Authors: Lucinda Riley
Tor looked up at him and squeezed his hand. ‘It can’t be helped, and let’s hope that, now Greta’s remembered, she won’t be so reliant on you in the
future.’
‘Yes, let’s hope so. Can I get you a drink?’ David asked, walking to the state-of-the-art fridge and putting a glass under the ice-maker.
‘No, thanks,’ Tor said, her head back in the newspaper.
David carried the drinks back to the drawing room and placed Greta’s glass in front of her.
‘Thank you.’ She picked it up to take a sip and David saw that her hand was shaking.
‘Anything I can do to help, Greta?’ he asked, feeling that she must take the lead.
‘David, it seems that
all
you’ve done for the past God knows how many years is to help me. And Cheska,’ she added. ‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you.
You were there for both of us all that time when I was in hospital. I don’t know how you did it. I feel . . . so guilty, about so many things. How can I ever repay you?’
‘You just have. You know, I always refused to give up hope, so it’s very gratifying to be proved right. Anyway, it’s the last thing you should be worrying about. You’re
family, Greta, and so is Cheska and at times of need, we stick together, don’t we? That’s what families do. And before you say you aren’t related by blood, either of you,
it’s irrelevant.’
‘LJ must have seen me as the instigator of Marchmont’s destruction. And, in a way, her own. Although it’s made me feel better to know that Owen used me as much as I used him.
All those years, and he was in love with LJ. That was something I never knew. It’s so sad, really, for both of them.’
‘Well, they were both as stubborn as each other. Sometimes it happens that way.’
Greta shivered as a flashback of a moment came into her mind full throttle. She gasped involuntarily, it was so vivid.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. If you’ll excuse me, David, I’m going to go upstairs and lie down for a while.’ Greta stood up abruptly and walked from the room. David wondered what on earth
it was she’d remembered. And realised it could be anything.
‘Talk about a can of worms,’ he muttered to himself, draining his gin, then went to join Tor in the kitchen.
Greta sat on her bed, wishing she could walk straight back downstairs and ask David if what she’d seen in her flashback could really be true; that he’d once told
her he loved her and asked her to marry him.
Greta closed her eyes again and saw them at a table . . . yes, yes! It had been in Monmouth at the Griffin Arms that he told her he loved her – she could see it in her mind’s eye.
And for some reason which seemed utterly unfathomable to her now, she had refused him. Greta searched the cobwebbed recesses of her mind, desperate to remember why.
Patience, Greta, patience
, she told herself, having already learned that some things jumped into her brain involuntarily whilst others she had to wait for. Because there was another
memory; something that had happened after this which she knew might explain things more clearly.
She closed her eyes once more and, as if she were trying to net an elusive butterfly, attempted to relax and let her synapses reach out and try to catch it. Glimpses were there already . . . it
was at the Savoy – she recognised the heavy silver cutlery and the immaculate white linen tablecloth – she and David were talking over lunch and she’d been very nervous because
she had something to tell him. Then David had spoken to
her
and she’d been thrown off balance by it . . . What
was
it? Bad news, something that had shocked her . . .
Cheska and Bobby Cross.
Greta opened her eyes, knowing then the exact moment she had decided to tell David how stupid she’d been when she’d rejected his proposal all those years before. She had been about
to tell him she loved him and ask him whether he still felt anything for her . . .
And then later that evening, they’d been due to meet for a drink, but Cheska had arrived before him, just as David had said. And they’d had that terrible argument. Greta now knew
that she hadn’t ever been able to say the words she’d needed to say to him because she’d walked into oblivion a few minutes later . . .
So he had never known over all these years what she had been planning to tell him.
Was it too late . . . ?
Maybe not
, she thought, rerunning the memory of his declaration of love and his proposal over and over in her mind and hugging it to her. With a smile of pleasure, Greta eventually
dozed off.
‘Fancy some fresh air, darling?’ David asked Tor after they’d eaten lunch the following day.
‘Good idea. Greta’s sleeping, is she?’
‘Yes.’
