‘This is outrageous, Hugh. You need to come with me.Now. I’m sorry, Sam, truly. I ammortified. As soon as we’ve said our goodbyes, I’ll be back to start the training session as planned.’
‘I can’t let you disappear off with him—’ Sam started to say. Amy exhaled loudly and felt surprised she hadn’t breathed out a jet of flame.
‘Neither of you islettingme do anything,’ she said. ‘I’m going to escort Hugh to his car on the basis that he’d rather that than I call the police, tell them about his threatening behaviour and ask them to move him on. Then he’s going to drive away.’
‘You wouldn’t do it,’ Hugh hissed, but she knew him well enough to see his confidence was shaky.
‘Try me,’ Amy said, staring up at him stonily.
After a moment’s hesitation, Hugh sloped away from Sam and walked around Amy so that he was leading the way. With evident reluctance, he moved in the direction of the Hall’s sweeping driveway. His silver Audi was there, polished to perfection and glinting in the sunshine.
When they reached the car, Amy folded her arms. She was going nowhere until he’d unlocked it, climbed inside and had disappeared entirely from view. She stared at him defiantly, daring him to change his mind about leaving.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he clicked a button on a high-tech key fob and the vehicle’s wing mirrors swung out into position. ‘This isn’t over, you know,’ he drawled. ‘I’m not losing you tohim, of all people. I don’t care if he’s been lusting after you since you were teenagers.’
‘You. Are. Deluded,’ Amy said. ‘You and I areover, for good. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.’
‘You’ll be back in London before too long,’ Hugh said, appearing not to have heard her. ‘This little passion project of Carolyn’s is going to bite the dust before the end of the year– the second my arse hits the CEO’s chair. You’re sensible, not some sentimental fool. When the opportunity arises to head up the lit fic division of H-K, you’ll take it– and you’ll leave lover boy back here without so much as a second glance. The ice queen I know and love will return.’
Amy felt sick. ‘You don’t love me, Hugh– you never did. And I’m not an ice queen, as it turns out. I just didn’t love you, either.’
‘What’s that song?’ Hugh said, mock-frowning, clearly enjoying her discomfort– believing he had her number. ‘“What’s Love Got To Do With It”? It could have been written for us.’
‘Goodbye, Hugh,’ Amy said, slamming the driver’s side door on him the moment he’d clambered inside. Unperturbed, he rolled the window down.
‘And by the way,’ she yelled, his smug confidence finally fraying her temper, ‘you’re completely wrong about our theme song. Have a dig for the right one on Spotify, it’ll be the perfect listen on your drive back down south: “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”.’
Propelled by rage and mortification, Amy made her way back to the walled garden. She had no idea what she was going to say to Sam when she reached him, but she felt an irrepressible sense of urgency.
It was embarrassing beyond endurance that Hugh had accosted him in his own home on her account. She could hardly bear to wonder what had been said before she arrived, though it was clear that– via some mysterious means– Hugh had got wind of the fact that she and Sam had once been more to one another than colleagues or argument-prone neighbours. Unable to fathom where he might be getting his information from, she tucked the question away for further investigation later.
Now, her priority was apologising to Sam. It struck her that the list of things she needed to say sorry for kept getting longer.
She ran through an aged red-brick archway and into a pretty, well-ordered space that consisted of a central lawn bordered by shrubs, rose bushes and multicoloured dahlias. It had been agreed that this was the ideal spot for learning and practising the dance she and Sam were to perform; there was plenty of open space, and they’d be shielded from prying eyes while they endeavoured to get the steps right. It would also facilitate a fairly realistic dry run for festival day, when they’d be dancing out of doors– probably in warm sunshine and with a hum of ambient, distracting noise floating through the air.
She scanned all four corners of the garden and felt her heart sink as she realised Sam had disappeared. Had he gone back to the house? Should she follow him? Maybe he’d decided to call Carolyn’s bluff after all and tell her this was a mad idea– that he wouldn’t partake in it.
Just as Amy had made up her mind to head back to the Hall and look for him, she heard footsteps crunching up the gravel path outside. Then Sam’s voice: ‘Thanks for agreeing to come along and help us today. I think I speak for my partner, as well as myself, when I say we’re both a little nervous– neither of us has ever done anything like this before.’
Hispartner. She knew he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but the word still made her insides twinge. It seemed she was going to have to put her apology on hold for now; Sam– sounding as calm and courteous as ever– was clearly showing their dance instructor to the appointed spot for the day’s lesson.
Sam started when he and the man he was with strolled into the garden to discover Amy already there. She felt flustered– almost like she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be. This was ironic, she realised, since she’d spent plenty of evenings on Rowton Hall land without permission in her youth, never once worrying that her presence might be illegitimate.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I just came straight back here … I thought that made sense?’
‘Of course,’ Sam replied. His voice was taut and strained. She realised that, for the first time since their reacquaintance, he was properly angry with her– not just feigning outrage for the sake of their usual banter.
‘Walter, this is Amy,’ he said to the man on his right. ‘My colleague and dance partner.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ Walter said, bobbing at her politely and offering her his hand. His accent was Northern, but softly so; Amy imagined he might come from Derbyshire or thereabouts.
He was a solidly built man of late middle age with a thatch of thick, longish salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore round glasses and a pair of slim, smart trousers, topped with a shirt and waistcoat. The aesthetic struck Amy as an unusual combination of modern hipster and nineteenth-century dandy, but it suited him. She shook his hand and said, ‘You, too.’
‘Well,’ Walter said thoughtfully, looking from Amy back to Sam. ‘You’re a bit of an odd couple, but I’m sure we’ll soon have you in sync.’
Amy accidentally barked a laugh at this. Anodd couple?It was almost like Walter knew them.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said, slightly pink. ‘I meant nothing untoward by that– it was really a reference to your height difference. Ordinarily I’d try to partner a petite lady such as yourself with someone less tall and broad. But it’s not a problem, as such.’
