The Vow (33 page)

By late afternoon Lucy’s head had cleared and her decision was made. She knew exactly what she was going to do, she had no doubts anymore, and she knew it had to be done now.

As the cab she had called to take her into the centre of London pulled out of the drive a dark coloured saloon fell in behind.

Yates’s man lost the taxi in the heavy traffic around Hyde Park, but he was confident he knew where it was heading. He took a short cut which brought him past the front of the hotel just in time to see Lucy, amidst a group of other arrivals, disappear inside. She was carrying a small suitcase. He dialled his boss’s number.

‘
Looks like our little bird is flying the coop.’

~

Leaving the meeting to take the call on his mobile Marcus stood in the fourth floor reception area with its view out across the city. Like a silver ribbon, the path of the river Garonne stretched out in front of him. The sun played on the roof tiles of buildings famous for their bricks, pale pink by morning and turning to deep purple at dusk. La Ville Rose; a lovely place that for various reasons was rapidly losing its charm for him.

He listened to what his caller had to say without comment; it was hardly a surprise. This had gone far enough.

‘Call your man off.’

He snapped the phone closed and strode back into the boardroom.

~

She was sitting curled up on the sofa flicking idly through a magazine. The lights were turned down low and soft music played. Silk was sprawled out in front of the fire which Lucy had lit more for its cosy glow than the heat. A tranquil setting, but she was restless. It had gone midnight, where was he?

She heard him let himself in through the front door, but did not go to greet him. The knots in her stomach tightened.

As he came into the room she looked up and trying to sound relaxed asked,
‘Hi, Marcus. Good trip?’

He thought how tired and drawn she looked. Like a woman with a lot on her mind. He too strove for a casual note.

‘Fine. I didn’t expect you to still be up, it’s very late.’ He hadn’t actually expected her to be there at all.

‘
I know. I need to talk to you.’

So, this was how it was going to end. Looking at her sitting there wearing her striped pyjamas and ridiculous Minnie Mouse slippers sadness swept over him. He was going to miss her. He rued the day he let her into his life; he should have known better. At least she’d had the guts to stay and tell him to his face.

‘Drink?’ he asked crossing to the sideboard.

‘
Err, no thanks.’

Marcus poured himself a large whiskey and still standing he asked heavily,
‘So, what do you want to talk about Lucy?’

She managed a small smile.

‘I think you’d better sit down, Marcus.’

Ignoring the space next to her on the sofa he took the armchair opposite and waited in resigned silence. Lucy had rehearsed over and over again how she would tell him, but in her excitement the words just came tumbling out.

‘I know it’s very early days yet, but there are tests you can take after only two or three weeks. I’ve done three of them! And I feel sick all the time.’

He looked at her blankly, trying to make sense of her words. Bouncing up and down in her seat she almost shouted,
‘I think I must be pregnant, Marcus!’

He said nothing, he didn’t seem able to take it in.

‘Aren’t you pleased?’ she asked, crestfallen.

‘
Lucy, you have no idea how delighted I am at this news,’ he replied faintly.

‘
Isn’t it exciting? Just think, a baby, our baby, next June. Oh Marcus, I’m so happy!’

~

It had been easy for Lucy to tell Laurent that he would be returning to France alone. Easy because she knew the life he was offering was not what she wanted. Always watching for the next time his attention wandered, waiting for him to let her down which she knew in her heart he would surely do, eventually. Easy because she was having Marcus’s baby. But she had made her decision before she found that out. It had finally dawned on her that had she wanted to go with Laurent she would have known instantly, with no hesitation. All those hours of agonising would have not have been necessary. Easy because she now knew she was no longer in love with him. She was simply in love with being in love with him. And it was time to let go.

The elderly lady who she’d seen struggling out of the taxi which pulled up behind hers, and whose case she had offered to carry, had thanked her for her kindness and asked,
‘Are you staying here too?’

‘
No,’ she had replied. ‘I’m just here for a last goodbye.’

~

As he walked through the front door Ron Baxter heard his wife call out, ‘I’m in here, love.’

Dropping his keys on the hall table, he made his way to the kitchen where Susan stood at the sink peeling potatoes. Coming up behind her he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

‘How have you felt today?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Any better?’

‘
No, a bit worse if anything. Will you give the doctor a call in the morning and see if you can get me an appointment this side of Christmas?’

‘
I’ll do it first thing,’ Susan assured him. ‘Now you go in the lounge and put your feet up. Tea won’t be long, it’s your favourite, steak, egg and chips.’

They spent a quiet evening watching the television, moaning at how there was never anything decent on anymore, it was all repeats. Susan told Ron how Julie, their only daughter who was pregnant with their first grandchild, had popped in that afternoon. She was as big as a house, but a picture of health and so excited with only a few weeks to go now. They happily discussed the shopping trip they had planned for the weekend when they would buy the outrageously expensive buggy Julie had set her heart on.

‘We’ll keep it here for now of course,’ Susan said. ‘It’s bad to luck to have it in the house before the baby arrives.’

Ron smiled indulgently at his wife, he wasn’t one for old superstitions but he was happy to play along, and like her he was looking forward to a new addition to the family.

They had a cup of tea as they watched the late news and then made their way to bed. Before he brushed his teeth Ron munched on a handful of the heartburn tablets Susan kept in the bathroom cabinet, not that they seemed to do much good. Sleeping fitfully he rose soon after dawn feeling groggy, and with the dull ache still in his chest. He left the house, as always, on the stroke of seven. Susan slept on peacefully.

