AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wasn’t going to stay in the UK—not even now that spring was finally approaching. She’d done the fashion weeks for this time of year and then had quit her agency.
Her last act had been to leave an encouraging card for Louise, to wish her luck in the career that was taking shape for her. Not that she needed any luck—she was doing well and, Celeste had been glad to see, was dating someone from outside the fashion world. Someone who was six foot two and played rugby—quite enough to take on the likes of Karl Reiner or similar, who might be intending to exploit Louise. Louise had wised up fast, and was pretty good at taking care of herself now.
She’d be OK from now on, Celeste knew.
And so will I—somehow!
How, she didn’t know, because right now it was impossible to imagine being ‘OK’ by any definition of the word—unless it included ‘functioning like an automaton’. But at least she was functioning, she thought. Functioning sufficiently to have done everything required to get to this point, where all she had to do was close her suitcase, pick up her handbag with her passport in it and head for the airport.
Where she would go precisely she wasn’t yet sure. She might try Spain—it was cheap enough to live there prudently for a while, on her savings and the rental income from her flat, and it was warm. Then she frowned. No, of course she wouldn’t go to Spain. She would hear Spanish spoken there, and that would remind her of Rafael...
There must be somewhere else. She ought to have thought about it earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to. Thinking about it would have required planning, commitment, envisaging the future. And she couldn’t do that. The future had stopped. Stopped when Rafael had turned his back on her and walked out through the door...
So where else is warm this time of year? Warm and not Spanish-speaking?
She made herself think, because thinking of somewhere warm to go at this time of year was better than thinking about Rafael turning his back on her and walking out of her life...
Where was it warm now? Where did people go to get away from the UK?
Dubai was popular—and very warm—everywhere in the Gulf was warm...
The guillotine slammed down in her head. She would be dead before she ever went to the Gulf again...
Frantically she thought of somewhere else. Where was it summer now?
Australia?
The guillotine slammed down again.
With a smothered cry, she seized up her bag. She would find somewhere warm to go when she got to the airport. Who cared where? She didn’t. She would never care about anything again.
Or anyone...
Pain clamped around her heart, but she ignored it. She always ignored it. There was nothing else to do but ignore it. And keep functioning. That was important.
And finding somewhere warm, even though her bones were cold...so very cold...
The entry bell to the house sounded. Her taxi had arrived. She picked up her suitcase. Her keys. The agent already had keys to give to the tenants. She looked around her bedroom one last time but could feel nothing. She was too cold to feel anything. Carrying her suitcase, she went into her little hallway and buzzed open the front door, to show the taxi driver she knew he was there. Then she put on her coat, busying herself doing it up because it would be chilly outside. Then she opened her flat door, casting one last look around, in case there was something she had missed.
But there was nothing. Nothing left of her.
Nothing left of her anywhere.
She stepped out onto the landing, moving to pull her flat door shut behind her.
And stopped dead.
Rafael was coming up the last flight of stairs towards her.
* * *
She couldn’t move. Could not move a muscle. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. It could not be happening...
Yet there he was, striding across the short outer landing right up to her door, right up to her. She opened her mouth to protest. To protest that this could not be happening, that it was impossible. That he’d walked out of her flat long, nightmare months ago and could never return...
