were within hearing distance – she would ask Rick what his dream was, and hope for the answer she wanted.
When it came to the crunch, Rick couldn’t bring himself to say what he’d planned – not in front of all these people. It was for her ears only, just as he needed to keep private the elation or despair that would follow.
And now the book signing was taking ages, because everyone wanted to chat. That was the trouble with revealing your personal thoughts – people felt they had to reciprocate. So he had potentially thirty life histories to contend with, when there was only one that interested him. But he would be patient and wait …
Eventually it was the turn of her redheaded friend. She thrust a book at him, pushed a pair of glasses on to her nose and said eagerly, ‘Wonderful talk, you had us eating out of the palm of your hand, especially at the end. Mind, you could have read extracts from the phone book and it would probably have had the same effect!’ He found himself laughing with her. ‘My name’s Jenny Smith,’ she went on. ‘I’m here with Anna – you know Anna Elliot, don’t you?’
He nodded, wondering how much Anna had told her.
Not a lot, judging by the way she got straight down to business. ‘If you can sign it “To Jenny and Tom”, that’ll be great.’ A deep sigh. ‘I wish I could believe in second chances, you know. But Tom – that’s my husband – was paralysed in a car accident five years ago and, well, it’s hard to keep hoping that he’ll walk again.’ She blinked rapidly, took the book with a trembling smile and moved away.
Great. Here he was, trotting out platitudes about hope and second chances – and there was Jenny, coping day after day with a person whose life had been shattered. He felt such a fraud …
There was only one person left in the queue, and it was the one person he’d been waiting for. And the way she was looking into his eyes made him want to just grab her across the table and kiss away the need for any words at all. And the longer she stood there staring at him, the more certain he was that in five minutes or so, when they were out of here, he’d be doing exactly that …
As if she could read his thoughts, she blushed, looked down and fidgeted with the book she’d bought; his book, in those small, delicate hands. ‘I wanted to ask you about your talk,’ she said at last, and she sounded strangely, wonderfully breathless. ‘It – it wasn’t at all what I expected.’
He said in a low voice, so only she could hear, ‘I remember you saying that about something quite different.’
She blushed more deeply and didn’t reply; gently, he took the book out of her hands and placed it on the table. That had the desired result and she looked up at him again; but her eyes were watchful.
‘Tell you what,’ he said, boldly, ‘how about you save the interrogation until I walk you home?’ He reached under the table for the umbrella. ‘Don’t worry about the rain, I’ve come prepared. This should keep us both dry, provided we stay close.’
She seemed to be trying not to laugh. He glanced down at the umbrella; huh, so much for his attempt at being romantic – the thing looked like a deranged crow.
‘Here.’ She took it from him, gave it a brisk shake and secured the flapping wings with a little belt that he hadn’t even noticed. As she handed it back, he caught her fingers in his and felt desire spiral through him.
He took a deep breath and blanked out everyone else. ‘Anna, I–’
But then a man’s voice cut in with ‘Sorry I’m late, darling!’ A self-satisfied voice, horribly familiar, just as intrusive as it had been at Lyme; and that same smug face, leaning in close. ‘Had to show Cleo how to work the TV in her room again. Honestly, at times she’s as thick as two short planks.’
Anna started, as if waking from a trance. The umbrella, suddenly redundant, clattered on to the table. And Rick knew that he had more chance of walking on the moon than walking her home.
The man tugged at her arm. ‘We have to find Jenny. Tom’s waiting in the car outside, and our table’s booked for eight, remember?’ He picked up the copy of Sex in the Sea. ‘Signed and paid for? Right, let’s go!’
‘No, William, wait.’ She wrenched the book from him and held it out to Rick. ‘Please sign my book. Write whatever you were going to say. Please, Rick.’
The expression in her eyes was so soft and pleading that he almost believed her; but of course he was a fool – a naïve fool who talked about dreams and second chances as if they really existed! He opened the book at the title page, gripped the pen between index finger and thumb and signed two words with an aggressive flourish – ‘Rick Wentworth’. Nothing more, nothing less.
He didn’t wait for the ink to dry, just closed the book with a snap. Then he snatched up his umbrella and jacket and marched off to find his coat.
Chapter Forty-Four
‘Here’s your cup of tea, Jen.’
‘Thanks.’ Jenny sat up in bed and gave Tom a smile that rapidly became a grimace. ‘Ouch, my head’s thumping! How’s yours?’
‘Fine. But then I wasn’t knocking back the champagne like you and Anna.’
‘Well, we don’t often get the chance, do we?’ She took a sip of tea. ‘God knows how much that meal cost last night – I hope our host thought we were worth it.’