Handing him a wad of delivery notes Jeff, the transport manager, commented,
‘You look a bit rough, mate. Sure you’re alright?’

‘
Yeah,’ grunted Ron. ‘It’s just a bit of indigestion.’

He manoeuvred the articulated lorry out through the depot gates, and turned towards the M25.

~

Marcus sat in the back of the Mercedes ostensibly looking over his notes for the meeting at TalkTime, but his mind was elsewhere. He had left Lucy throwing up in the bathroom. It was all she seemed to do at the moment and he was worried about her. Her pregnancy had been confirmed by the Hayden Clinic and Dr Walsh had assured him all was well, but he hated to see her looking, and obviously feeling, so ill. Lucy herself was unconcerned. Amelia told her she had been just the same; horribly sick for the first three months and then as right as rain. It was, Lucy announced, a small price to pay. She seemed so happy and content. If she had any regrets concerning Laurent Casteran she was doing an excellent job of hiding them.

Of course he would never know for sure why she had stayed. Was it the pregnancy alone that had kept her? Was the baby she was so pleased to be carrying enough, or would she eventually feel trapped, resentful that she had been unable to follow her heart? The news from Yates that Casteran had announced his engagement to Innes Monferran-Sentenac was welcome, but he knew it held no guarantee. The future held no guarantee. In a week’s time he would marry Lucy, he would try to make her happy, he would try to keep her. It was all he could do.

‘
We’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Marcus.’

Saule’s voice brought his attention back to the more immediate future and he turned again to his notes.

~

Ron was feeling extremely unwell. Pain was radiating through his left shoulder and down his arm, he was sweating profusely, and he knew he had to get off the motorway. Slowing down he hugged the hard shoulder until the next exit came into sight. But it was too late. As he turned onto the slip road the pain became excruciating, like a crushing weight on his chest. And then darkness. Slumped forward on the steering wheel his body kept the vehicle on course, but heading downhill it started to pick up speed.

The driver of the black Mercedes already on the roundabout was unaware that the forty-four ton truck approaching from the motorway was out of control, its own driver now dead at the wheel. His passenger, sitting in the rear nearside seat, became aware of the danger a split second before the collision and dived across the car.

~

Marcus could not move his legs, nor could he feel them. There was no pain, but he was so cold. He heard Saule’s voice, but it seemed a long way off.

‘
Just hang on, Marcus, they’re going to cut you out. You’ll be okay, just hang on!’

The force of the impact had spun the big car around and off down the road as if it were a toy. It was the back half which had sustained the damage, crumpled almost beyond recognition with the roof caved in and the boot lid torn off. The crash barriers and rising ground of the centre island had finally halted the lorry’s progress. It sat like a huge beached whale, tilted dangerously to one side, its wheels still spinning. A small hatchback which had come on to the roundabout just after
the Mercedes, and failed to brake in time, was wedged underneath it.

After the screech of brakes, the sickening sound of metal piercing metal and the ear-shattering noise of exploding glass, there came a deathly hush. Then a woman started to scream.

Pushing aside the inflated air-bag, Saule had quickly freed himself and, after dialling the emergency services, had began to tear desperately at the tangled metal with his bare hands in an attempt to reach Marcus.

~

How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? He had no idea how long he had lain there, completely trapped, with what had been the roof of the car only centimetres from his head. Time had ceased to exist. He was vaguely aware of the high-pitched whine of sirens, voices shouting instructions and the whirring of heavy machinery but it all seemed unreal. He felt something running down his face and when he ran his tongue over his lips, he tasted blood.

Closing his eyes in an attempt to blot out his surroundings he saw instead the image of Lucy’s smiling face. Sweet Lucy. Why had he never taken a chance, just once, and told her how he felt? A risk-taker all his life he knew his courage had failed him when he fell in love for the first time. Now it was too late. He felt so tired, so immensely weary, he just wanted to rest. The image in his head changed to that of
Helena, she smiled and held out her hand, beckoning to him.

‘
Not long now.’ Saule’s voice was at first calm and then with rising panic, ‘Marcus! For Christ’s sake just stay with us!’

There was no reply.

~

‘
Only a week to go, are you getting excited?’ asked Joyce as she emptied the dishwasher.

‘
I’m just hoping I can get through it without throwing up on anyone!’ laughed Lucy from her seat on the easy chair by the Aga.

‘
Oh, you’ll be alright. At least it’s in the afternoon, you’re usually much better by then. Are you pleased with your outfit?’

‘
I am rather. Ellen helped me choose it and I think it hits just the right note. I hope I can still get in it by next week, my waist seems to be disappearing at an alarming speed.’

‘
I’m sure you’ll look lovely,’ Joyce assured her. ‘Is the Prime Minister really coming?’

‘
Apparently so. And the Foreign Minister. With their wives of course’.

What had started as a low-key occasion had gathered momentum in line with
the bride and groom’s increasing enthusiasm.

‘
Goodness!’ said an awed Joyce. ‘Well, I’ve bought a very nice new frock and had my Eric’s best suit – his only suit actually – dry-cleaned and we’re really looking forward to it.’

‘
So am I,’ responded Lucy. And she meant it.

Silk suddenly appeared from nowhere in that spooky way of his and amazed them both by jumping, for the very first time, onto Lucy’s lap. He pushed against her with his head and she ran her hand over his soft fur. With one long thin front leg he reached up to stroke her face with his paw, not craving affection but as if to give comfort. As her arms closed around him he clung onto her tightly, as if he would never let go.