‘You’ll pass by their village, though, won’t you? You should just pop in for a cup of tea.’
He didn’t say anything, but she could see the tanned hands whiten as he gripped the steering wheel. She tried again, despite the inner voice telling her to back off, that it was none of her business. ‘They must know the areas you’re looking into. It might be interesting to hear their thoughts. Seems silly not to canvas local opinion, even if you don’t take them into account.’
He was silent again. Lawrie sneaked a quick glance over, expecting to see anger, irritation in his expression. But he wasn’t showing any emotion at all. She hated it—the way he could close himself off at will.
‘I just think it’s worth one more chance,’ she said hesitantly. Why did she feel compelled to keep going with this? Because maybe this was one relationship she could fix for him? ‘If they understood why you work the way you do—understood that you love Coombe End, that your changes are an evolution of their work, not a betrayal—maybe things would be better.’
He finally answered, his face forbidding. ‘What makes you think I want things to be better?’
Lawrie opened her mouth, then shut it again. How could she tell him that where his parents were concerned she understood him better than he understood himself? That she knew how much he was shaped by his parents’ indifference, how much he craved their respect?
‘You’re going to be in the area,’ she said at last. ‘Is popping in to see your parents such a big deal?’
He didn’t answer and they continued the drive in silence. Lawrie stared unseeingly out at the trees and valleys as they flashed past, relieved when Jonas finally turned into the airport car park and pulled up at the dropping-off point.
‘That’s great—thank you.’
He didn’t answer. Instead he got out of the car and walked round to the boot, retrieved her bag and laptop case as she smoothed her dress over her thighs and pushed herself out of the low seat.
It was hard to be dignified, getting out of a sports car.
‘What time is your connection?’
She stared at him, wrenching her mind away from her thoughts to her surroundings. Back to her plans, her flight, her interview, her future. ‘Oh, two hours after I get to Heathrow—which is plenty of time for Security, I hope.’
‘Should be. Let me know if there are any changes with your flight back, otherwise I’ll see you here.’
He was going to pick her up? Her heart lurched stupidly. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I know.’
‘Okay, then.’ She picked up her bags and smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Jonas.’
‘Good luck. They’d be mad not to offer you the job.’
‘That’s the hope.’ She stepped forward and gave him a brief, light kiss, inhaling the fresh, seaside aroma of him as she did so, feeling an inexplicable tightening in her chest. ‘Bye.’
He stood statue-still, not reacting to the kiss. ‘Bye.’
She paused for a split second but she had no idea what she was waiting for—why she had a sudden leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the bags and, with a last smile in Jonas’s direction, turned and walked away towards the sliding glass doors.
‘Lawrie?’
She stopped, turned, unexpected and unwanted hope flaring up inside her.
‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go and visit my parents if you email your mother.’
The familiar panic welled up. ‘I don’t have her email address.’
‘I can forward it to you.’
‘Oh.’ She searched for another excuse.
‘Scared?’ His voice was low, understanding, comforting.
‘A little.’ Not that she wanted to admit to fear—not to him. ‘I don’t know, Jonas. I feel safer with her not in my life.’
‘I know.’ His mouth twisted. ‘It’s just one step. It doesn’t have to be more.’
Just one email. It sounded like such a small gesture and yet it felt so huge.
‘One step,’ she echoed. ‘Okay.’
‘Good. I’ll see you here in four days.’
And he was gone.
* * *
Five hours later Lawrie was ensconced in a comfortable reclining seat, her laptop already plugged in on the table in front of her, her privacy screen blocking out the rest of the world.
Wriggling down into her seat, Lawrie squared her shoulders against the plump supporting cushions. She loved business class! The firm’s willingness to pay for it boded well.
Ostensibly her ultra-comfortable journey should ensure she arrived in New York both well rested and prepared, but although her research on the firm was open on the laptop she had barely glanced at it.
Instead she had spent an hour composing an email to her mother. Lawrie reread the few short lines again and sighed. For goodness’ sake, how hard could it be? She was aiming for polite, possibly even slightly conciliatory, but she had to admit the tone was off. The words sounded snooty, accusatory, hurt.
Exasperated, she deleted the lot and typed a few stiff sentences as if she were addressing a stranger.
She supposed she was. Would she even recognise her mother if she sat next to her? Her early teens were so long ago. Had it hurt her mother, leaving her only daughter in Trengarth? Never seeing her again?
Did she ever wonder if she had done the right thing? Regret her past?
She wondered how Jonas was doing with his parents—if his efforts were any more successful than her own.
She shook herself irritably. For goodness’ sake! She was supposed to be preparing for her interview. This was it—her big chance.
So why did she feel so empty?
Lawrie slid a little further into the plush seat and looked out of the small window at the wispy white clouds drifting lazily past. What was wrong with her? Surely she hadn’t let a blue eyed surfer derail her the way he had done twelve years ago?
Hot shame flushed through her body. She couldn’t—wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of her past. Because let’s face it, she thought, ambitious little Lawrie Bennett wanted many things. She had planned her whole life through, and getting married the year she left school, before she’d received her A-level results, going to university as an eighteen-year-old bride had not been part of that plan.
Yet she had still said yes.
Lawrie pulled a piece of hair down and twizzled it around her finger. That moment—the utter joy that had suffused her whole being the second he’d asked her. Had she felt like that since? Not when she’d graduated with a first, not when she’d got hired at a top City firm.
And certainly not when Hugo had proposed.
She shook herself irritably, tucking the strand of hair back into her ponytail. Joy? ‘For goodness’ sake, grow up,’ she muttered aloud. She was in business class, flying to be interviewed for the job of her dreams, and—what? It wasn’t enough?
It was everything.
She had to remember that. Everything.
* * *
Jonas pulled over and typed the address into his phone, but he knew long before the icon loaded that he was in the right place. Looking around the tree-lined lane, he saw a row of identikit 1930s detached houses, all painted a uniform white, every garden perfectly manicured, every drive