Jason watched silently as Tati chucked a suitcase onto the bed and began throwing clothes inside it, willy-nilly. Soon she’d be grabbing her passport from the bureau drawer and running out of the door again. He couldn’t let her leave for New York without saying anything. By the time she got back, whatever small shreds of courage he had would have deserted him for sure.
‘Tatiana, I … there’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Can it wait?’ Tati asked absently, flinging a pashmina shawl and a pair of red Louboutin pumps into the case before zipping it up. ‘I’m super-duper late.’
‘Not really.’
For the first time since she walked in, Tati noticed how ashen Jason was looking. It was a look she remembered well from before they married, back when Jason had been his father’s emotional punch-bag. Each time Brett put Jason down, or imposed his will, ignoring the boy’s feelings, Jason had worn the same bloodless, terrified expression.
Tati sat down on the bed. ‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’
Jason opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He’d gone over this speech in his head hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. But now that the moment had finally arrived to deliver it, the words stuck in his throat. ‘I-I-I …’ he stammered. ‘You see, the thing is …’
Tatiana’s mobile rang. The noise was loud and insistent, as if an angry bee had flown into the room. She looked at the screen. It was Jenna Finch, her PA. Jenna knew better than to bother Tatiana if it wasn’t important.
‘Sorry, darling.’ She made an apologetic face at Jason. ‘I have to take this. I’ll be quick, I promise. Standing up, she walked back to the window, cradling the phone in her hands. ‘Jenna. What’s up?’
By the time she got off the phone, Jason’s mouth had turned to sawdust. Rivers of sweat poured down his back and chest.
‘Sorry,’ Tati smiled, swinging her suitcase down off the bed. ‘You wanted to say something?’
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s not that important.’
He hated himself but he couldn’t do it, not rushed and frantic like this. The moment had passed.
Tati kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Today’s just been a crazy day, that’s all. When I get back we’ll spend more time together.’
‘Sure.’
‘We can talk properly then.’
‘OK.’
He watched as she swept out, the lingering aroma of Chanel Cristalle the only sign that she’d been there at all, and listened as the front door slammed shut.
When she’s back, he vowed. I’ll tell her when she’s back.
But deep down, not even he believed it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lying back on a blue and white striped sun-lounger at the members only Maidstone Club in East Hampton, Angela Cranley enjoyed the warm feeling of the sun on her legs. Truth be told, she hadn’t really wanted to come on this trip. But Brett had insisted, and for once Angela was thankful that he’d bullied her into it.
Angela and Brett had reconciled for the umpteenth time in the New Year. There were a few awkward weeks when he first moved back to Furlings, but since then things had been much better between them. So much so that Logan had moved back once her A-level exams were over, along with the lovely Tom. They’d both taken summer jobs at a fruit farm near Fittlescombe to save up for their year-off travelling together. Angela had expected Brett to throw his toys out of the pram at the mere suggestion of Logan’s boyfriend staying under their roof, but he’d surprised her. The time spent away from his family seemed to have mellowed him. Brett appeared to be as pleased as Angela that Furlings once more felt like a family home, and he and Tom got on well from the beginning. In return, Angela had respected Brett’s wishes and agreed not to invite Tatiana to the house again. She would see Jason in London, or at his and Tati’s new country house in nearby Brockhurst, a run-down Elizabethan manor that Jason was about to start renovating. It was a compromise that suited everyone.
The one lingering problem that remained was the amount of time Brett spent travelling for work. In particular he seemed to be spending more and more time in the States, with his business trips often extending for two weeks or more. After his last jaunt, he’d floated the idea of buying a home there, a place where he and Angela could both stay when he travelled.
‘I couldn’t live in Manhattan,’ Angela told him. ‘All those skyscrapers. I feel claustrophobic just thinking about it.’