This should have been the lead-in to a cosy little chat about William Elliot-Dunne, except that Tom was too preoccupied with his previous train of thought. ‘Unusual for Anna to drink like that,’ he said, anxiously. ‘Perhaps you’d better go and see if she’s OK.’
‘At least it brought her out of her shell. To begin with, she was even quieter than usual, wasn’t she?’
‘Maybe she didn’t really want us along–’
‘She did, I asked her at work yesterday.’ Jenny gave a little sigh. ‘She said she wasn’t in a hurry to encourage William. But, as he reminded her last night, they’re having tea together this afternoon. I can’t figure it out.’
‘Neither can he, judging by the look on his face when she wouldn’t invite him up to her f
lat.’ Tom frowned. ‘You’re sure she made it up those stairs?’
‘Absolutely. I counted the right number of steps, more or less, then I heard her open her door – must get round to oiling those hinges! – and shut it again.’ Jenny paused, before steering the conversation firmly in the desired direction. ‘So, be honest, what do you think of him?’
He shrugged. ‘Seems like a nice guy. Must be loaded, judging by his car and the way he was throwing money around. And he seems very keen on Anna. She could do a lot worse.’
Jenny laughed, then winced as her head pounded. ‘Spoken like a typical man. Yes, in financial terms Anna could do a lot worse. There’s just something about him … I’m not convinced he’s right for her. But don’t worry – I’m not going to say a word. For the time being, at least, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘Maybe I’d better go and see if she’s OK, like you suggested. And I want to compare notes about last night.’
‘I thought you weren’t going to say anything to her about William?’
‘I’m not, it’s Rick Wentworth I want to talk about. I tried at dinner, remember, but she wouldn’t rise to the bait. She probably thought it was a bit off to drool over another man in front of William.’
‘On the other hand, you were quite happy to drool over another man in front of me.’ Tom sounded amused rather than offended; but, just in case, Jenny reached across and kissed him.
‘We both know only too well that I’m yours for eternity, whereas Anna and William don’t know each other very well at all. Although if William has anything to do with it,’ she added wryly, ‘that won’t be the case for much longer.’
The umbrella was a constant reminder of her. Last night Rick had needed it on the long wet walk to his hotel, and he’d left it by the radiator in his room to dry. This morning, when he woke up, his stomach knotted at the very sight of it.
He remembered the way she’d laughed at it; except now he knew she’d been laughing at him, at his arrogant assumption that he’d be walking her home. He remembered how deftly she’d folded it; huh, she must have been laughing about that, too, and thinking, Can’t he even work an umbrella properly? And he remembered the thrill of her touch as she handed it back …
He pulled his laptop savagely towards him and checked his email. Nothing of interest, so he turned to his list of recently viewed websites. For whatever reason, the one that jumped out at him was James Benwick’s. He clicked on the link; same dreary old site, except that he could find no trace of ‘Move on You’. In its place was something equally grotesque, entitled ‘Lady in White’ and dedicated ‘To my brave angel Louisa’:
In the white room,
In the white bed,
She lies white-faced.
Only poetry brings
A blush to her cheek,
A gleam to her hazel eye.
Poems from my heart
For the lady in white.
‘Give me strength!’ Rick resisted the urge to hurl the laptop across the room – but only just. If Lou actually liked this trash, she must need her head examining. He gave a mirthless laugh as he realised she’d had plenty of that over the last two weeks.
His mind wandered back to Anna. James may have lost interest – and he suspected that she’d never been interested in him anyway – but what the hell was going on between her and that jerk last night? Dinner – and then what? Back to her flat, passionate kisses on the sofa – opposite the painting that he’d come to think of as theirs alone, not to be shared with anyone else? Or maybe they made straight for the bedroom, tore each other’s clothes off and–
‘Please God, no!’ Had he simply whispered the words, or shouted them out loud?
Strange how it had taken until this moment for everything to fall into place. When he’d first met her again in Charles and Mona’s kitchen, and he was free of Shelley, he should have realised it was a second chance. But he was feeling shocked and raw, and he’d always been in denial about the Anna Elliot part of his past. If only he’d had the sense to stop and think – to face his feelings about her openly and honestly – they might have had a future.
Then he’d made a major error of judgement and become embroiled far too quickly with Lou. But hardly had he extricated himself from that relationship when here was Anna with someone else in her life – a man who seemed to be part of her past, just as he was. Had he really expected her to wait patiently until he sorted himself out and decided she was the only one for him?
