Kitabı oku: «The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection», sayfa 92

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THERE. She’d done it. The dreadful words that set Mark free had flowed from her in a painful rush, the way the baby had.

And she was left with the same desolate emptiness.

It was like ripping her heart out, but now, at the lowest point in her life, Sophie knew she had no choice. She had to face up to her most difficult challenge yet.

From the moment the mean, cramping pain had begun low in her abdomen, she’d known that she was losing the baby. And she’d known that meant losing Mark. She’d had plenty of time to think about it—in the plane on the way to the hospital, and later with tears rolling down her cheeks as the hospital staff had examined her and dealt with the miscarriage.

Afterwards, she’d wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball, to give in to her grief and the tumult of her hormones, to feel desperately sorry for herself. Yet again. But the funny thing about love was that it wouldn’t let you be selfish. And, in the depths of her misery, she’d realised it was time to think about Mark for a change.

Poor Mark. She’d rushed down here and made a mess of his life. She’d distracted him from important work by insisting that he show her his lifestyle.

She’d been so thoughtless. Even their love-making—Oh, help, how could she ever forget Mark’s love-making? But even then, she’d been selfish. One minute she’d been holding him at bay, telling him that sex would complicate everything, next she was leaping into his swag.

She’d been too focused on her own problems for too long, too scared of failing yet again. But now it was time to grow up.

If she was brutally honest, she’d known from the start that Mark was a gentleman, too well-mannered to simply send her packing even though he’d probably wanted to. And Tim, Emma and her mum had all made their expectations clear to him. Everyone back in England was hoping Mark would ‘do the right thing’ and somehow save Sophie from yet another failure.

She’d failed anyhow. Life had taught her a huge and terrible lesson. She’d failed spectacularly. She’d lost the baby, the one thing that she and Mark had in common. The only thing tying him to her. And, after all the burdens she’d piled on the poor man, it was up to her to make things easier for him now.

It had to be done. Sophie knew she had no choice but to release Mark from any sense of obligation, had to be convincing for his sake.

If only he didn’t look so ill. Beneath his tan, his skin had taken on a sickly pallor. His dark-brown eyes were glazed with shock.

And, although the muscles in his throat worked overtime, he didn’t speak. He wouldn’t look at her, and simply stared at the foot of her bed.

Don’t do this to me, Mark. Don’t make it too hard.

Eventually, he said, ‘Are you saying goodbye? You want to split?’

‘Yes.’ She was proud of how definite that one awful word sounded.

‘But you’ll come home with me first?’

Sophie, be brave.

‘No, Mark. There’s no need.’

‘So—so after they let you out of here you plan to head straight back to England?’

‘Of course.’ She knew this sounded too harsh, so she added more gently, ‘As soon as I can organise a flight.’

Mark’s jaw clenched, and he shifted his point of focus to another part of her bed, but still he didn’t look at her.

‘It’s a bit of a nuisance that I’ve left so much stuff at your place,’ she said. ‘Would it be too much to ask you to box it up and send it over?’

‘I’ll go home and get it tonight,’ he said dully.

‘But it’s such a long way.’

His jaw clenched harder, and he spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I’m used to long distances.’

Sophie felt sick at the thought of Mark driving back through the dark, over those long, lonely miles. Her throat burned with welling tears, but she didn’t want to cry again. If she burst into tears, he’d never believe that she wanted to go. Besides, she’d cried too much already.

Mark said, ‘Do you really think we can do this—just part as easily as we did in London, after the wedding?’ His voice was hard and cold, as if he’d chipped each word from a block of ice

She couldn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded, and she felt as if she might fall apart completely at any moment.

Mark leaned closer, his voice bitter-quiet. ‘I can’t believe you think we can say goodbye, as if nothing important has happened between us.’

Important?

Was that what he thought? What did he mean by that, was he just talking about sex?

Mark’s hand gripped her shoulder. ‘Tell me you don’t mean it, Sophie.’ His voice was too loud, almost angry.

‘Is everything all right, Sophie?’

A woman’s stern voice startled her. Through her tears, Sophie saw the nursing sister standing behind Mark.

Sophie nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks.’ But her voice was squeaky and trembling. She groped for the ball of tissues under her pillow and dabbed at her face.

