The Love Detective (46 page)

‘Ruby?’

I hear a voice behind me. Low and distinctive, it makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Jack?

I turn around. He’s standing just a couple of feet away. What the . . .?

‘I believe I just met your agent, Diana. She had to rush off to a dinner. She asked me to give you this.’ He reaches into his pocket and holds out my wallet.

My heart is thudding loudly in my ears, only this time it’s not from running. I can’t believe it. I’m seeing things again. This can’t be real.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ he jokes, but I can tell he’s nervous.

Our eyes meet.
No, this is real.

‘I’m sorry.’ My words come tumbling out. ‘I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye—’

‘Hey, it’s fine, you don’t need to explain,’ he shrugs it off quickly, looking embarrassed.

‘No, but I do,’ I say desperately. ‘You see my sister called and I was trying to find my phone and I knew you had a torch in your backpack . . .’ I’ve rehearsed this speech a million times in my head, imagined what I would say
if
I saw him again, but now it all comes out in one breathless stream, my words tripping over themselves. ‘I found the engagement ring,’ I blurt.

For a moment, there’s a pause, then his face floods with realisation.

‘You didn’t think . . .?’ he begins, and I nod.

‘I thought a lot of things,’ I say quietly.

And then I tell him. About how I’d jumped to all the wrong conclusions, the message from my sister, catching the bus to Jodhpur, their decision to wait to get married. In the darkened corner of a pub in Covent Garden, over several glasses of white wine and as many hours, it all comes pouring out. Then I tell him about the women on the plane . . .

‘You met them?’ He’s incredulous.

‘Yes,’ I nod, ‘isn’t that a coincidence?’

‘Or serendipity,’ he says quietly.

And then it’s his turn. He tells me about his father and how he’d learned of his secret, about the ring and how he’d arranged to meet with a jeweller in Jaipur to get the stone re-set and cleaned, ‘Because Dad wanted it to be perfect,’ and why it was important to him to travel to India to keep his promise. ‘He gave up everything for me,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘He sacrificed the woman he loved and I wanted her to know why. Not just because it was Dad’s dying wish, but because I felt somehow responsible.’

‘Responsible, how?’ I ask.

‘Because I was the reason Dad never went back to India and married the woman he loved,’ Jack replies quietly. ‘I was that unborn child.’

And all at once I understand what he meant by life being complicated, and yet love, real true love, is strong enough to withstand it all.

Then he talks about us. About how the morning after I’d gone, he’d driven around the city with Rocky for hours looking for me, ‘Until I figured you’d run out on me because you’d changed your mind about us,’ he says, his gaze meeting mine to confirm that he’s wrong. ‘Though Rocky said I shouldn’t give up, he said I had to say hello from him when I saw you again.’

I look at him, surprised. ‘He did?’

‘Yeah, he seemed pretty convinced I’d see you again,’ he smiles, almost shyly, then peers at me. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh nothing,’ I shake my head. ‘It’s just something really weird happened on my way here.’

‘Weird,
how
?’

‘Well, I know this is going to sound totally nuts . . .’ I pause, wondering how I can say it, then give up and just come out with it. ‘I saw Rocky driving his Ambassador through the middle of London. I mean, I know it couldn’t have been, but I could have sworn it was him . . .’ I break off with an embarrassed laugh. ‘Isn’t that bizarre?’

Jack looks at me, as if deep in thought.

‘Not as bizarre as the email I found this morning,’ he replies after a moment. ‘It was sent weeks ago but had somehow ended up in my junk folder. It was from the car rental company in India I’d booked, asking me why I’d never turned up at Delhi Railway Station to meet the driver.’

‘What? But . . .’ I break off in confusion. ‘But then who was Rocky?’

Jack shakes his head. ‘Who knows? Our fairy godmother?’

It’s a joke and I laugh. But maybe he’s right, I reflect, thinking back to our road trip across Rajasthan. If it hadn’t been for Rocky and his little white car, none of it would ever have happened: the Taj Mahal, the desert, Udaipur . . . I recall his words when he saw us together in Udaipur. ‘My job is done.’ At the time I dismissed it, but now . . .

Now I can’t help wondering if he appeared to us at Delhi Station for a reason; if we didn’t really break down in the desert; if sitting next to the women on the plane wasn’t just some bizarre coincidence; if somehow it was all part of his plan to bring me and Jack together. It sounds crazy,
more
than crazy, and maybe it’s just my overactive imagination blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. I mean, it must be,
mustn’t it?
That kind of stuff’s impossible.

And yet, there’s something about India. Something about that mystical land that makes anything and everything seem possible; a faraway place of sacred lakes and romantic legends in which you can travel back in time; of kingdoms where astrologists are able to read your fortunes in the stars, and palm readers tell you of your destiny.

‘So I hear you turned me down.’

‘What?’ I look up to see Jack smiling at me ruefully.

‘Diana wanted you to meet me for a coffee, but you said no.’

My face floods with sudden comprehension. Of course, that day Diana and I had lunch, the friend she wanted me to meet for coffee—

‘That was you?’ I gasp incredulously, but already I can feel the incredulity falling away. Of course. It all makes perfect sense now.

He laughs good-naturedly but, before I can explain, we’re interrupted by a rowdy after-work crowd, who spill over onto our table. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he says. Standing up, he holds out my coat so I can slip my arms inside, then walking over to the bar he pulls out his wallet. ‘I just need to pay the bill.’ A waiter hands him a card terminal and, as he puts in his credit card, I glance at it.
Jack Simon
.

I have a flashback to the last prediction and my breath catches inside me. ‘Your last name’s Simon?’

Jack turns to look at me. ‘Yes, why?’

Inside I feel a little explosion of joy, but I just smile nonchalantly and shake my head. ‘Oh, no reason, it was just something Rocky said.’

We walk outside into the evening darkness. For once the forecasters were right, it’s started snowing, sugar-coating the pavements and whirling snowflakes around our heads.

‘So why are you in London?’ I ask, as we pause under a streetlight.

‘I’ve got a connecting flight,’ he replies evenly.

I feel a crush of disappointment. That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.

‘What time?’

He checks his watch. ‘Oh, about an hour ago.’

You see, that’s the thing about love – just when you think you’ve got it all worked out, it has a habit of surprising you.

‘So, what else did Rocky say?’ As he moves towards me, I feel his warm breath on my cheek.

‘That I was very lucky,’ I reply, lifting my face to his.

Our eyes meet and, as he holds my gaze, he smiles. ‘Well in that case . . .’ Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me against him. ‘That makes two of us,’ he says, kissing me.

And it’s there, a million miles from India, on a snowy pavement in London, that the mystery of love finally works its magic.