Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Are you actually serious? London?" Mum put her arm through Don's and stared at me, clearly upset.
"Bit of a sudden decision isn't it, love?" Don said. "I mean, it's Christmas Eve, the day after tomorrow. Cutting it a bit fine."
"I've always wanted to spend Christmas in New York," I said truthfully, "but it's not possible. I'd never get a visa in time, for one thing. I looked online and London looks amazing with all the lights and the department stores and markets. I've never been there before, and it will be an experience."
Don whistled. "London, though? Proper expensive there, you know."
"That hardly matters," I reminded him. "I can afford it, so why not?"
"But it's Christmas," Mum said, clearly bewildered. "You should be at home, with us. It won't be the same if you're not here."
I felt a warm glow inside, grateful that she felt that way. I knew I would miss her, too. I'd miss all of them. But I needed to get away and think things over in peace. The guilt was eating me away, as Dad's words kept coming back to haunt me. You're a chip off the old block, Marley.
Kit's assertion that I'd only been with him for the money hurt more than I could express, and I kept remembering how I'd promised to look after Great Uncle Charles, then spent the entire weekend in bed with Kit, forgetting all about a lonely, sick old man. His death was on my conscience, and I just didn't know what to do any more.
Knowing Kit was just a short walk away from my flat every day didn't help, either. I needed to get far away from him and all the painful memories he stirred up. London wasn't as far as New York, but it would do for a while.
Mum gave me a helpless look, but said, "Well, if that's what you want. I'll go and find your presents. You can, at least, take them with you to that London."
As she hurried upstairs, Don fixed me with a piercing stare. "So, go on. What's to do?"
"I don't know what you mean," I said, feeling the tell-tale heat spread through my face.
"This has something to do with Kit, I'd bet my last penny on it. What happened?"
"Why do you think anything happened?"
"Oh, come on." He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Let's not play them games, eh? Look, he were looking at you like a lovesick puppy one minute, and the next thing we knew you were standing miles apart not talking. You don't go from one thing to the other without something happening. What were it?"
I sighed. "I don't honestly know how it all went so wrong."
Mum lumbered down the stairs, dragging two big bags of presents. "There you go, love. At least you'll have something to open on Christmas morning, even if you won't have your family around you."
I blinked away the tears. "What the heck are all these?"
"Christmas presents! What else?" She tried to smile, but I could see she was upset. "Some from me and Don, and some from Olivia and David, and the boys."
"But that's far too much," I protested.
She waved my protests away. "We had a bumper budget this year, with our unexpected inheritance. Decided to blow a whole stack of it on Christmas. And, why not? You only live once, don't you?"
I put my arms around her. "Thanks, Mum. Love you."
She patted me on the back. "Love you, too. Have a smashing time, love. Ring me up on Christmas morning, won't you?"
"I will," I promised.
Don cleared his throat. "Right, well, I'd best help you to the car with this little lot. Dead icy out there. Don't want you falling and breaking your neck, do we? Wouldn't want you to miss out on London."
He collected the bags, and I waved goodbye to Mum, then followed him out onto the road, where he began to pack the boot of my car with the presents.
"So, go on," he said, after checking that Mum hadn't followed us. "What happened?"
"Do you really want to know?" I said, knowing that he'd insist he did.
It took me a good ten minutes to tell him everything, while we both faffed around in the boot, moving things around so Mum would think we were still busy sorting the presents if she looked out of the window.
When I'd finished, Don gave a big sigh and slammed the boot shut. "No wonder you're all over the place. Attacked on all sides, eh?"
I could have hugged him. He, at least, understood how I felt.
"Reckon Kit feels the same," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
I glared at him. "I thought you'd be on my side."
"Strikes me, love, that you and Kit are on the same side."
"And how do you work that out?"
"Oh, come on, you're not that daft. Look, it's pretty obvious that he loves you to bits, but he thinks you only care about him for the money. He doesn't trust that you love him more than cash. You love him to bits, too, but you have serious abandonment issues. You can't get past the fact that he walked out on you. Not your fault, entirely. I mean, he did walk out on you, even though I shouldn't imagine he sees it that way. In his eyes, you chose comfort over love. Hard for him to get past that. In your eyes, he did exactly what your father did. He left you. You don't trust that he really loves you and won't abandon you again. Hence your willingness to believe there was something between him and that woman, even on the flimsiest evidence. You'd already made up your mind he wouldn't hang around, and she just fitted what you'd already imagined. Obvious, really."
