AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“At least say you’ll think about it.”
“I’ll think about it,” Summer lied.
Teddy carried her bag downstairs. “You will come again, won’t you?”
“Of course I will.” Summer kissed him on the cheek. “And I’ll give Michael your love . . . Oh.” An envelope on the hall table caught her eye. Addressed to Michael, it had the red-and-black Ducati logo embossed on the back. “Is he still getting mail sent here?”
“Occasionally,” said Teddy. “I believe we’ve always been his permanent address for passports and licenses and things like that. This only arrived this morning. I assume it’s the registration papers for that damn-fool motorbike.”
“Do you mind if I take it? I’m doing all Michael’s filing at the moment. Gives me something to do between visits. You wouldn’t believe what a mess his flat’s in.”
“Oh, indeed I would.” Teddy chuckled, handing her the Ducati envelope. “You should have seen his childhood bedroom. It looked like the wreck of the Hesperus.”
A few minutes later Teddy watched from the doorstep as Summer’s car pulled away.
Poor child.
Young love was so very hard. And loss at that age was quite unbearable.
The sooner Summer Meyer went home and forgot all about Michael, the better. For all of them.
Michael De Vere lay prone and all but lifeless on his hospital bed. Tubes ran from his nostrils and mouth to a ventilator at his side. Two round electrical pads just above his nipples sent a read of his heart rate to the beeping monitor at the foot of the bed. Amid all the high-tech equipment, Michael looked as white and peaceful as an alabaster statue, still and silent as the grave.
Summer Meyer held his hand, stroking each limp finger like a child caressing a favorite doll.
“I’m here, Michael,” she murmured, over and over. “I’m here.”
I’m here, but where are you, my darling? That’s the question. Everyone tells me you’ve gone. But I feel you here, with me. Don’t leave me, Michael. Please, please don’t leave me.
She would find out the secret.
She would find out the truth.
Then, if she had to, she would let him go.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Alexia De Vere flipped grimly through the Telegraph’s three-page spread.
“I’ve seen worse.”
“So have I.” Sir Edward Manning handed her the remainder of the morning’s newspapers in a thick stack. “The Sun’s calling you a lame duck. The Guardian predicts you’ll be out of a job by Christmas. And the Mirror likens you to a gestapo agent.”
“Isn’t that actionable?”
“Probably. But a lawsuit won’t help you keep your job, or win back voters. Much more of this and the prime minister will announce he’s giving you his ‘full support.’ Then you’re really done for.”
In normal circumstances, Alexia would have laughed at that. But the strain of the last month had really taken its toll. Her honeymoon period as home secretary was well and truly over. Public criticism of her perceived lack of grief over Michael’s accident had been relentless and quite poisonous. Last night, against her better judgment, Alexia had appeared on a popular television talk show to discuss it, a move central office had dreamed up to help soften her image. Unfortunately the program had the opposite effect, with viewers and critics universally branding Alexia “cold” and “unfeeling.” Remorseless was a word that had come up more than once, which really made Alexia’s blood boil.
“I wish someone would explain to me what exactly it is that I’m supposed to be sorry for,” Alexia complained to Edward. “Not being sorry enough, I suppose?”
Most of this morning’s pieces eviscerating her character had focused on her answer to the talk-show host’s question “What is your biggest regret?” To which Alexia had replied pithily: “I don’t do regret, David. I don’t have time,” a sound bite that had alienated what few supporters she had left.
“If I were a man, people would be praising my for my strength.”
“Very possibly, Home Secretary. Unfortunately, you are not a man.”
“No, Edward. I’m not.”
