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She drew her hand across her eyes distractedly as she fought for composure and the strength to control the trembling that was threatening to take over her mind as well as her body. Part of her couldn’t believe that they were talking like this.
‘I thought perhaps the noble John would be waiting in his chariot?’ Blade drawled after a long moment with cynical mockery. ‘Especially after the touching scene at lunchtime.’
‘He’s gone to London for his treatment,’ she said stonily as she kept her gaze straight ahead. ‘And I told you, we were just talking.’
‘You tell me a lot of things, sweetheart,’ Blade said with dangerous smoothness. ‘It’s picking the wheat from the chaff that proves troublesome.’
‘I’m not arguing with you, Blade—’
‘That will make a pleasant change,’ he said drily. ‘Well, just sit back and enjoy the ride.’
‘Enjoy the ride’. The phrase brought Sandra in front of her as vividly as if her sister were in the car.
She had been surprised, surprised and relieved when she had arrived at her sister’s house that morning and been granted access. On the long journey down she had anticipated a harsh rejection like before when she was just sixteen and desperately eager to renew her acquaintance with this, the last of her flesh and blood. But this time Sandra had allowed her to enter the house, and as her husband had shown Amy into the large downstairs room that Sandra occupied as a bed-sitting room, he had tried to prepare her for the change she would see.
‘She’s ill, Amy,’ he had whispered quietly before knocking on the old paint-chipped door, ‘but it’s a good sign that she’s agreed to see you. She needs to make her peace with you, come to terms with the past.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Amy had looked at his kindly face, her blue eyes wide and puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Sandra will explain.’ He had knocked then and pushed her into the room quickly. ‘I’ll be out in the garden if you need me. I’ll come back later with some coffee.’
Her sister had looked up as she had entered and Amy had flinched inwardly at the change in her. Six years had wrought havoc. ‘Amy. Dear, sweet, gentle little Amy.’ Sandra’s voice had been low and tight and Amy had paused in her headlong flight to her side. ‘So you’ve come back at last. I was hoping you would.’
‘Were you?’ Amy stood uncertainly in the middle of the shabby room looking down into the bitterly twisted face.
‘And your husband?’ Sandra’s eyes had narrowed. ‘He’s not with you?’
‘No.’ Amy had a strange feeling as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was something evil in this room, something cold and infinitely depraved, and she found herself wishing with all her heart she had stayed at home. ‘He’s away on business.’
‘Of course, the high-flyer.’ Sandra laughed softly. ‘He would be.’
‘Yes, well …’ Amy forced herself to look into the dark gleaming eyes. ‘How are you?’
‘How am I?’ Sandra’s body had been twisted slightly in the wheelchair, a large car rug covering her lower half and her hands resting on the arms of the chair. ‘I’m dying, Amy, didn’t you know?’
‘You’re …’ Amy’s voice had choked away and she took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Your husband said you were ill, but I didn’t understand—’
‘There are lots of things you didn’t understand when you came in here, but you will before you leave.’ There had been immense satisfaction in Sandra’s throbbing voice, satisfaction and malignant gratification. ‘But here’s me forgetting my manners. How are you, little sister?’ And Amy had known, at that moment, that something horrendous was going to take place. ‘Are you enjoying the ride?’
‘The ride?’ Amy tried to smile but found it was beyond her.
‘The ride of life,’ Sandra had hissed malevolently. ‘There you are with your wealth and looks and rich, rich husband. You must be enjoying the ride—you are, aren’t you?’
‘I—yes, I am, yes.’ She was having a job to speak coherently; there was something in this room that was freezing the words in her throat.
‘Good.’ Sandra had smiled with diabolical ferocity. ‘Well, I have some news for you, little sister.’ And then it had started, the destruction of her world …
‘Here we are.’ As Blade’s voice brought her back to the present, she gazed in alarm at the small cottage in front of them set in its own neat garden without another dwelling in sight. ‘This is the cottage I’m renting, quiet, secluded—’