The nurse gave Mark a baleful look. ‘She’s obviously upset. I’ll have to ask you to leave.’

‘He’s not upsetting me,’ Sophie insisted.

‘Just the same, I’ll ask you step outside, sir. I need to check Sophie’s progress. This will only take a moment.’

Outside, in the corridor, Mark wondered if he was losing his mind. He was free to go, but nothing about that felt right. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so bad? Most bachelors in his position would have been relieved, wouldn’t they?

He’d been let off the hook, and he was free to pick up his life where he’d left off when the young jackaroo had announced a long-distance phone call from a woman with an English accent.

Sophie Felsham was not going to make her home at Coolabah Waters after all. And he wasn’t going to be a father. The burden of responsibility had rolled from his shoulders, and he was free to marry any girl he chose.

He should be pleased, shouldn’t he? Wasn’t this their lucky break—his lucky break?

There were unlimited Australian women who would slip into his lifestyle much more easily than Sophie could. Surely providence had intervened and had delivered them both from a life sentence?

But if that was the case why in blue blazes didn’t he feel relieved?

The raw ache in the pit of his stomach, the numbness in his heart, didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t he feel the tiniest glimmer of hope about his future?

Hands plunged in pockets, he strode to the far end of the corridor, and glared out at the car park where wind-screens flashed gold in the harsh blaze of the setting sun.

He didn’t want an Australian girl. He didn’t want anyone else.

That was the crazy truth of it. He wanted Sophie—bright, lovely, gutsy Sophie.

But fate had intervened and turned the clock back. They were just a man and woman again. There was no pregnancy. No possible son and heir. No cute baby girl. No chance that his bedroom would be decorated with rosy accents, whatever they were. No nursery…

Their lives had been stripped back to the basics. All that was left was how he and Sophie felt about each other.

And Sophie had already made her feelings crystal clear.

Turning from the window, he stared back down the long white corridor.

He couldn’t believe how much it hurt that she wanted to rush back to England. It wasn’t as if she had hated it at Coolabah. Already she’d made a terrific fist of settling into the Outback. She’d thrown everything she had into learning how to adapt, had shown the courageous spirit of the Englishwomen who’d pioneered this hard land.

And there’d been many times when he’d caught her looking at him, had seen in her eyes that she cared for him. Really cared. And she’d made love with heart-wrenching eagerness, with a depth of passion that couldn’t be faked.

Damn it, there’d been every indication that they could have been happy together here.

You’re fooling yourself, mate. If Sophie wanted to stay, she wouldn’t hesitate to say so.

She’s desperate to get back to England.

His hand balled into a fist. He wanted to smash something. But, damn it, if England was where Sophie truly wanted to be, he had no right to keep her here. He’d told her she was free to go if things didn’t work out.

And, well…things hadn’t worked out.

End of story.

She was the daughter of Sir Kenneth and Lady Eliza. She belonged in London with them, with Emma and Tim.

But how the hell could he let her go?

He couldn’t.

It was as simple as that. Yes!

He couldn’t let her go. He wasn’t convinced that Sophie really wanted to walk away from him. After everything they’d shared, it didn’t make sense. He had questions to ask. He had to know for sure.

He set off down the corridor with a quickened step and a fiercely brave heart.

The nurse was just leaving the room.

‘I’ve given Sophie a sedative to help her calm down,’ she said, casting a dubious eye over Mark. ‘I think it would be best if we leave her now. She mustn’t be upset. She needs plenty of rest.’

‘I’ll just say goodbye,’ he insisted.

But when he stepped through the doorway Sophie was lying curled on her side, with her back to him, and when he leaned over the bed she didn’t move. Her eyes were shut, her eyelids red and swollen, and her hands were folded, clutching a bunch of damp tissues beneath her chin. She looked as if she might be praying.

She looked pale and exhausted, but the message was clear: she wasn’t expecting or seeking any comfort from him.

In the car park he rang Jill.

‘What a dreadful shame, Mark. Poor Sophie. Poor you.’

‘I guess it’s just one of those things that happen,’ he said.

‘Yes, of course. It happens a lot, actually. And I’m sure Sophie will have more babies.’

Mark cleared his throat. ‘I—I guess so.’

