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And something had died.
She knew straight away what it was. The love which had always glittered in his eyes when he looked at her. And Shelley could have fallen to her knees and wept.
He couldn’t speak for a moment and when he did he destroyed the last, lingering trace of hope.
‘You sicken me,’ he managed at last. ‘You sicken me beyond belief. Go to your rich lover, Shelley. Go give him what he wants. What you seem to want more than anything. Certainly more than decency and respect—’ And he turned on his heel and left as abruptly as he had arrived…
Shelley looked at him now, through the candlelight which danced on the table before them. ‘You were so harsh and unforgiving, Drew. Don’t you know that I had to summon up every bit of nerve to come round to see you the next day? To make my peace?’
‘You had wounded my pride,’ he said simply. ‘Incapacitated me with your lies. I was afraid of my temper, afraid of what I might say, what I might do…’
Jennie had come to the door, her face sour with disapproval.
‘Can I see him, Jennie? Please? To explain?’
Jennie shook her head, struggling to come to terms with what she had obviously just been told about her best friend. ‘He won’t see you, Shelley. He’s made his mind up. He says he won’t ever see you again.’
‘Here—’ Tearfully Shelley began to tug the thin gold band with the tiny diamond from her finger. She wrenched it off. ‘You’d better give him his ring back!’
‘He won’t want it.’
‘Then tell him to melt it down! Or to keep it—to remind him of what a lucky escape he had!’
Word filtered out around the village, and even her mother found it difficult to speak to her without looking as though she was going to be ill. She was whispered and talked about on the streets and several of the bolder youths from the housing estate made it very clear that her reputation had gone before her.
Even Geoff, who had sold Marco the car at a substantial profit, was disapproving, but then he liked Drew. That was the trouble. Everyone did.
Shelley felt isolated and marginalised and at the end of her tether. In despair she fished out the heavy ivory card which Marco had given her. He had written a London phone number on the back.
‘If you want to see me,’ he had purred, ‘then give me a ring.’
She took the train up to London, feeling lost and very small in the noisy, bustling capital. And feeling very out of place in her cheap clothes when she met Marco in a hotel which was the last word in luxury.
They sat together in the foyer and he seemed to notice her uneasiness as she stared indifferently at the bone-china cup of tea which stood cooling before her.
‘Let’s go for a drive,’ he said suddenly.
He drove her out of town and parked the car by the river, and she told him everything that had happened. Afterwards they sat there in silence.
‘So what do you want to do?’ he asked eventually.
‘I don’t know.’ Was that disorientated little voice really hers?
‘And you say it’s definitely over? Between you and this Drew?’
‘Definitely,’ she said flatly. ‘He saw us.’
He said something in Italian and Shelley didn’t speak a word of the language at the time, but even she could work out that he was swearing.
‘Would it help if I spoke to him? If I took responsibility? Told him that things got a little out of hand, but that it was nothing more than that?’
‘Only if you want to get your face beaten in.’
He put his hands on the steering wheel. He wore leather driving gloves which were as soft as skin. Gloves which probably cost as much as Drew’s entire week’s salary.
‘And you are a virgin.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
A sigh escaped from his mouth. She saw his hands grip and tighten around the steering wheel, saw the brief nodding of his head as he seemed to come to some sort of decision.
‘Let me tell you a little about myself,’ he said softly. ‘And afterwards you must decide whether you want to come to Italy with me.’ He turned, and gave her a blinding smile. ‘Mustn’t you?’
To a young and mixed-up girl, it had seemed the only solution.
‘Madam?’
Shelley looked up. The waiter had arrived with their first course. She kept her gaze fixed on the swirl of cream and chopped herbs which topped the soup, and it was seconds before she could find the courage to lift her face and look directly at Drew.
Did he see her pain? Her regret? Was that why he was studying her so intently, as if uncertain of what she would do next?
‘It hurts to remember,’ he observed.
