‘But it wasn’t,’ Tilly said. ‘It went viral. Millions and millions of views.’ She was looking at Luc. ‘I know we can’t whip up a thunderstorm on the summit of the Baou des Blancs but I can see an image that’s still going to be powerful.’
The expression on both Luc’s and Sophie’s faces confirmed that Angus wasn’t wrong to think that this was out of character for Tilly.
‘I’m going to dress Clara in black,’ she continued. ‘Long boots and leggings and a waterfall cardigan. Antoine can be in black, too, with one of those hats like you used to wear as Le Phénix, Luc. What are they called?’
‘Fedoras.’ Luc was looking interested now. ‘He can borrow mine if you like.’
‘Yes.’ Tilly’s face was alight with her excitement. ‘They’ll be in front of the cross. There’s a place – you have to climb down thecliff a little way – and the cross is above and behind them. Like the lightning?—’
Angus could actually feel the prickle of hairs lifting on the back of his neck. He could see Tilly where she’d been just below the point where the cliff had begun to fall away more steeply. He could feel the fear hovering like those ominous clouds in Luc’s photograph, ready to unleash something truly terrible. He could feel the thump of his heart against his ribs.
Sophie was still staring at Tilly but Luc gave a silent whistle.
‘I can see it,’ he conceded, ‘and it’s alternative enough to appeal to a very different demographic but?—’
‘But will it really fit with your brand?’ Sophie’s forehead was creased with concern. ‘The pure romance?’
‘It’s risky.’ It was an effort for Angus to keep his tone neutral. ‘You could alienate the people that want the traditional romance you deliver now. Clichés exist for a reason. Why don’t you use the terrace at La Maisonette? Where you said Ellie got proposed to? Light all the candles and turn on the fairy lights. It’s safe.’ He was aware that his indrawn breath was slightly uneven. ‘Safe is good. Do you even have insurance cover for injury caused by an unsafe location? There are no guard rails on that cliff face. I don’t think I even saw a warning sign.’
It felt like he was protecting himself by switching into the mode that had made him so successful in what he did for a living. He couldn’t let himself think about how it made him feel to imagine Tilly being hurt – or worse – but he could still feel that hollow sensation building in his gut. His heart pounding. And a heat that was new. Maybe he was angry at having done precisely what he’d sworn he would never do in allowing himself to become vulnerable to the heartbreak that destroyed too much of his father’s life. Maybe that was why he could hear an edge of anger in his voice as he carried on talking. Falling in love in yourpersonal life was as ill-considered and stupid as taking totally unnecessary and dangerous risks in your professional life.
‘What if your models or future clients end up with a lifelong disability or someone gets killed?’
Or you do. The unspoken words came, unbidden, from the back of his mind and it felt as if they were already coated with grief.
Thiswas what was inside that damned bubble, wasn’t it?
Thiswas why it had suddenly felt like he’d been fighting for his life.
This fear that, like Tilly had suggested, you could love someone so much that it wasn’t that they made your life better, it was that theybecameyour life. And that gave them the power to destroy you.
Like he’d watched his father being destroyed.
Angus was staring at Tilly as the excitement drained out of her face, but he couldn’t stop now any more than he’d been able to stop ranting at her the first time they’d met, when he’d been listing all the romantic things he didn’t want to appear in his holiday – even though it felt like he might have already conquered whatever it was he’d been fighting.
‘Couldyoulive with that?’ His voice was weary now, which made it sound cold. ‘Your business certainly couldn’t. It would cease to exist. You’d be bankrupt virtually overnight.’
Everyone was staring at him.
Nobody was saying anything.
And, into that silence, came the ringtone of Angus’s phone.
22
Just like that.
It was a bit of a blur when she tried to remember the details of how an evening with friends had simply imploded so quickly. She’d watched Angus walking back and forth in the square outside Sophie’s house, having a private conversation that left him looking grim. She’d offered to walk him back to his car when he said he had to get the first available flight to London but Luc took one look at Tilly’s face and told her to stay with Sophie. He’d make sure Angus didn’t get lost in the village.
And then he was gone. With no more than a hurried farewell. One phone call and Angus McLeod had, apparently, walked out of Tilly’s life with barely a backward glance. He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye.
When Luc got back, he said Angus had spent the whole time on his phone, organising his flight, along with taxis and accommodation and appointments to meet people. It seemed that something catastrophic had happened with the case he was working on but he wasn’t at liberty to discuss it.
‘He did say to apologise for leaving you without transport,’ Luc told Tilly. ‘I told him we’d look after you. I can drive you home. Or you could stay with us?’
‘Yes…’ Sophie echoed. ‘Stay with us. I don’t want you being alone tonight.’
Tilly shook her head, trying and obviously failing to hide how upset she was. Not so much by Angus’s abrupt departure but by what felt like a totally unexpected sabotage of the vision she’d had for the new direction in her business. Why hadn’t he said anything when they were on top of the mountain? Or when she was talking about it again over dinner that night?