I stared at him. "Who are you? Sigmund Freud?"
"Just an ordinary bloke who doesn't have any major issues, which gives me an uncanny ability to step back and see the issues others are having, especially those I happen to care about a lot. You know what you need, don't you?"
"A holiday in London," I said.
"No. You need to collar that bloke of yours, sit him down, and thrash this out, once and for all. You'll never get any peace, if you don't."
I bit my lip. "I can't. There's too much—I just can't."
He shrugged. "Fair enough. If you'd rather spend Christmas all alone in some fancy hotel room, then go ahead. Don't think it will make you feel any better, though. The only thing that's going to bring you peace of mind is sorting this mess out. And I'll tell you another thing. Until you sort this gold digger stuff out, you'll never enjoy a single penny of this money, and Fox Lodge will mean nothing to you. So there you have it." He held up his hands. "Now, I've said it, and that's that. No more on the subject. Whatever you decide to do now is your business." He put his arms around me. "You be happy, kidder. That's all I ask. Merry Christmas, Marley."
I swallowed down the tears. "Merry Christmas, Don. Look after Mum for me, won't you?"
He winked. "Goes without saying. Love of me flipping life, she is. Don't you worry about her, I'll make sure she's all right. Always."
He would, too. I knew it. I smiled and climbed into the car, wondering briefly how all the presents were going to fit into my tiny living room. I hadn't moved into Fox Lodge yet, and as I drove away from Mum's house, I reflected on my plans to move in after the New Year. I would start renovating then, too. I'd already picked up several brochures for new kitchens, fitted wardrobes, and flooring specialists.
Truthfully, though, I'd barely glanced at them. Don was right, I couldn't enjoy the money. Dad's opinion of me no longer mattered, but Kit's did. It mattered more than anything.
I pulled over and stared at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. What was I doing? How could I ever move on if I didn't sort it out with Kit, once and for all?
He'd hurled some pretty vile accusations at me, and I could sort of understand why. But he hadn't acknowledged how much he'd hurt me, and he needed to know that he really had.
It was time he knew what he'd done. It was time he knew it all.
***
Kit cursed as the parcel tape twisted in his hands. He wasn't having much luck with it. Every time he tried to tear a strip off, it managed to get all tangled up, and he had to pull it off the box and start again. He supposed it was his own fault. He should have been more patient. It would probably help if he could be bothered to go and find the scissors.
Glancing around, he totted up how many boxes he'd managed to fill so far. Sixteen. That meant he had four boxes left to unfold, and he hadn't even packed up half the house. This was going to be a major challenge. He'd have to order more boxes, for a start.
There was no hurry, really. Seffy had assured him that he had at least a couple of months before he needed to think about moving out. "We probably won't even start to look at it until early spring. Don't forget, we'll need planning permission, although that shouldn't be a problem. I know it's a Grade Two listed building, but our architect is very skilled at knowing what the planners are looking for and ensuring all renovations are sympathetically carried out. Besides, we're creating multiple homes for several families in an area where housing is at a premium. We've never had a problem before, and I can't foresee any now."
It would at least give him time to find a rental property. More importantly, it would give Jack and his family time to find somewhere to stay until their new apartment was ready to move into. That was the priority. With everything they'd been through, Kit was determined that they should come home to a decent home. He'd already left Jack's details with several property agents in the area. As for himself, anything would do, as long as he could get to the factory within a reasonable time.
As soon as he found something suitable, he was out of there. He wouldn’t be waiting for Seffy and her developers to move in. The sooner he put Fell House and all its bitter memories behind him, the better. It was time for a fresh start. From then on, his life would revolve around Carroll's and his family. Nothing else mattered.
He wrenched the parcel tape off the box and threw the roll onto the floor, fed up with the whole thing. His back ached, and his mouth tasted of adhesive from where he'd bitten off endless strips of the tape. He leaned back in the chair and gave a heavy sigh. Any visitors would never know it was just two days until Christmas. There was nothing remotely festive in the house. Then again, Kit didn't feel remotely festive himself. In fact, he was battling to stay positive. There were too many unresolved issues in his life for him to feel settled.
The Rochester contract was still only a possibility. He'd heard nothing from Ethan Rochester, either way. The future of the factory hung in the balance. Even with the contract, the company's continued existence was far from certain.