‘Just the same, it’s a terrible disappointment for you both,’ she said. ‘And such a frightening experience for the poor girl.’

‘I’m grateful you were there to help her.’

‘Yes, so am I. Does she have enough things? I packed a small overnight bag for her.’

‘I’m coming back to collect what she needs. I don’t want to hang around in Mount Isa tonight, so I’ll grab a hamburger and coffee at a service station and I can be home by ten.’

‘You’re coming back out here tonight?’

Jill was clearly puzzled by this, but Mark finished the conversation quickly and disconnected. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about Sophie’s plans to return to London. He still couldn’t believe them himself.

He tackled the task of gathering up Sophie’s things as soon as he got back. ‘Stressful’ didn’t go halfway to describing the ordeal. He was dog-tired, but too tense to sleep, so he went to the back bedroom, dragged out her suitcase from beneath the bed and began to pack.

He went about the task with grim thoroughness, taking care to put shoes and heavy things like jeans towards the bottom. He opened the drawer where Sophie kept her underwear. A hint of her scent still lingered, and his hands shook as he packed silken panties, lacy bras and her soft cotton nightdress. Every garment, each item, conjured memories that tore his heart to shreds.

On the little table in the corner of the room, he discovered pages torn from a notebook—a pen-and-ink sketch of his bedroom with notes about furniture and suggestions for colours, fabric and carpets. On the page beneath it, a sketch of the little nursery.

Sophie had drawn in details here: an old-fashioned timber cot, a patchwork quilt, a rug for the floor, a rocking chair and cupboard, shelves for stuffed toys, the small round window.

Mark stared at the simple drawings and wanted to hurl himself down on the floor and howl like a child.

He was losing her. Losing Sophie and her baby. Losing everything.

With an anguished groan, he tossed the pages of sketches on top of her folded clothes and fled her room.

But he knew that his bedroom couldn’t offer him any peace either, not with memories of Sophie sharing it with him.

Tense as fencing wire, he flung open the door of the linen press, dragged out a blanket and pillow. He would make do with the sofa tonight.

He was hauling off his boots when the phone rang. Leaping up, he stumbled over them in his hurry to answer it.

Please, let it be Sophie!

‘Hello. Is that Mark?’

He suppressed a groan. An English accent, but not Sophie’s. Her mother’s.

Hell! He was going to have to tell her the news.

‘Hello, Lady Eliza.’

‘I’m sorry to be ringing so late, Mark. I tried earlier, but you weren’t home.’

‘No worries. I wasn’t asleep.’ He dragged in a ragged breath. ‘But I’m afraid Sophie’s not here. She’s—’

Damn. He was in danger of breaking down. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he struggled for control.

‘Sophie’s in hospital. I’m afraid she’s had a miscarriage.’

‘Oh, Mark.’ Lady Eliza’s voice trembled.

‘She—she’s OK. Just resting overnight.’

‘My poor baby. I’ve had this dreadful feeling all day that something was wrong with her. That’s why I’ve been trying to call.’

There was a tiny silence.

‘I’m so sorry, Mark. When Sophie told me about the pregnancy, she sounded so happy. Confident and self-assured. I thought it was wonderful news. She said you were really happy about the baby, too.’

‘Yeah.’ Mark couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh. He leaned a shoulder against the kitchen wall. ‘But the doctors said it was inevitable. The foetus had stopped developing.’

‘I see. Well, these things happen, of course. But it’s very disappointing. Poor Sophie. She’ll need some tender loving care when she gets back home with you.’

Mark swallowed. ‘She’s not coming back here.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘She’s heading back to London.’

In the stunned silence that followed, Mark gritted his teeth, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

‘Mark,’ Lady Eliza said at last. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but are you happy with Sophie’s decision?’

Oh God. His throat was so tight he didn’t think he could speak.

‘I know my daughter, Mark. She’s very impulsive and inclined to overreact, and I don’t suppose she’s had much time to think this through.’

‘Not really.’

‘You’re upset, aren’t you?’

‘This has been the worst day of my life.’

‘Would it would help to talk?’

‘I doubt it.’

But he knew it would happen anyway. There was something very kind and compelling about Sophie’s mother. With another deep sigh, Mark lowered himself to the floor, sat with his back against the wall.

