Chapter Twelve

Keira’s stomach did a backflip as she changed gear too late to avoid a hedge-hop over the speed bump on the estate. She cursed herself for letting it take her by surprise. Surely by now she ought to be familiar with every pothole, curve and nuance of the road to Carew Lodge?

Then again she didn’t have her mind on the road tonight. All week, she’d had a horrible creeping sense that tonight might be the last time she saw Tom. In fact, the scenario that might be played out had occupied her mind almost 24/7. Yes, even during lessons when she should have given all her attention to her students. But what could you do? It was way too late for regrets now.

Climbing out of the car, she flicked the auto-lock, then made her way into the porch. Gravel crunched under her feet, and her breath misted in the night air as she reached the house. She didn’t bother to knock. Flipping over a stone in the porch, she found the spare key and was already closing the door as Tom entered the hall.

His greeting was unusually curt and there was no kiss. “You didn’t answer your mobile,” he said, helping her out of her coat.

“I left you a message. I’ve had tons of marking, reports, Christmas, Diwali celebrations.”

“Of course,” he said gruffly. “I should have realised.”

The truth was, she had just needed time on her own, which was ironic when time was the last thing they had. Knowing that the moment would come all too soon for them to say good-bye, she almost wanted to be put out of her misery now.

Almost.

As Tom hung her coat on the rack and led the way to the drawing room. Keira tried to keep her tone light and uncontentious. “Don’t look so fed up, Tom. I simply couldn’t make it until tonight, and besides, it was Mum’s birthday yesterday. We went out to Bertorelli’s and had the spaghetti.”

“Was it up to the same standard?”

“Not quite, but we enjoyed it.”

He watched her closely as she sat on the chaise longue and tucked her legs under her to make room for him. Choosing not to fill the space, he flopped back in an armchair, watching her through slightly narrowed eyes. Maybe she was right to be worried; he was behaving strangely. Then again, what was normal for him? She may know every inch of his body, but as for the man himself, he was still a mystery to her in so many ways.

“Have you told your mother about us?” he asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t think she approves of what we’re doing. Of me and my dishonourable intentions, I mean.”

She giggled with nerves but knew it sounded like amusement.

“For goodness’ sake, I’m not a helpless virgin and you’re not an evil seducer. I knew—know—exactly what I’m doing, and you’d be surprised. My mum is a modern woman. She knows two adults can have sex together without it being some big lurve thing.”

Taking in the confident, laughing young woman opposite, Tom felt as if the ground under him had somehow suddenly tilted. “Some big lurve thing…” he echoed slowly. “Hmm, I bet she thinks I’m Mr. Wonderful. What else have you told her?”

“The truth. What else is there to tell?”

The surprise in Keira’s voice made him feel strangely depressed and confused.

“I’ve made it clear that this is just fun. That we both know and have always known the score, and it can’t be anything else. It’s just been a great adventure in a big life, and then we’ll shake hands and say good-bye. You’ll move on, and so will I.”

Tom couldn’t think of a single word in reply. He got up and walked to the fireplace, where his appointment letter still rested accusingly behind the ormolu clock. A sick dread threatened to overwhelm him. He knew he had no right to expect Keira to feel anything for him beyond desire, or affection maybe, but hearing her dismiss their relationship felt like salt in a wound.

Worse, it was a wound he didn’t even know he’d sustained.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “You look pale.”

Seeing her curled up on his sofa like she belonged there, he felt a wrench of yearning and need that threatened to overpower him. Her skin seemed luminous and her eyes bluer than the midday sky above the village in Papua where he’d worked. Right now, that village felt like it was at the other end of the universe, and he wanted it to stay there.

“Absolutely fine,” he said, holding out his hands. “Come here.”

Later, after dinner, as she led him up the stairs and into his bedroom, he forced himself to face the question that had been hovering at the edge of his conscience for so long now. What had he become? Taking solace from the woman he’d treated as no more than a…a…he fought for the word…a mistress. Like some lord-of-the-bloody-manor claiming his droits de seigneur.

What had he done to deserve this beautiful, fresh woman? No matter how much he tried to deny it, he now felt far more than he ever had a right to do. As they slid together under the sheets, he told himself again that if she felt so little in return, wasn’t it his own fault?

Even though he knew it was hopeless, Tom carried on trying to pound Sarah’s heart back into life with his fist and force breath into her lungs with his mouth. He stopped for a second, thinking he’d heard or felt something flutter and stir. He cried out in frustration, realizing it was only his heart pounding, his breathing that he heard in that quiet, still space. Finally, when he’d checked one last time that she had no vital signs of any kind, he’d had to close her eyes and give up.

Keira felt as if a spectre had crept into their bedroom and injected ice into her veins. She dared not move a muscle, hardly even dared to breathe as she lay next to Tom. Moonlight slanted in through the sash window, throwing distorted shadows that crept across the floor and onto the bed.