Then there was Marley.
Kit closed his eyes. He'd been determined not to spare her another thought, but as was always the case with her, she insisted on making guest appearances in his mind at every given opportunity. Deep down, he knew that if things had worked out with Marley, the other stuff wouldn't seem so dire. With her, he'd always felt that anything was possible. Instead, all that loomed before him was hard work and uncertainty.
At a knock on the door, Kit reluctantly opened his eyes. Whoever it was could go away. He wasn't in the mood for visitors.
With his next breath, the vague hope that it might be someone with news of the contract had him getting to his feet. He could use some good news. Fingers crossed.
The last person he’d expected to find on his doorstep was Marley. She was all wrapped up in a thick quilted coat, almost like a duvet. A fake fur-trimmed hood shrouded her face, so her features were barely visible, and she had her arms wrapped around herself as though even such a heavy coat wasn't keeping her warm.
Her voice, though, was strong and determined. "We need to talk."
"Come in, why don't you?" he muttered, as she pushed past him and entered the hallway.
God, now what?
Part of him was annoyed that she had the nerve to just storm over and act as if she had every right to bug him, after everything that had been said. The other part of him was so thrilled to see her that his stomach leapt in joy at the sight of her. Honestly, that annoyed him even more. Even his own body betrayed him when it came to Marley.
She pushed her hood back and looked at him, a trace of nerves in her eyes. Clearly, she wasn't as confident as she was trying to make out. Standing there, she looked so fragile that his annoyance melted away like chocolate left beside a candle. "What is it you want, Marley?"
"You said I only wanted you for your money. You practically accused me of being a cold-hearted little gold digger."
Kit ran his hands through his hair, exasperated. "For Christ's sake, are you seriously telling me you've come here for another argument? I can't do this anymore, Marley. Enough already."
"Oh, no, you don't." She pushed open the sitting room door and stormed in, not even seeming to notice the boxes that were strewn all over the place, as she plonked herself down on the chair and glared up at him. "You don't get to say all those things about me, and ignore the stuff you inflicted on me. The way you let me down."
"Let you down?" Kit's anger bubbled over, and he dropped down opposite her, his hands clasped tightly together as he leaned forward. "How the hell did I let you down? All I wanted was to take a year out of uni and go abroad, see a bit of the world. What was wrong with that?"
"But you didn't even discuss it with me first! You never even mentioned it. I thought you were going to do your degree, then work in the factory. I thought we had a future together."
"Oh, I know you did," he said bitterly. "Put me in a suit and tie, sit me behind a desk, and reap the rewards. Never mind what I wanted, as long as Marley got what she wanted."
"And what exactly did you think I wanted, as if I didn't know!"
"You wanted what you've always wanted—money! You wanted designer clothes, and a flash car, and the big house. Oh, you could quite see yourself sitting here in Fell House, couldn't you? It wasn't me you cared about, at all."
He felt a pang of guilt when tears spilled down her cheeks. How the hell did she manage to rile him up so much one minute, then make him want to take her in his arms and protect her the next? That was some gift she possessed.
"Don't cry," he said gruffly.
"How could you say that?" she said, her voice sounding hoarse and strange. "I loved you so much. And yes, I did visualise living in this house, but only because it was your home. I wanted to be with you, more than anything. I wanted a future with you."
"I wanted a future with you, too," he admitted brokenly. "But you couldn't even wait a year. You couldn't support me in the one thing I asked."
"You should have told me," she sobbed. "I had to find out from one of my mum's workmates. How do you think that felt? I didn't matter to you. If you'd really cared about me, if you'd really thought about building a future with me, you'd have discussed it with me first. Told me how you felt. You just presented it as a done deal and expected me to be happy about it."
Kit bit his lip. She had a point. "I'm sorry. I was eighteen—just a stupid, selfish kid. I got something in my head, and that was that. I was so busy trying to get one over on my father that I never even thought to discuss it with you. I just assumed you'd go along with whatever I wanted. I'm truly sorry, Marley."
She pulled a tissue from her coat pocket and wiped the tears away. "I loved you so much. You broke my heart when you left, and you broke my heart again when you accused me of only being with you for the money."
Kit had no idea how to explain things to her. The way she was reacting, he may just make things worse. Then again, could they be any worse?