The two of them set off, Tor sweetly asking questions about what he had told Greta. He answered most of them monosyllabically. He felt protective of Greta and what was happening to her but,
equally, guilty that this Christmas had not quite been the one he’d envisaged. For him, or for Tor. For months now he’d been working his way mentally towards asking Tor to marry him,
understanding that he was too old to hang on to his dreams and visions of perfect love with Greta. He and Tor were happy together in a practical sort of way. And really, he should do the decent
thing and put a ring on her finger.
All these intentions drifted through his mind as he answered her questions as best he could. At the same time, he pondered on what it was that Greta had just recalled – but did it really
make any difference? Even if she had now remembered her past and the part he had played in it, she had never loved him. Or, at least, not in the way he wanted her to. Besides, despite his feelings
for Greta, which he knew he would never lose, Tor had given him a sense of stability; such a refreshing contrast to the madness of the time he’d just recounted to Greta.
His current relationship might not contain the same passion, but was that relevant at this point in his life, given the pain he’d experienced in the past? That period of his life, running
between Greta and Cheska when they were both so sick, had caused him so much stress he’d wondered at the time if he were half mad, too.
And he knew Tor was getting restless, feeling rightly that their relationship needed to be put on a firmer and more permanent footing. He’d even brought his mother’s engagement ring
with him to Marchmont – the very same one he’d had in his pocket that evening when he’d proposed to Greta. It was sitting in a drawer of their bedroom, ready for him to take out
at the appropriate moment. Maybe, he thought, he should wait until they were away at his apartment in Italy for New Year. All this would be behind them then – but, at the same time, David was
intuitive enough to know that Tor had been tense about Greta being here in the first place, let alone what had happened since.
‘I think there’ll be a thaw by tomorrow, judging by the heat of that sun.’ Tor looked up at him and smiled.
‘You’re probably right,’ David agreed. ‘But it’s been beautiful while it’s lasted.’
‘It certainly has.’ Tor put her arm through his then leant up and kissed his cheek. ‘We must decide what adventures we’re going to plan for next year. Where do you fancy?
I was thinking that we could either go back and do the Marco Polo route through China, given we didn’t manage to get there last time, or maybe Machu Picchu. We could leave at the beginning of
June and then travel through South America.’
David loved her for what she’d just said. It was the perfect antidote to the last few hours. She wasn’t dwelling on or complaining about Christmas and his lack of attention to her,
but propelling him forward into the future. David sighed inwardly. The past had gone. And Tor had been so patient about the Greta situation, unlike so many other women would have been. He owed her
a lot for continuing to stand by him.
‘Either sounds wonderful – whichever you prefer. Also,’ David said, out of pure instinct, ‘I want to ask you something.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Well, I think that if we’re going to be travelling abroad this year it would be a good idea to change the name on your passport sooner rather than later.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I’d like you to be my wife, Tor. And excuse me if I can’t go down on bended knee, because rheumatism might set in due to the snow and you’ll never get me up
again. But there it is.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘What kind of comment is that to make to a comedian?’
She smiled then, and gave an almost girlish giggle. ‘Well, are you?’
‘Tor, of course I am! I was going to wait until Italy but, just now, something came over me and I had to ask. So how about it?’
‘I . . . are you sure?’ Tor seemed surprised, almost dazed by his proposal.
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘I think so.’
‘Goodness, darling, we’ve been together for years. Why is it that you’re so shocked?’
She turned away from him for a while and he saw her taking a deep breath before turning back to him.
‘Because I thought you’d never ask.’
Greta woke up feeling refreshed and exhilarated. Even though there were many things David had told her, and she had remembered many more herself that she must somehow deal
with, the fact that David had loved her once filled her heart with happiness. And if he had loved her then, surely he could love her again . . . ?
Greta ran a bath then took extra care with her hair, make-up and clothes before joining everyone downstairs in the drawing room for drinks before dinner.
The moment she entered the room she could feel a buzz of excitement. A chilled bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket on the coffee table.
‘We were waiting for you,’ said Ava, coming towards her and drawing her into the room. ‘David has an announcement to make.’