‘OK,’ he said, closing his eyes again as tears stung. ‘What do you think we should do?’

The doctor was quite jovial when he saw Sophie on his rounds the next morning. ‘Now, just remember, there is nothing wrong with your reproductive system,’ he told her. ‘You should put this behind you. I’m sure you’ll be able to go full-term with your next pregnancy. And the other good news is you’re fine to go home.’

Home. Her mind flashed to Coolabah Waters. But she had to scratch that thought. Home, of course, was her London flat. Sophie pictured it and waited for the appropriate rush of nostalgia.

Nothing happened.

Maybe she would feel more excited when she got back to England, when she saw her mother and Emma, when she was among her own things.

Maybe then she would be able to delete pictures of a tall, dark and handsome cattleman, and of wide, brown plains and a low house with an iron roof.

Once she was safely home she could put this episode behind her. In time, her memories of Mark Winchester and Coolabah Waters would fade like a bad dream.

Bad dream?

Who was she trying to kid?

Everything about Mark was perfect. She’d never forget him, never stop missing him. She’d fallen completely and totally in love with the man. In spite of his mysterious Outback.

Actually, there was every chance she was halfway in love with the Outback, too. After all, it was a part of Mark. And she’d known all along that Mark and his lifestyle were a package deal. Regrettably, now, it seemed that she loved them both.

As she threw her things into the overnight bag that Jill had packed for her, she wondered if there were enough words in the dictionary to describe how wretched she felt. She placed her hand over her stomach, over her flat, empty womb that had been denied the chance to finish its task.

She wanted it full to bursting, longed for her little bean, fat and healthy, growing into a naughty, lively, little boy or girl.

Her knees buckled and she sank to the edge of the bed. It was so hard to accept there was nothing now. There never had been a chance of a baby being born.

It was even harder to accept that the end of her pregnancy meant losing Mark. But she could hardly pretend that he would have considered a long-term relationship with her if it hadn’t been for the baby.

When he’d made love to her, he’d whispered endearments so sweet they’d thrilled her to the bone, and had encouraged her to hope that he loved her. But he’d never repeated them in the cold light of day.

There was no avoiding the truth. Mark wouldn’t expect or want her to stay on without the baby. Yesterday’s decision to leave had nearly killed her, but deep down she knew it was the right, the only thing to do. This morning, she had to find the quickest way to get back to England.

Mark was halfway down the highway when his phone rang.

‘Mark, it’s Sophie. I’m so glad I got through to you.’

Goosebumps broke out on his arms and back. ‘Where are you? I tried to ring you at the hospital, but they said you’d checked out.’

‘Yes. I’m fighting fit, apparently. I’m in a coffee shop in the main part of town. Where are you?’

‘About an hour away. I’ve packed the rest of your things and I have them with me.’

‘That’s so kind of you.’

Kind? No, not kind—crazy!

‘I’ve rung the airlines and booked my flights,’ she said.

Mark swore. Hoped Sophie didn’t hear it. The goosebumps morphed into a cold sweat. ‘When—uh—when are you planning to leave?’

‘I’ve a flight to the coast that leaves around twelve.’

Twelve? He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles almost snapped. ‘Why? Why the rush?’

‘I’ll spend a couple of nights in Sydney,’ she said, neatly avoiding his question. ‘I can fly home on Friday.’

‘But isn’t that too soon? Don’t you need a little more time to—to get over everything?’

‘I’ll be OK. It’s best this way.’

Best? Sophie had to be joking. It was the worst news possible. But there was no sense in having an argument with her when he was in the middle of the highway.

‘I’ll be cutting it a bit fine, but I’ll make it,’ he told her.

‘I shouldn’t keep you on the phone if you’re driving, Mark. I’ll head over to the airport and meet you there. See you in about an hour.’

‘Wait!’ he shouted. ‘We need to talk, Sophie. It’s important…’

But she’d already disconnected.

In the ladies’ room in the airport, Sophie stood in front of the mirror. She was wearing the clothes Jill had packed for her, a purple T-shirt with a scooped neck and a short denim skirt. But in the harsh light of the overhead fluorescent tube she looked like a dying heroine in the final act of one of her mother’s tragic operas.

