Part 33 (1/2)

CHAPTER 12.

On Sunday, I awoke with David's right arm encircling me like the hoop of a barrel. As I gazed towards the window, where a splinter of light had pierced a gap in the curtains, I felt elated-and, at the same time, dismayed. For I had done precisely what I said I wouldn't do. But today David would know who I was. Terrified, now, I watched his sleeping face, listening to his gentle, regulated breathing. Then I saw his eyelids flicker, and open.

'Miranda Sweet,' he smiled. He drew me further to him, wrapping his arms around me so tightly I could hardly breathe. 'You are sweet,' he murmured as he gazed at me. 'And I think I'm in love with you. I'm not absolutely certain,' he added as he stroked my face. 'But I'm ninety-nine per cent sure I am.'

'Only ninety-nine per cent?' I said. He nodded. 'But I'm one hundred and twenty per cent sure I'm in love with you.'

'That's impossible.'

'Love doesn't obey mathematical imperatives.'

'That's true.' He dropped his hand from my face to my left breast, then his expression changed. 'That's funny,' he said quietly.

'What?'

'Your heart. It's racing. You're not anxious, are you?' Yes, I am. I'm very, very anxious.

'No...it's just the effect you have on me.'

He drew my right hand to his chest. 'Feel mine.' His pulse was slow and steady and strong. 'I feel una.s.sailable,' he said as he stretched luxuriously, then clasped his hands behind his head. 'I feel that, just for today, nothing in the world can get to me. I'll remember this day for a very long time.' You will. You will. You'll remember it forever. My heart still pounding, I slipped out of bed.

I put on my bathrobe and pushed open the cas.e.m.e.nt window. In the courtyard below, the square, topiarized yews were casting long, lozenge-shaped shadows in the morning light. Two white peac.o.c.ks strolled across the lawn; while a flock of turtledoves warmed themselves in a patch of sunlight on the neighbouring roof.

'What are you doing?' David demanded softly. 'Come back, Miranda. Come back here. I want to make love to you again.'

I let the robe fall to the floor...

Afterwards, we had a bath together, then, while he was shaving, I got dressed and took Herman out.

'It's today,' I whispered to him bleakly, as we crossed the dry moat and walked towards the lake. 'It's today.' Herman looked up at me with an expression of unmitigated solicitude. When we went back inside, David was standing by the reception desk, studying a leaflet.

'What would you like to do?' he asked as we went upstairs. 'We could, according to this, go to Goodwood, Parham House, or, and I quote, ”to the delightful coastal towns of Chichester, Worthing, and...Brighton”. Brighton,' he echoed with a wry smile, as I opened my door. 'I haven't been to Brighton for fifteen years. I never wanted to go back,' he said, as I put Herman on his blanket, 'after what happened; but actually, I think I would like to go. Now that I've met you, and knowing you have a connection with the place too, somehow I think I could cope. Let's go to Brighton this morning,' he said, as we went into the dining room for breakfast. 'I've got this inexplicable urge to see it again. Is that okay with you?'

No. No. It isn't. I gave him a weak smile. 'Yes...' I said. 'That would be fine.'

After breakfast we climbed onto the ruined battlements, and looked at the South Downs rolling away beneath us to the far horizon. Then we went upstairs to get our things. And I had just put my clothes in my bag, and was sitting on my bed waiting for David to come in-David, there's something I have to tell you-when my phone rang. It was Daisy.

'Are you okay?' I asked.

'I'm...all right.' She didn't sound it.

'What's the matter?'

'It's just that...well, I was going to go microlighting again today, but my friend's just cancelled and so, well, I can't help feeling rather...disappointed.'

'Oh dear. And when did you arrange that?'

'Last week.'

'Did he say why he had to cancel?'

'No. He just said that it wasn't convenient, after all.'

'I'm sorry, Daisy. But in any case you really ought to be spending your free time with Nigel.'

'Oh, I am,' she replied. 'He's decided not to work today, so we're going out to lunch with a few of his crowd-including that awful baggage, Mary.'

'She is rather awful. You have my sympathies. Her bite is worse than her bark.'

'That's true. Anyway, what's the hotel like?'

'Heaven. It's a ruined castle.'

'A ruined castle,' she repeated achingly. 'How romantic.' There was such profound longing in her voice. 'And have you told David yet?'

I felt my pulse quicken. 'No. I'm going to do it today. I don't want to do it here, though, and spoil the memory of this lovely place. But he wants to go to Brighton for lunch, so I'll find a quiet place there, and then I'll tell him.'

'Well... I'll be thinking of you-good luck. But don't worry, Miranda. He's obviously very attached to you-I'm sure he'll be fine.'

Suddenly, David was standing in the doorway. 'Tell me what?' he enquired, as I put the phone back in my bag. My heart looped the loop. 'How irresistible you find me?'

I nodded. 'I do. I do find you irresistible. I find you...' I suddenly rushed up to him and flung my arms round his neck. 'I find you so nice, David, and so gorgeous, and I'm so glad I found you.' And I've got this awful, awful thing I have to tell you. And it might ruin everything. I felt tears spring to my eyes.

'Hey,' he said soothingly. 'You're not crying, are you?' He looked at me. 'There's no need for tears.' Oh, there is. There is. 'Or, don't tell me, you're crying with happiness?'

'Yes,' I sniffed. 'I am.' Happiness, and also acute anxiety.

He handed me a hanky. 'Don't cry. There, Miranda. Please, don't. Now,' he added, after a moment, 'let's drive straight there, and have a walk along the sea front. Then we could find somewhere nice for lunch-maybe Beachy Head?' I nodded. 'I'll drive, shall I?' Why not just tell him now? This second. Get it over with, at last.

'David, I-'

Suddenly his mobile rang. 'Oh, hi, Mum.' He went back to his room and talked to his mother for a few minutes, then he reappeared with his bags.

'Sorry about that-we usually have a chat on Sunday mornings. She says she'd love to meet you.' She won't, she won't. Not when she knows.

As we drove through the Suss.e.x villages, down curving lanes fringed alternately with beech and then bracken, I kept trying to imagine how David would react. Brighton was only fifteen miles away, so in less than an hour I'd know. And now we had come to its fringes and were driving through Hove, along the Promenade, past the hotels. I gazed out to sea at the white sails dotting the glinting water, and at the sunbathers on the s.h.i.+ngled beach.

'You know what I want to do, don't you?' I heard David say. I looked at him. 'Before we have lunch?'

'No. What's that?'

'I'd like to show you where I used to live.' A sudden jolt ran down my spine. 'Let's see if I can find my way to the house.' We drove past the ruined West Pier, then the Palace Pier and then, at Marine Parade, he turned left. And now we were negotiating the backstreets of Brighton, with their colourful Regency villas painted in pale pink and green and blue, and we were climbing now, rising high above the city. 'Egremont Place,' he said. 'I think that's the one I want.'

'Yes, it is,' I said, before I could stop myself. I felt David's slightly curious glance pa.s.s over me.

'You're right,' he said. 'And here's the memorial arch. Gosh, I remember this.' We pa.s.sed under it and now we were in West Drive, with Queen's Park below us on our right; the shrieks of children playing on the swings rising to our ears, and the soft 'thwock' of tennis b.a.l.l.s. David drove slowly to the end, and I saw his hands tighten on the wheel as he drew to a halt opposite his old house.