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And she should possibly not be telling him this, Maggie realised, but she was starting to see that he wasn’t the enemy or the one taking advantage of her status.
That had been Suzanne.
‘My boss and my friend, Flo, know my plans.’
And he waited for her to explain further.
‘But I don’t have any family, not really. My mother was single and she died when I was seven. She lost touch with her family when she was pregnant with me—they were all in Ireland anyway.’
‘Who raised you after your mother died?’
‘I was in and out of care homes and there were a couple of foster homes but they didn’t work out. Apart from friends, there’s no one,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I guess Suzanne realised there was no one to miss me.’
She could see how it had happened now.
All those questions that Maggie had thought insensitive at the time had been Suzanne digging for information.
‘I should have listened to my instincts,’ Maggie said. ‘I knew something wasn’t right at the time. I just didn’t know what—Suzanne had me pegged as disposable.’
‘Well, she was wrong.’
The conviction in his voice had her look at him.
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I think I do,’ Ilyas said. ‘You said that you have friends?’
‘Of course,’ Maggie said, ‘not many, but...’ She didn’t really know how to explain, but she tried. ‘I don’t get close to people very easily.’
‘I heard that if, apart from family, you can count on one hand your true friends and people you have truly loved then you go to your grave a lucky man.’
‘I’m not a man.’
‘I know,’ Ilyas said, and smiled, for he certainly did! ‘Go on...’ he said, and he took her furled hand. ‘Name one.’
‘Flo,’ Maggie said immediately.
‘How did you meet?’
‘She started to come into the café when she was a nursing student. She’s a midwife now.’
‘And you’re good friends?’
Maggie nodded. ‘Very. Flo’s the best.’ And she watched as he unfurled one of her fingers.
‘Who else?’
‘Paul.’ Was it her imagination or did his hand hesitate a touch when she said Paul’s name? ‘He’s my boss,’ she explained. ‘But we get on really well.’ She watched his hand on hers as she elaborated. ‘And his wife.’
His fingers relaxed into hers. ‘I was their bridesmaid,’ she told him. ‘Though Kerry, his wife, doesn’t quite count as a finger,’ Maggie said. ‘So that’s two.’ She looked at the hand he held in his. ‘I’ve got other friends, of course, but...’
‘Two is excellent,’ he said. ‘I would hope you have many years to find the other three. I am sure that if I kept you here in the desert you would be very much missed.’
He wasn’t going to keep her, though.
Maggie knew he believed her and she knew she was safe.
‘How many fingers do you have?’ Maggie asked, but he didn’t readily respond. She was more than curious, and not just about friends, for she wondered if there was a woman in his life.
