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And how could she confide in Nicola—or anyone? Confess how—or why—her marriage had so suddenly become this overwhelming disaster.
From the start she’d blamed Zac for having her sent away seven years earlier, and yet hadn’t she too been at fault in trying to further her aims by that foolish, headlong pursuit of Adam? And, knowing Adam as he clearly did, perhaps Zac’d had good reason to think she and Mannion were better apart.
But it had given her an excuse ever since to regard her ongoing preoccupation with Zac as dislike and resentment, closing her eyes and her heart to any other possibility. Telling herself her shock at seeing him again was born from anger, not desire. Focusing with icy determination on claiming her right to Mannion by whatever means became necessary, ‘Be careful what you wish for’ had been one of Aunt Joss’s admonishments. ‘Because you might get it.’
But I ignored that, she acknowledged with a pang. Just as I wouldn’t listen to Zac’s warning about greed. And now the substance of my life has gone for ever, and I’m left with the shadow.
And I’m even fooling myself about that. Because Zac was never going to be mine to have and to hold, along with all the other promises in the Marriage Service. And maybe I should be thankful that he never realised how I truly felt. Because that would have left me with even more shame—more trauma to contend with when he walked out.
Is there a guardian angel for idiots too blind and stupid to understand their own hearts? Surely there must be.
Yet, she thought, maybe there was something to be salvaged from the wreckage. A way to justify what she’d done and the decisions she’d made.
When the wedding was over, she could heal the scars of her mother’s rejection by the Latimers and end her exile in Spain by offering her the permanent home she should always have had—at Mannion.
And maybe she could herself find comfort in building this new relationship with a woman she hardly knew. Take satisfaction in someone else’s dream coming true at last.
She sat down that evening and wrote a letter to Linda, filling her invitation with warmth and encouragement and even a shy attempt at affection.
Telling herself that surely her mother would respond this time. Making a silent promise that, if not, she would go to Spain to this—Roberto’s Bar and persuade her face to face to accompany her back to England.
And that she would totally refuse to take no for an answer.
Some good has to emerge from all this, she thought. It must. Because it’s all I have left to believe in.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THERE WAS A feeling of autumn in the air, Dana thought ruefully as she drove down the hill towards Mannion. Or was it just her imagination telling her that she had nothing ahead of her but a long, cold winter?
On the other hand the cooler, showery weather of the past week was supposed to revert to sunshine again in time for the wedding.
Her visits to the caterers and the florist in the nearby town had reassured her that everything was proceeding as planned, as she would tell Nicola, who was beginning to show signs of bridal nerves.
Dana was nervous too, shaking inside at the prospect of seeing Zac again, and sick at heart at the pretence of married bliss she would have to keep up until the wedding was over and everyone was gone.
Everyone, she repeated silently, her throat tightening.
But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. Instead, she had to concentrate on practicalities.
Like telling Nic that her cake is beautiful, she thought, and that the Vicar’s wife is personally supervising the white and gold floral decorations in the church in case old Mrs Wilmot tries to smother the pews in pink spray carnations.
At Mannion, the decorators were putting the finishing touches to the bedroom Aunt Joss would occupy, bringing that part of the refurbishment to an end.
Dana’s feelings about seeing Miss Grantham again were still mixed. She wished so much that she was the kind of aunt who’d encourage her to sob out her bewilderment and heartbreak in her lap, instead of treating her with the chilly disapproval which was the more likely reaction.
Nor had she heard a word from Linda—not even an acknowledgement of her letter—so a trip to Spain might be on the cards after all.
And maybe a break would do her good. She still wasn’t sleeping well, her dreams filled with great empty houses where she wandered from one deserted room to another, searching—always searching, yet finding nothing.
As she reached the house, she saw a strange car was parked on the other side of the main entrance and, for a moment, her heart leapt in swift painful hope, until common sense reminded her that Zac’s car was different from this other one in size, colour, make and probably every other respect.