He took a deep breath. "I suppose, if I'm honest, I always thought, deep down, that I wasn't good enough for you, so it was very easy to imagine that money was your main incentive for being with me."
Marley shook her head. "Don't be stupid. Why would someone like you think he wasn't good enough for someone like me?"
"Because, when you've spent your entire life being told by someone who's supposed to know everything, someone whose opinion you're supposed to value and respect, that you're a waste of space and will never make anything of yourself, it kind of stays with you. Even if your conscious mind argues that he's talking rubbish and insists you're worthy, your subconscious clings to those little seeds of doubt that he's planted. My father never thought I was good enough to run Carroll's. He thought I was too soft. He hated the fact that I liked reading, and that I'd rather be curled up with a book than outside playing rugby. He used to get so angry when charity appeals on the television upset me. Said I was pathetic. Wanted me to man up." He sighed. "You know, thinking about it now, I wonder if he had an inkling about his father and, in his prehistoric way, was trying to make sure I didn't turn out the same way. If my father knew Grandfather was gay, my God! It would have been the worst thing he could imagine. Maybe that's why he was so tough on me. Who knows? The point is, he destroyed my self-confidence. I thought I was worthless. How could someone as beautiful and smart and funny as you possibly be interested in me? Much as I wanted it to be true, I suppose, deep down, the doubt persisted that it was the name and the fortune you wanted."
"But all that time we were dating, surely you realised that I loved you? I thought we had something really special!"
"We did." He sat forward, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "For the two and a half years we were together, I swear to you that, most of the time, I believed in you. In us. It was just now and then .... Little things you'd say. But when you refused to come with me to Africa, it all came flooding back. I couldn't believe you wanted me to do what he wanted. It felt like the ultimate betrayal."
"That's how I felt," she admitted. "Like you'd totally betrayed me and everything we meant to each other."
"But it was only for a year, Marley," he pleaded. "Why was that too much to ask?"
She chewed her lip, staring at the boxes on the floor, but clearly not registering them. "Because," she said at last, "I was scared. It felt like you were abandoning me, and I was terrified you wouldn't come back, like ..."
"Like your father?" Kit looked up to the ceiling, shaking his head softly. It all made sense, really. But at eighteen, he would never have been able to work it out, even if he'd known how deeply her father's leaving had affected her, and he hadn't known, because she'd hardly mentioned it. "But if you were afraid of that, why didn't you come with me? I wanted you to. I begged you to. We could have had such a wonderful experience together."
"I couldn't." Her voice was small, but determined.
Kit felt a coldness come over him again. "Because you couldn't bear to rough it in a tent in a jungle. Wasn't that how you described it? You say you just wanted to be with me, but not enough to give up the luxuries of home, right?"
"I couldn't go with you, Kit," she said, and there was a thread of steel in her tone as she tilted her chin towards him defiantly.
"Because you're a princess who couldn't give up her comforts to be with me."
"No, Kit," she said finally. "Because I was pregnant."
The world seemed to swing on its axis. Kit's heart thudded. "What did you say?"
Marley wiped the last of her tears away and sat up straight, suddenly calmer. "I couldn't go with you because I was pregnant. I'd only found out for definite a couple of days before you dropped your little bombshell. The signs had been there for weeks, but I kept ignoring them, pretending it couldn't be true. I was almost three months pregnant when you left. So, you see, how could I possibly go to Africa with you and live in a tent for a year? It was never an option."
Kit stood and began to pace, dodging boxes as he went. His mind a whirlwind of confusion. "But—but why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to. Then I heard that you were leaving, and I panicked. I wanted you to stay, but I wanted you to stay for the only reason that mattered—because you wanted to be with me. When you started hurling abuse at me, calling me spoilt and selfish and greedy, I just couldn't bring myself to tell you. I thought, if that's what you really think of me, how can I tell you that I'm having your baby? You would accuse me of getting pregnant on purpose, of trying to trap you. I couldn't bear you to think that. I heard my father throw that at my mother so many times. I didn't want to hear you say it. When you walked away, I really thought, deep down, that you wouldn't go through with it. That you'd think again, and tell me it was a horrible mistake, and you wanted to stay with me. But you didn't."
