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So they’d talk, go into this thing, thrash it all out until there was nothing left to know. And maybe along the way, he’d discover whether he’d been responsible for driving her back into Maclaine’s arms.
He was on his way to do just that when he heard the sound of a tractor. He turned quickly on the balls of his feet and strode to the window.
The machine had already crested the brow of the hill, the snow-plough attachment steadily but surely clearing the track towards the cotta
ge.
This was his way out. Out of here, back to civilisation, where he could arrange for transport out for Bella. And then he could get on with his life, let her get on with hers. They would go their separate ways again.
His way out. If he wanted to take it.
He grabbed his sheepskin from the hook on the back of the kitchen door and walked out into the cold winter afternoon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BELLA remembered noticing storage heaters upstairs, and went up and switched them on. At least the bedrooms would be less arctic tonight.
Tonight. Her heart filled with a painful mixture of learning and bleak despair. Another endless, restless night, knowing Jake was in the next room, a few yards away, yet so distant from her he might as well be on the far side of the moon.
There had been moments when she’d really thought he still cared, but that had been nothing more than self-delusion, wishful thinking. She put it down to his determination to get through the next few days with as little friction as possible. He wouldn’t want a rerun of this morning’s crazy escape attempt, or hysterics or sulks.
Steeling herself, she started down the stairs to join him again, deeply envying his ability to cut his losses, write the three years of their marriage off as an unfortunate mistake and get on with his life. She wished she cared so little about him that she could do the same.
Part of the way down she heard the laboured sound of a tractor. She froze, unable to believe it at first, then ran back up to the tiny window at the head of the staircase and peered out.
Jake, still shrugging into his coat, was pushing through the snow towards the tractor. It had already cleared most of the track. Numb, clutching onto the window-sill, Bella watched as Jake reached the vehicle.
She could imagine the conversation going on between him and the driver. He would be asking for a lift out of here, explaining that his car wasn’t functioning. And as Jake reached into an inside pocket she turned away, trudging down the stairs on leaden legs.
They’d be out of here before nightfall—or he would, at least. Jake would fix that. He always managed to get his own way.
She wanted to put back her head and howl, and the urge to weep her heart out was almost irresistible. But she wouldn’t do either of those things. She wouldn’t let herself be such a fool.
‘The cavalry’s arrived!’ Five minutes later he walked back in, bringing a wave of crisp frosty air with him.
That was why she was shivering all over, Bella decided, and forced herself to sound interested. ‘So I saw. We can’t be as isolated as we thought we were.’
The snow plough was back in operation again. The noise was growing louder as the driver approached the cottage.
‘How on earth did he know we were snowed-up here?’ She felt too dead inside to really care, but it was something to say, a way of masking her foolish inner dread at the coming parting.
But perhaps the ending of their enforced stay was a blessing, she decided dully, doing her best to convince herself. Being with him only brought back all the pain of wanting him, the mental and physical agony of knowing he could hardly bear to be anywhere around her.
The only real question was, would Jake go back in the cab with the driver alone, or would he take her with him? He was looking mightily pleased with himself, and was making no effort to remove his coat.
Which meant he was intending to leave any time now. She thought about the clothes still in the drier, the packing she’d have to do, the brightly burning fire which would have to burn down to ashes before it was safe to be left, and knew Jake wouldn’t hang around until everything was sorted. Neither, in all probability, would the tractor driver.
Jake was going to leave her behind, and was looking insultingly happy about it. Grinning!
‘The owners of the cottage got in touch with him. He farms in the locality and the council uses him to clear some of the lanes. They—the owners—didn’t want their holiday tenants to feel snowed in and abandoned.’
She watched him walk to the fire, hold his hands to the flames. Even though his back was firmly turned to her she knew he was still looking pleased with himself. He couldn’t wait to wash his hands of her!
As the tractor reached the cottage, did an ungainly three-point turn then stopped, Jake swung round and walked to the door, obviously leaving without even saying goodbye, and Bella said rawly, ‘I take it you’re going back with the driver. Would you ask him to wait while I get ready to leave, too?’
She simply couldn’t bear the thought of being here alone, with these new and hurtful memories to add to all the rest. It was too much heavy baggage to have to carry through the long, lonely years that stretched ahead.
Jake turned, scanning her features with narrowed eyes. If the arrival of the snow plough had surprised him, it had obviously shocked her. Ruined all her carefully laid plans. He could read the dredging disappointment in her beautiful eyes.
