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‘No. My father would buy her some gift, or take her out to dinner, and she’d be happy again. He spent so much money trying to make her happy. And then one day they came to the apartment.’
‘Who came?’ She held her breath, waiting for the answer, even though she knew what it would be.
‘The bailiffs.’ His face was harder than stone. ‘It turned out my father had lost his job months earlier, only he hadn’t wanted to tell her. We had to move out. There and then. In front of all the neighbours.’
She swallowed. Her eyes were burning, but not with anger. ‘I’m so sorry, Rollo.’
His shoulders were rigid. ‘The first time was the worst. Like everything else, it got easier with practice.’
His matter-of-fact tone as much as the implication of his words made her stomach clench painfully, and she had to grit her teeth to stop the tears in her eyes from falling.
‘My mother couldn’t bear it. She left the week before my thirteenth birthday.’
This time the effort in his smile was too painful to witness and she glanced away, feeling slightly sick.
‘There was a note. She blamed my father for being fired, wasting their money, losing the apartment. For ruining her life. I’d heard it all before. But seeing it written down was a lot worse.’
He frowned.
‘My dad took it very badly. He felt completely responsible, and he became obsessed with getting the apartment back. He thought if he did, that she’d come home. So he worked and worked. And then one day he collapsed. He was in hospital for a couple of weeks. And then he died.’
His mouth twisted, and without thinking she stepped forward and gripped his hands with hers.
He glanced down at her with a sort of angry bewilderment. ‘He made me promise I’d get the apartment back. You see, he still loved her.’
‘And you will,’ she said firmly. ‘We will.’
His eyes searched her face. ‘After everything I’ve done and said, you still mean that?’
She nodded. ‘I do.’
I do.
Her words danced inside her head and she stared past him dazedly. Behind the skyscrapers the sun was shining like a golden orb. But it was dull and shadowy in comparison to the sudden blazing realisation that burst into her head like a comet.
She loved him.
Her chest felt hot and tight. Surely she must be mistaken. But no matter how many ways she tried to deny or dispute it she knew she was right. She loved him. Why else would she care so much about his happiness? His dreams. His future.
Only she couldn’t think about that now—much less share it with Rollo.
Stepping forward, she slid her arms around him, and after a moment he pulled her close, gripping her tightly. She felt his lips brush against her hair.
‘I’m sorry. For what I said and what I didn’t say.’
Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. ‘It doesn’t matter. So what happened afterwards? To your mother?’
She saw the reluctance in his eyes, felt the sudden rigidity in his arms, but after a moment, his muscles loosened.
‘I haven’t seen or spoken to her for seventeen years. She writes to me, but I don’t read the letters. There’s no point. Nothing she can say would change what she did.’
Daisy nodded. His words were an echo of what he’d said to her in the limo. He’d been lying then and she knew he was lying now. Only it didn’t seem like the right time to point that out.
‘But wouldn’t your father have wanted her to know about the apartment?’ she said carefully. ‘For her to know how much he loved her?’
‘She knew,’ he said tersely. ‘My mother left because she was having an affair. She didn’t care about my father. She didn’t care about me. And she didn’t care about the apartment. When she walked out she took what she wanted and left everything else behind. Including me.’
Something shifted in his expression and just for a second she could see the hurt defiance of the boy who’d been abandoned. Helplessly she squeezed his arm. As an actress, she knew how powerful words could be. But what words were there that could undo this kind of damage?