Just thinking about her mother brought tears to her eyes. Last night she’d wanted to phone her, but she hadn’t felt brave enough to tell her that everything had gone wrong, that she’d failed again.

She rubbed concealer into the shadows under her eyes, used a tinted moisturiser to blend everything together, added a little blush and some lip gloss, and then sifted her fingers through her hair in an attempt to plump up her curls.

She tried to smile at her reflection.

Come on, Sophie, you can do better than that.

Taking several deep breaths, she tried again. Cringe! She looked like a clown, with an artificially smiling mouth and tragic eyes.

She tried to picture Mark striding into the terminal—her tall, strapping heartthrob in blue jeans. Her smile held until she got to the part where they began to say goodbye, and the reflection in the mirror cracked and crumpled. A glint of silver sparkled in her eyes.

No, no! She was not going to cry today. She had to steel herself. She was going to get through this. She would say farewell to Mark with a brave smile and without shedding a single tear.

She went to the airport kiosk. Her nerves were too on edge for more coffee, so she bought a magazine and a bottle of water, found a comfortable chair and sat down and pretended to read.

It didn’t work, of course. The magazine was full of stories about celebrities with relationship problems. What did she care about their heartache when her own was off the scale? She turned to the crossword. The answers to the first few clues were easy, so she scribbled them in.

This was better; if she concentrated on the crossword, she might be able to forget about…

Zap!

Sophie dropped her pen as long jeans-clad legs and brown elastic-sided boots entered her line of sight.

Her head jerked up and there was Mark, wearing a white long-sleeved shirt that showed off his tan, and looking a million times more gorgeous than any film star. Her heart began to race.

But then she saw his eyes, and the dark pain there made her so suddenly weak she was sure she would never get out of her chair.

‘You made good time,’ she said, trying to smile at him and failing miserably.

She couldn’t think what to say next, knew that neither of them was in the mood for small talk.

Mark set her suitcase down, and she groped for her handbag on the seat beside her.

‘I just need my passport,’ she said, fishing in an inside pocket. ‘And then I can check in.’

As she feared, her legs were wobbly when she tried to stand. Mark was beside her in an instant, his hand at her elbow, supporting her.

‘Sophie, this is crazy. You’re in no condition to be setting out on a long journey.’

She threw back her shoulders, pinned on a smile and tried hard to ignore the electrifying thrill of his hand on her arm. ‘I’m fine, Mark. And I have two nights in Sydney before the long haul home.’

Gripping her other arm, he pulled her around so that she faced him, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that frightened her.

He spoke through tight lips. ‘Tell me honestly that this is what you want.’

Startled, she cried, ‘Of course it’s what I want!’ She willed herself to mean it, and couldn’t let herself think otherwise, not for a fraction of a second.

‘Honestly!’ Mark hissed, gripping her harder. ‘If you have even a shadow of a doubt about going home, say so now, Sophie.’

This was so unlike Mark. She waggled her passport in his face. ‘There’s no reason for me to stay now. You know that. You can get on with your life.’

‘That’s rubbish.’ Still he gripped her. ‘You haven’t said it.’

Her throat was so full she couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred.

‘Sophie.’ Mark held her arms more tightly than ever. ‘Can you really tell me that you can walk away with no regrets at all?’

She blinked to stop herself from weeping.

Mark stood very still, looking down at her with a face that seemed to be carved from stone. Except for his eyes. His eyes burned her.

‘Don’t for one moment imagine that I am free to get on with my life,’ he said quietly. ‘Not without you.’

‘B-but there’s no baby.’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, sweetheart.’ Without warning, Mark loosened his grip, let his hands slide down her arms until he held her loosely at the wrists. ‘Sophie, I’m very sorry there’s just the two of us now. I mourn the loss of our baby more than you can possibly guess.’

The tears she’d been battling sprang into her eyes and trembled on the ends of her lashes.

‘But don’t you see what losing the baby means?’ Mark gave her hands a gentle shake. ‘This is only about us now. It’s about how I feel about you, Sophie Felsham. You alone. And I’m telling you I can’t let you get on that plane. I know I’ll never see you again. And I—I can’t bear to lose you.’

She stood very still, saw how very nervous Mark was, saw the unguarded truth in his eyes.

