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‘The specialist says that, with luck, your father should be able to fly out to Portugal within a week. He’s still very woozy at the moment, and I’m going back to the guest house now, so I’ll see you later, after you’ve picked up Kyle.’
They chatted for a few more moments, Heather telling her mother how lovely Kyle’s home was, and putting her mother’s rather obvious distraction down to the relief of knowing that her father’s operation was at last over. Even so, she would have expected her mother to express rather more interest in Kyle’s home; as it was, she seemed almost uninterested, almost as though Heather wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
It was half-past three when she put down the receiver, and almost immediately the phone rang again.
It caught her off guard to hear Kyle’s voice. Knowing that he was returning home so soon, she hadn’t expected to hear from him.
‘Your father?’ he questioned her tautly, without preamble. ‘Is the operation…?’
‘Over and successful,’ Heather responded, her own voice shaky as she recognised again how deep Kyle’s love for her parents was.
‘Thank God…’
He was only echoing her own thoughts, and yet for some reason the deep resonance of his voice made her eyes sting with tears.
‘You’ll be at the airport to meet me?’
‘Yes, and then we can go straight to the hospital.’
* * *
Heather didn’t want to drive Kyle’s car for the first time in the dark, so after she had replaced the receiver she used the last half-hour of light in which to practise controlling the vehicle. It was an easy car to drive, light and responsive, and by the time she had driven up and down the drive several times, and neatly managed to reverse, she felt confident enough to turn off the engine and go back inside.
Oddly enough, her favourite downstairs room was the one Kyle had shown her, the one he used as his own study-cum-library, and it was in here that she lit the fire and settled down to flip through the daily paper, which so far she had left unread.
In addition to this room, the house had four other downstairs rooms, including a very lovely, south-facing drawing-room, decorated in soft peaches and blues, and a large formal dining-room.
The other two, best described as a sitting-room and a snuggery, were equally delightful, but it was in here, where she only had to close her eyes to imagine Kyle sitting opposite her, that Heather felt most at home.
Without being aware of it, her eyelids dropped, and the paper slid from her lap. It was the chiming of the grandfather clock outside in the hall that woke her, her shocked discovery that it was six o’clock making her rush upstairs to wash and change, before hurrying down again to have something to eat.
The very last thing she wanted was to be late for Kyle’s flight. Hastily gulping down her hot coffee, she rang the airport to check that there were no delays. The paper was forecasting more snow, and it might be that Kyle’s flight would have to be diverted.
Luckily, it seemed that so far Heathrow was clear of any fresh falls of snow.
The Jaguar had such an efficient heating system that Heather suspected she would be more than warm enough simply wearing the soft cream silk shirt and the straight navy wool skirt she had changed into, but just in case the flight was delayed and she had a long wait at Heathrow she added a toning navy jumper, embroidered with panthers’ heads in a subtle silk-weave thread. The outfit had been an expensive one, but well worth every penny. She knew the navy contrasted well with the richness of the satin shirt, and that both threw into relief the lustre of her deep russet hair.
She had taken more care than usual over her make-up, and the image reflected by her mirror was rather more sophisticated than she was used to seeing. Her high heels made her taller than ever, but not tall enough to match Kyle, she admitted wryly.
She suspected that once she was working for him he would not look too kindly on her normal working ‘uniform’ of a tatty old track suit, and told herself that it was with this in mind that she was taking care with her appearance this evening, and nothing more.
It was snowing again as she left the house, large, fluffy flakes that floated majestically down to earth. Luckily, by the time she reached the motorway, it had stopped.
The temptation to drive faster than normal was something she subdued as she concentrated on controlling the powerful car, but even so she found that she reached London far sooner than she had expected.
At Heathrow, it took her some time to park the car, and she told herself that the nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach were the result of this complicated manoeuvre and had nothing to do with the fact that she was here to meet Kyle.
After checking the Arrivals board, she bought herself a cup of coffee and sat down to wait.
The moment she saw him, her heart turned over in her chest. It was an illuminating and shocking sensation, and one that held her rigid at the side of the barrier, her mouth dry with shocked fear, her body taut with the information that her mind refused to accept.
He came closer and she closed her eyes, willing the sensation of aching intensity to disappear. She could not feel like this about him, she would not allow herself to feel like this! She opened her eyes and, almost as though by magic, the feeling was gone. He was just Kyle, Kyle whom she had known for almost half her lifetime.
‘Heather, what is it? Your father…?’
The harshness of his voice, the fierce way he gripped her shoulders, brought her back down to earth.