What a sodding mess …
And now he had to go through the motions of being alive and kicking: this morning he was meeting Sophie and Ed for coffee and this afternoon he had another signing in Bristol. Finally, there was the theatre tonight with Guy: an unexpected pleasure, thanks to Marie-Claude being held up in Paris. By a strange coincidence, the play was called Three Sisters.
No prizes for guessing who he’d be thinking about all evening.
The phone rang just as Anna was blow-drying her hair. She didn’t recognise the mobile number; all she knew was – it wasn’t Rick’s. She deliberately hadn’t stored it that time he’d rung her out of the blue, but she was sure his ended in 651.
Not that she was expecting him to contact her again, not after last night. If she really wanted to know how he felt, she’d have to make the next move …
‘Anna?’ A woman’s voice, vaguely familiar.
‘Yes?’
‘Sophie Croft here – and I mean here. Ed and I have just arrived in Bath for the weekend.’ A rich chuckle, so like her brother’s from long ago. ‘And for once it’s not raining!’
‘You could be tempting fate.’ Anna managed a little laugh. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Royal Crescent Hotel, the most gorgeous suite, all expenses paid – a present from Rick for our fifth wedding anniversary. I wish he was staying here too, but there weren’t any rooms left.’
Thank God for that, Anna thought, imagining what might happen if Rick and Walter bumped into each other at breakfast. But all she said was, ‘Very nice – and congratulations. How long are you here for?’
Sophie sighed down the phone. ‘Three whole days – which sounds a lot, but there’s so much we want to do! Including seeing you – you had to turn down that cup of tea with us in Uppercross, remember? When are you free?’
‘I’m not sure – what are your plans?’
‘Let me see … We want to try the hotel spa, of course, probably later today. Then I’d like to visit the Abbey again, and the Roman Baths. But first we’re having coffee with Rick, it’s the only time he can fit us in – that’s the trouble with having a famous brother! He couldn’t manage lunch because he’s off to Bristol for a signing, and he can’t do dinner because his publicist is taking him to the Theatre Royal.’ Another chuckle. ‘I’ll be surprised if Rick can sit still long enough to watch a play for three hours!’
The Theatre Royal, tonight? Anna shelved that thought until later; for the moment, she wanted to establish if she’d have any other opportunities to meet him.
‘Can’t he see you tomorrow, then?’ She hoped it came across as an innocent question.
‘No, he’s going up north, leaving straight after breakfast. He’s got twelve solid days of signings, then he’s coming to us for a few days before he flies back to Australia.’ Sophie added, ‘He’s opening our garden centre the weekend after next – I hope you can come.’
‘I’d love to,’ Anna said automatically; but all she could think was, ‘Two weeks, then he’ll be gone. And I might never see him again.’
‘You’ve heard about him and Lou, haven’t you?’ Sophie’s voice sharpened. ‘I know everyone thinks she dumped him, but it wasn’t really like that. He just felt he had to do the right thing and stand by her. Thank God she recovered and let him off the hook!’
‘Mmmm.’
‘It certainly seems to have taught him a lesson – d’you know, he actually told me that he should have taken my advice and worked out what went wro
ng with his previous relationship before starting a new one? Incredible.’ She paused. ‘Did you go to his talk last night?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘I thought you might,’ Sophie went on, breezily. ‘He sounds fine on the phone, but what did you think when you saw him?’
Anna struggled with a hot wave of humiliation as she recalled how the signing had ended. She’d been stunned by Rick’s reference to a far more intimate moment – I remember you saying that about something quite different … And excited by his offer to walk her home … She’d found his awkwardness with the umbrella endearing, the touch of his fingers disturbingly familiar … Then William had turned up, and Rick had become as bleak and unapproachable as before. And, although he’d not said a single word, she’d felt his anger rise between them like a barricade …
The bizarre thing was, when she’d thought it over in the middle of the night, his behaviour had given her a flicker of hope. But the time to do anything about it was running out – fast.
She decided to give Sophie a version of the truth. ‘He gave a very … interesting talk, but I couldn’t really tell how he was feeling.’ Then – deep breath – ‘I didn’t have a chance to ask him some questions. Would you mind if I joined you for coffee?’ She steeled herself for a polite refusal.
‘Of course not!’ Sophie made it sound like the best idea in the world. ‘We’re meeting in that lovely little deli on George Street at eleven o’clock. Come as soon as you like.’
Chapter Forty-Five
In the middle of the bustling café-delicatessen, Rick greeted Sophie and Ed even more warmly than usual; it seemed like years – not days – since he’d last seen them. And, for a split second, he forgot he was a minor celebrity. Then people started to stare and he made for the most secluded corner.
‘Hotel OK?’ he said, after they’d settled themselves at one of the chunky wooden tables.
Persuade Me Page 21