Tom, by contrast, was sweating, shaking and mumbling the same sound over and over again, a mix of a word and a cry of anguish. Keira strained her ears but found it impossible to make out what he was saying.

All she knew was that he was in great pain.

As he flung out an arm, her knees shot up to her chest, and she hugged them to her. If she hadn’t already been perched on the farthest part of the bed, he might have accidentally hit her. She curled into a ball, trying to appear as small and insignificant as she could, scared almost to breathe.

Should she call out to him or reach out her hand to touch and comfort him? Should she even try to wake him? Would it make things worse, frighten him? Inch by inch, she uncurled and lifted back the cover as he lay lost in a world she couldn’t comprehend and calling out one name over and over again.

“Tom…” Her hand inched towards his tightly clenched fingers.

“Tom…” She called as loudly as she dared, and his eyes remained screwed shut as her fingertips fluttered on his arm, which was slick with perspiration. “Wake up, please,” she murmured, still unsure if she was doing the right thing and afraid he might lash out at her without meaning to.

As she stroked his arm with trembling fingers, he began to relax. She sighed with relief as she saw his fists unclench. He lay for a moment, suddenly as still as he’d been agitated, then he turned his head to one side, looked right at her and said one word, quietly but with perfect clarity.

“Sarah.”

It seemed like an age but could only have been minutes later that Tom swung his feet out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, head between his hands. Bands of cold moonlight and shadow patterned his back and shoulders. Keira felt the hard ridge of his spine under the pads of her fingers as she stroked his back. Her heart went out to him, this proud and private man, knowing he would be tormented with shame that she had witnessed his nightmare.

His voice came to her, muffled by protective hands. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Tom, it’s fine. Please, don’t worry.”

He dragged his palms from forehead to chin. “You must think I’m a complete idiot.”

“It’s okay. You just had a nightmare.”

She massaged the rigid flesh between his shoulder blades, feeling it like iron under her hands. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Shaking off her hand, he twisted round. His eyes were full of fire and anger. “No. You don’t want to hear,” he said savagely, then groaned. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Keira. This isn’t your fault. You should never have had to be part of it.”

“Whatever it is, I am part of it, and I want to help you. Haven’t we grown close enough for that, at least? To trust each other?”

Trust? Tom felt doubly ashamed now. Not just because Keira had witnessed one of his dreams, but also because of his overreaction. He should have laughed it off, told her it was a one-off. Now she knew it meant more than that. As for trust, if there was anyone he wanted to share this terrible burden with, it ought to be her. She was loyal, sympathetic and innocent of what kind of man he truly was, and that, he resolved, was why she would be the last person on earth who would hear the truth.

“Why don’t you get back under the covers with me? It’s freezing out there.”

He almost laughed at her practicality, speaking to him like she was one of her Year Five class. He had to batten down the urge to lie in her arms and let the whole damn story flow from him until he was empty. How easy it would be, what a relief, what a terrible mistake. She would never look at him the same again once she heard the truth, and even though he was leaving, he couldn’t bear for her last memory of him to be one of a man who had let down and betrayed his dearest friends.

“Please, Tom, if you’re not going to get back in here for your own sake, at least do it for me.” She smiled at him, and his guts cramped painfully. “It’s bloody freezing out there.”

Hesitating for a moment, the sheen of sweat on his body cooling in the night air, Tom shivered. He slipped back into bed, the warmth of her body searing his skin, and swaddled the duvet around them both, reveling in its comforting warmth. If only, he thought, he could shut out the memories of that long night in the rainforest as easily.

Keira wriggled next to him, obviously relieved that he’d come back to bed. “Hmmm…that’s better,” she said.

Tom suppressed a sigh as he felt the scrape of her small feet against his shins and her palms flat against his chest. For a while, they lay together simply savouring the sensation of skin on skin, exchanging mutual warmth, most of it glowing within her, but she wasn’t going to give up, he knew that.

He felt her question resonate against his chest. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

“If I tell you, you’ll never think of me in the same way again.”

“That could never happen. Whatever you have to say to me, it can’t be that bad.”

He felt his throat constrict. “It can and it is.”

He thought of throwing back the duvet again and walking off, out of the room, out of the Lodge, running away over the fields and never coming back. Tom rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling above the bed. A plaster cherub smiled down at him from the ornate ceiling rose, mocking him in the half-light.

“I won’t let you go until you do tell me. I’ll stay here until Christmas and tie you to the bed. If you can’t tell me what’s hurting you so much, who will you ever tell?” Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked down into his eyes and delivered the killer blow. “After all, once you’ve confessed, you’ll never have to face me again.”

The seconds ticked by as she waited above him, eyes expectant and challenging, then he opened his mouth and said, as calmly as if he’d just agreed to pop out to the supermarket:

“I betrayed one friend and let the other one die.”