‘Although I think we all know what it is,’ said Simon with a grin.
‘Shh!’ said Ava, digging him in the ribs. ‘Uncle David, you’ve held us in suspense for nearly an hour.’ She handed Greta a glass of champagne. ‘Come on, then,
spit it out.’
‘Well, the thing is, Tor and I have decided to get married.’
Ava and Simon raised their glasses and cheered. ‘Finally!’ said Ava.
‘Congratulations,’ said Simon, going to kiss Tor on the cheek. ‘Welcome to the family.’
Greta stood there, stunned, and as she did so, she saw that David was looking at her. They stared at each other for no longer than a few seconds before Greta recovered her equilibrium, pasted a
bright smile on her face and went to congratulate the happy couple.
‘What a Christmas this has been,’ said Ava a little later as they sat at the dinner table. ‘First you remembering, Granny, and now Uncle David and Tor. I
didn’t think there’d be a lot to celebrate with LJ gone, but I was wrong.’
‘Yes,’ said Tor. ‘Let’s raise our glasses to LJ.’
‘To LJ.’
Greta, reaching the end of her ability to look as thrilled as everyone else, excused herself on the pretext of a bad headache and went upstairs to bed.
Undressing and climbing under the duvet, she did her best to be happy for David.
And
Tor. Whatever David had once felt for her was obviously irrelevant, in the same way that, looking
back, it was irrelevant how she’d felt about Max, Cheska’s father. The moment was now, not then, and she couldn’t expect anyone else to alter their plans just to suit her.
It was simply too late.
Greta woke up early the following morning, after a restless night. She went downstairs and found Tor alone in the kitchen, eating breakfast.
‘Morning, Greta.’
‘Morning.’
‘There’s some coffee on the go if you want it.’
‘I’m afraid I’m a tea drinker at this time of the day,’ Greta replied, switching on the kettle. ‘It must be my Northern roots.’
‘You disappeared early last night, but I wanted to apologise for the fact that the announcement wasn’t exactly best timed, given what’s been happening to you. Remembering
everything so fast must be very difficult.’
‘It is in some ways, yes, but in others it’s very positive.’
‘You’re dealing with it okay, then?’
‘I think so. How would I know?’ Greta shrugged defensively.
‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Anyway, you get a bravo from me for being so stoic about it all. And it really is revelatory for you. Once you’ve got over the shock, I’m
sure you’ll be able to move on to a much more fulfilling and active life than you’ve had in the past few years.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I will.’
‘I think it was perhaps one of the reasons David felt that the moment was right to ask me to marry him. Knowing that, in time, you’d be much more able to be independent. I hope you
don’t mind me saying so.’
‘Not at all.’ Greta forced a smile. ‘Now, I think I’ll take my tea back upstairs. I have a couple of letters to write.’
Greta left Tor in the kitchen before she poured her cup of hot tea over the woman’s head just to stop her well-meaning but subtly barbed comments. She didn’t need anyone to remind
her what a ‘burden’ she had been to David over the years. And although she couldn’t blame Tor for resenting the fact, just now, Greta really couldn’t handle her nose being
rubbed in it.
She found Mary in her room, making her bed.
‘Hello,
fach
, how are you?’ Mary looked up at Greta, something like sympathy in her eyes. For what, Greta couldn’t be sure.
‘Coping, thank you, Mary,’ she said, determined that everyone should stop feeling so damned sorry for her. ‘What about David’s news? Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘Yes, it is.’ Mary’s voice had a shallow ring to it and she gave Greta an odd look. ‘Not what I was expecting, I must say.’
‘Really? I thought it had been on the cards for years.’
‘Well, now, that may be the thing. To my mind,
fach
, if you find someone you love you don’t hang about for all that time before you make up your mind to marry them.
Especially not at Master David’s age.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Not that I don’t like Tor, but . . . I’ve never felt his heart’s been quite in it. Well
now, it’s none of my business, is it? I hope they’ll be very happy, Miss Greta, and that you, too, will finally be able to find some happiness. You’ve been through a
lot.’