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I nod. ‘That’s great, Irene. So... what did Pru say?’
‘Well... we’re not off the hook by any means. She’s decided to give us one last chance. But basically, if we balls it up again, that will be it.’ She grimaces. ‘IfIballs it up, I mean.’
‘Right.’ I take in a breath and blow it out slowly, feeling quite faint. ‘Oh, thank goodness for that.’
Irene gives me a watery smile and pats my arm. ‘I’m going upstairs to see Bertie.’
‘Okay.’
I sink down on the sofa and run my hands slowly through my hair.
We’re okay for now. But it’s clear that if we slip up just one more time, Pru will follow through with her threat and take action...
*****
I’m trying to watch TV a while later when my mobile rings.
It’s Rory.
‘Hi, Clara? How are you?’
I laugh bitterly. ‘I’ve had better days.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Oh, it’s a long story.’
There’s a pause. Then he says, ‘Meet me for a drink at the Swan?’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘We need to talk about the New York trip. And you can tell me what’s been going on. Is it... Lois?’
‘Lois? Oh, no. No, Lois is fine. It’s Bertie. But he’s okay.’ I’m feeling so much better already, just talking to Rory. ‘When do you want to meet?’
‘I’m free now?’
‘Okay. Great. Irene’s here with Bertie, so I can come straight over.’
‘You trust her now? Irene?’
‘Erm... yes.’ I smile, realising it’s true. I do actually trust her to look after Bertie, and it feels like such a relief.
‘Great. I’ll see you there.’
*****
The fair on the village green is winding down for the night, but the big Christmas tree– a regular fixture at this time of year– is still lit up, its gold, green and red lights twinkling against the night sky. The snow has stopped falling for now, although the ground has a crisp covering like the white icing on top of a Christmas cake.
I park by the green and my heart lifts to see Rory’s car drawing up behind me.
I’m still feeling so shaky and vulnerable after my confrontation with Pru that I can’t seem to get out of the car fast enough. Rory smiles over at me, and a sob breaks out from nowhere as I hurry to meet him. Tears are brimming over and wetting my cheeks in the freezing December air.
‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He sees the anguish on my face and pulls me into a hug, and I give in to the warmth and the utter bliss of being in Rory’s arms.
He guides us into the nearby bus shelter. It’s mercifully empty, so I let go, sobbing against the rough material of his coat and breathing in his heady scent.
At last, I calm down, laughing awkwardly as I gaze up at him. ‘I must look a proper sight.’