"Oh, Marley. I'm so sorry." Kit crouched down before her and took her hands. "But the baby? What happened to the baby? Did you—"
"I lost it." Her voice broke again and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "I'd just had my first scan and everything seemed okay. I was trying to pluck up the courage to tell Mum, and then—" She shook her head, dabbing furiously at her wet face. "I told her I'd stayed at my friend's house, but I was in hospital. I lost a lot of blood, you see. It was a nightmare."
Kit buried his head in her hands, unable to bear looking at the pain in her face any longer. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
She freed one hand from his grasp and tentatively stroked his hair. "It's all right. I know."
He couldn't suppress his sob. "If I'd known, I would never have left. You have to believe me."
"I know that, too," she said. "But it wouldn't have worked, would it? I'd have always wondered if you resented staying. It would have hung between us, destroyed us."
"I wouldn't have resented you." He looked up at her finally, anguish tearing at his insides. "I would never have resented you, or our baby. I loved you. I spent the entire year I was away missing you and pining for you. Seffy was my confidante. She listened to me when I wanted to talk about you, and she didn't make fun of me when I cried. She was a really good friend, but that's all she ever was. There was never anyone but you, Marley."
"I thought you'd have forgotten all about me," she admitted.
"Never. I wanted to look for you when I got home and started uni. I was trying to pluck up the courage to call you, but then I saw you dancing with some bloke in a club in Whitby, and I realised you'd moved on. I knew I had to let you go, somehow."
She frowned. "What bloke? I never really dated anyone after you left." Her expression changed, and she said, "Oh! There was someone who David knew. He did take me out a couple of times around Christmas." She shook her head. "It was nothing. I wish you'd come over to talk to me."
"I would have done, but you looked so dreamy. I thought you must’ve been mad about him."
She gently cupped his face. "It was Christmas. It would have been our baby's first birthday. I was grieving."
They stared at each other, then his arms went around her, and they clung to each other, crying for their lost child, the wasted years, the pain they'd inflicted upon each other without ever meaning to.
***
Much later, Kit handed her a mug of coffee and sat down beside her on the sofa she'd moved to. She was looking around her, quite bewildered, as if she'd only just noticed the chaos in which she was sitting.
"What's going on? What's with all the boxes?" He noted a hint of panic in her voice. "Are you leaving again?"
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Only out of this house, not the area. I'm staying on permanently at the factory. Jack and I are going to be partners and work together."
"That's brilliant. I'm so pleased for you both. How is Tim?"
"He's doing well, really well. It's looking hopeful."
She nodded. "I understand now, about the Nativity, I mean. Why you couldn't face it. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time. It must have been awful being surrounded by all those little children, when your own nephew was going through so much."
"It was," he admitted. "I really tried to hold it together, but—" He broke off as a memory stirred in the recesses of his mind. "Oh, God," he murmured.
"What is it?"
"The Nativity! I've just realised. I thought it was weird at the time, but it never occurred to me .... You got all upset and emotional about the class of eleven-year-olds. Our baby—he'd be eleven now, wouldn't he?"
She nodded. "Yes. It's pretty tough to think about. Can't imagine me being a mum to an eleven-year-old, can you?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "I can."
She sipped her coffee, looking a bit flustered.
"Does Olivia know? Your mum?"
"No one," she confessed. "I didn't want them to know. I guess it's kind of like Jack, not wanting anyone to know about Tim. I wanted to go back to normal, pretend it never happened. I couldn't deal with the sympathy and the tears. It would have just about finished me off."
"But it must have been hard, especially when Olivia started having children."
"It was, but I focused on other things, instead." She sighed. "I think that's when Fox Lodge started to become an obsession. I wanted my own home, and I wanted it to be beautiful. Olivia had the whole motherhood thing nailed. I had to be something else, find something else to fill the emptiness. Sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"
"Not at all. I understand now."
"And all the insecurities you talked about, when you were a kid. I had them, too. After Dad left, everything felt so precarious. Mum was a bag of nerves and fell to pieces, and Olivia was completely overwhelmed with it all. It was a real struggle to keep the house, and money was so tight. I never knew what I would walk into when I got home from school, whether Mum would be having one of her good days, or would be in bed, sobbing her heart out. I opened the bills, so I knew what was going on. I knew we were behind with the rent. I had to be really tough on her in the end, which made me hate myself. I think I just pictured Fox Lodge as the antidote to such an insecure childhood. I thought, owning that big house, filling it with pretty things, would make everything go away. I'd have my future all neatly contained within those four walls, and no one would be able to hurt me ever again." She gave a short laugh. "I know I sound like a crazy person."
