City of Jasmine

“But would you want to?”

He reached down and kissed my cheek. “No. Not even with you, and I adore you. I’ll simply have to go back to Mistledown and make the best of things. I shall be a proper lord of the manor, and when the time comes, it will all pass to a feeble-minded cousin in Ireland.”

“Is he really feeble-minded?”

“Well, he’s Irish, so it’s difficult to tell,” he said with a twinkle. I slapped at his leg.

“Don’t be catty.” I picked up the photograph. “I can tell you think I’m an awful fool for not going to Damascus.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

Wally leaned down and put his cheek against mine. “Because somewhere in your very large, very tender heart, you are hoping it was all a terrible mistake and that he is alive.”

I reared back as if he’d struck me. “Hoping! What an extraordinary thing to say.”

“But a truthful one. Evie, everyone else sees the brave face. Everyone else sees the big smile and the plucky girl who flies her little plane and waves for the cameras and flogs boots and face cream. But I see everything else. I see the shadows under your eyes when you’ve sat up half the night thinking about him. I see the hunted expression you get anytime his name is mentioned. And I see that somewhere beneath the sophisticated, glamorous façade of the barnstormer who crosses the globe with nothing but her dancing slippers and her best lipstick is the heartbroken girl whose husband called her bluff and left her sitting on a ship when she thought he would come crawling back.”

I blinked back unshed tears, my throat tight and hot. “Damn you.”

“People are always damning me,” he said with a sigh. “And it’s always because I’m right.”

I looked at the photograph again. “Do you really think he’s there?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. The point is it doesn’t really matter, dear girl. What counts is that you find some answers once and for all. You’ve spent the last five years running away from everything, dashing off on another trip just so you wouldn’t have to think about how you were going to pay the butcher or the baker.”

“You forgot the candlestick maker. And you’re quite wrong, you know. Those trips were how I paid the bills.”

“Nonsense. You could have learned to type and taken a nice job in an office somewhere. You could have married again. You could have accepted the annuity Gabriel left you. There were a hundred other ways to keep a roof over your head, my love, and you managed to choose the only way that kept you running. Well, it’s time to stop. Face down your ghosts. Exorcise them once and for all. Forgive them, forgive yourself and get on with the business of living.”

I thought a long moment. “And what if Gabriel isn’t a ghost? What if he really is alive?”

“Then you must find him and demand answers. You deserve them.”

“I suppose so,” I said slowly. “I imagine I could get one of the newspapers to underwrite a detour before the Caspian flight. Aunt Dove’s most successful book was her memoir of travels in the Levant in the ’80s. I could tell them we’re retracing her steps, meeting up with old friends, that sort of thing. I could promise some camel caravans and desert nomads for local colour. They’d lap that up. And I know she would love to see her old friends. I could tell her I want a little rest before the rigors of the Caspian trip.”

“See? You’re two steps ahead as usual, winkling out the difficulties. You’re halfway to Damascus already.”

I smiled. “You’re right, of course. I do deserve an end to it. If Gabriel’s gone, I ought to be able to put him behind me once and for all. And if he’s alive...” I hesitated then gave him a broad smile. “If he’s alive, I’ll let you hold him down while I thrash him.”

“Excellent notion. I’d love nothing better than to get a few licks in myself. I’ve always hated him.”

“Why should you hate him, Wally? You never even met him.”

He shrugged. “He had everything I ever wanted in life and left it on a ship out of Shanghai. I could kill him on that score alone.”

I jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t really want me,” I reminded him. “I am not at all your type.”

“Oh, but how I wish you were.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.