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‘Mary, what you did was extremely dangerous...’He’d looked over to her mum.‘Perhaps we should give tonight a miss.’
‘She’ll be fine,’her mum had said as she’d picked up the car keys.‘Anyway, we won’t be long. We’ll just put in an appearance.’
‘But Mary’s upset.’
‘Then she needs a night with Granny. Come on, darling, or we’ll be late.’
There had been the swirl of her mum’s dress as she’d crossed the room, the familiar floral scent as she’d bent over and kissed her pinched face, which had been blotchy from crying.
‘There are some treats,’her mum had whispered as she’d wrapped Mary in her arms.‘Let Granny think she found them. I love you, darling.’
Fourteen years on, Mary could still feel the tender, fragrant shelter of her mother’s embrace, which was denied to her for ever now.
It was a relief when visiting time ended.
There was no sign of spring as she stepped out into the rain, just grey upon grey. Even the red bus looked grimy as it approached, and Mary was jostled as she stepped on. There were no seats, so she stood holding on to the back of one, jolting with each stop-start lurch. As they turned into the high street and neared her stop, all Mary wanted to do was get in the shower and... Not just wash away the prison smell, but to cry in a way that she hadn’t since her mother’s funeral.
But Mary was scared that if she started she might never stop.
She was still so very hurt by and cross with her father, but there could be nothing gained by revealing that to him. Mary knew he was depressed, and blamed himself for the accident, and knew of the downward spiral he had fallen into afterwards.
The worst part—the unsaid part—was that she also blamed him.
How she wanted to be back there in the lounge of that hotel now, sipping hot chocolate and talking... Being listened to.
Costa had actually sat down with her and taken the time to consider her options—had offered her work.
In that slice of time she had feltseen.
But even before that thought had been properly processed Mary amended it, for suddenly all she wanted to do was remain unseen. She wanted nothing more than to hide.
For Costa Leventis was stepping out of a luxury car similar to the one that had taken her home the other night.
Mary didn’t exactly dress up when she visited her father in prison, and she was horribly aware of her thick black tights and the even thicker jumper over a denim skirt—all drenched, of course.
Naturally he looked stunning, in a long, dark coat and shoes that made her think of Sir Walter Raleigh putting down his cloak for the Queen. He was rakishly unshaven, Mary noted uncomfortably. It was as though the devil himself had come to her door—except it wasn’t terror that had her stomach tightening as he approached.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I booked in for a trim.’
‘We’re closed on Mondays,’ Mary said, and took out her keys.
‘So how come you’re working?’
‘Just catching up while it’s quiet,’ she responded, too embarrassed to admit she lived there. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on.’
‘I have a proposal to put to you.’
‘I said no.’
‘A different one.’
‘No, thank you!’ Mary answered tartly.
She couldn’t bear it that he thought she charged by the hour. Except she didn’t unlock the door and go inside. Costa challenged her at every level. He was the most perfect sight for sore eyes, and the most exciting, unexpected moment of her dreary day.
‘It’s a serious proposal. If you would rather I don’t come in, of course that’s fine, but can we at least go somewhere more conducive to conversation? I don’t have much time...’