"You don't, Marley. Really, you don't."
She smiled at him, and his insides fizzed with love and joy. "So, what's with the boxes and the house move? Is Jack staying on?"
"In a manner of speaking." He quickly explained about Seffy's purpose for being at Fell House, and how his brother was guaranteed an apartment there.
"But why are you selling?" she said curiously. "It's been in your family for years. Seems a shame."
He hesitated. Maybe there'd been enough revelations for one day. On the other hand, wasn't right then the ideal time to tell her the truth? A day for getting everything out in the open?
He put down his coffee cup and turned to her, feeling a knot of anxiety in his stomach. "There's something I have to tell you, Marley. You're not going to like it."
And out it poured—the whole, unpalatable truth about Carroll's Confectionary. Marley listened, her face composed, not interrupting once, as he told her the sorry state of affairs.
When he'd finished, he watched her carefully.
She sipped her coffee, then said, "You should have told me. I could have helped. At least supported you." When he didn't reply, she burst out, "I thought you were just mean! I thought you didn't care about the factory staff, and all the time you were trying to protect them. You would rather they thought the worst of you than worry about their jobs over Christmas. God, Kit."
"The point is, they're going to find out. The truth about Halliwell & Stephenson's will hit the news very soon. They'll soon realise that LuvRocks is bankrupt, and then the questions will start. Did they owe us money? Is that why I stopped production? What sort of financial state has that left us in? They'll start to worry about what's going to replace it. When they thought I'd chosen to drop LuvRocks, they probably assumed I had a Plan B. When they know it was forced upon me, they'll think the worst, and they'll be right."
"All those people," she murmured. "All those jobs. We have to get the Rochester contract."
"Even if we do, it won't be enough to sustain us."
"But it will give us some breathing space, and it will be a start!" She shook her head. "I can't believe you've carried this all alone."
"It's nothing compared with what you've carried alone," he said gently.
She hugged herself, biting her lip as she looked away from him.
He watched her for a moment, then said, "Where does this leave us, Marley?"
She looked back at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
She must’ve known what he meant, surely? He wanted to ask her if it made a difference, if losing the factory would change how she felt about him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Would you like to pop over on Christmas Day for a drink, or something? I mean, I know you're probably having dinner at your mum's."
She stood up, and he realised she was shaking. "Actually, I won't be here. I'm going to London. I'm staying in a hotel, having Christmas dinner there."
He frowned. "Alone?"
She nodded. "Yes. I—I just fancied doing something different. I've never been to London. Never really been anywhere. It will be an adventure."
Her voice trailed off, and he wondered what she was thinking. Clearly, he didn't figure in her plans at all. He shrugged. "That's great. I hope you have a fabulous time."
"I'll be back just before New Year," she assured him. "I'll get back to work, and we'll try to figure out a plan of action for Carroll's." She watched him, eyes wide. "If—if the worst comes to the worst, if the factory does fail, what will you do? Head back to Peru, or wherever?"
"No," he said firmly. "My place is here, whatever happens. Besides, I'm not throwing in the towel just yet."
She chewed her lip, her mind clearly working overtime. What was she thinking? She looked pale, he thought. Something was clearly bothering her.
"I must go," she said suddenly.
"Sure." He nodded, trying to sound enthusiastic. "I'll see you, then." He showed her to the front door, and she pulled up her hood, ready to brave the freezing cold outside once more. "Well, I guess this is it."
"I guess it is. Merry Christmas, Kit."
He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his heart thudding. "Merry Christmas, Marley."
Then she was walking down the steps and towards her car, faster than was likely wise on the slippery ground.
Kit closed the door behind her, unable to bear watching her any longer. Wondering what the hell had just gone wrong between them, he tried desperately not to believe the worst. Had his fears come true? Was she having second thoughts, with knowing the truth about the factory?
But then he recalled the look of fear in her eyes when she'd noticed the boxes, the note of panic in her voice when she thought he might leave again if the factory failed.
The truth was, he realised, it was time that he stopped believing the worst of her. She was clearly still struggling to trust him, and what she needed, more than anything, was to believe in him, to have faith that he wouldn't walk away from her ever again.
How would he ever make her understand that he’d never abandon her, though? Just what would it take to prove to her that he had never stopped loving her, and he never would?