‘Tell me, Sophie, short of throwing myself on the tarmac in front of the plane, what have I got to do?’ He released her and held out his hands, offered her a disarming, trembling smile. ‘There’s nothing I won’t do to keep you.’

She hardly dared to believe her ears. Each word Mark uttered was like a healing balm for her unravelled heart.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘What else can I say to persuade you to stay?’

‘Oh Mark.’ She gave him a weepy grin as she stumbled forward and reached for his hands. ‘I think you’ve already said it.’

‘I mean it, Sophie. I love you. I know you’ve had a man tell you this before, then turn around and hurt you. But I swear I mean it, darling. I’m not going to change my mind about loving you. You do understand that, don’t you?

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I understand, Mark. It’s almost too good to be true, but I do understand.’

‘I love you so much, Sophie. I can’t let you go. I don’t believe I can live without you.’

Sophie lifted Mark’s hand to her cheek, and it felt strong and good and wonderful. Steadfast.

‘I know I’m asking a lot to expect you to live with me at Coolabah Waters,’ he said. ‘It’s hardly the Ritz.’

‘I don’t want the Ritz, Mark. The Outback is an acquired taste, but it’s growing on me fast. I’m not so sure that I belong in London any more. I was actually feeling very miserable at the thought of going back there.’

Heedless of the travellers milling about them, Mark gathered her in and kissed her with infinite tenderness.

Speaking softly so that only she could hear, he said, ‘Ever since you arrived here, I’ve been falling more deeply in love with you. Every morning, every night, all day long. I would never have believed it’s quite, quite possible to fall hopelessly, painfully in love in less than fortnight.’

‘I believe.’ Deeply moved, she touched her fingers to his lips. ‘The same thing has happened to me.’

His face flooded with a smile as bright as the Australian sun.

‘I promise I’ll make you happy if you stay, Sophie.’

He cupped her face and they kissed, slowly, deeply.

Against his lips, Sophie whispered, ‘I love you, too.’ And then, ‘Let’s go home,’ she said, eagerly linking her arm through Mark’s.

‘Best idea yet.’

They were halfway to the car when they remembered her suitcase, still sitting where Mark had left it in the middle of the terminal building.

Laughing, they hurried back to collect it. ‘I almost forgot something else,’ Mark said as he put the case in the back of the Range Rover. ‘Your mother rang last night.’

‘Really? What did she want?’

‘She was worried about her baby daughter. Had a gut feeling that something was wrong.’

‘Goodness.’ Sophie marvelled at how warmed she was by her mum’s unexpected concern. ‘That’s nice to know.’

‘I told her what had happened, and she was terribly sorry and we had rather a long chat. I ended up inviting her out here for a visit.’

Sophie’s jaw dropped. ‘My mum wouldn’t be able to come. She’s always far too busy.’

Mark shook his head. ‘She’s coming all right. It’s mid-season for the opera company, but she said her understudy will be delighted at the chance to sing this role.’

‘Wow!’ Sophie felt unbelievably chuffed to think her mother wanted to come all this way just to see her. But as she took this in a more puzzling thought struck. ‘But—but how could you have invited her, when you didn’t even know I was going to stay?’

‘I guess…’ Mark shrugged and smiled shyly. ‘I wouldn’t allow myself to consider the alternative.’

‘Oh, Mark!’

‘She’ll be here in two days’ time, and I thought it would be really nice if she could help co-ordinate our wedding.’

Sophie couldn’t hold back a shriek of excitement. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she threw her arms about Mark and gave him an ecstatic hug. ‘That is the most beautiful, beautiful suggestion I’ve ever heard.’

He rewarded her with a long, hard kiss.

Eventually, when they got into the vehicle and Sophie secured her seatbelt, she remembered another important piece of news. ‘The doctor said we can try again for a baby in a month or two.’

Mark smiled. ‘Of course we can. We can have a whole tribe of them.’

‘I think I’d like to call our first baby Jack.’

‘JackWinchester?’ He grinned as he fitted the key into the ignition. ‘Sounds good, but what’s wrong with Jane?’

‘Nothing,’ smiled Sophie. ‘I’ll settle for either.’

‘We’ll have both,’ he said as he accelerated out of the car park.

And, as they turned and headed for home, Sophie saw no reason to doubt him.