you’d turn against them.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what he told me.’
Fury fills her and she jumps up. She doesn’t want sympathy, or understanding, or even love. She wants to wallow in her sense of betrayal, grope for its edges and boundaries so that she can begin to understand the extent of the damage.
‘I trusted you Archie.’ She starts to stride to the window, then turns abruptly and moves towards the door. ‘I put all my love and faith in you. How could you have concealed this from me?’
Archie spreads his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘He made me promise.’
‘And your promise to him meant more than your duty to me?’
‘I did what I thought was best.’
‘And you thought that leaving me in ignorance was best.’
He shrugs hopelessly. ‘If you didn’t know, it couldn’t hurt you.’
‘That’s so facile, Archie.’ She berates him bitterly for calling into play the cliché her mind has already processed. That isn’t fair, but fairness doesn’t seem to be a part of any of this.
‘It’s not been easy for me—’
But she doesn’t want to hear excuses.
Archie, watching Susie driving off, is struggling with the shock of her discovery. It had been a terrible secret to carry but he’d kept it, as her parents did, to protect her.
He walks slowly across to the studio, knowing that settling down to work is going to be difficult.
Anger begins to burn inside him. Susie is being judgemental – but what about her secret? The one she believes, quite mistakenly, that she managed to conceal from him?
He smashes his hands down on the piano in a jarring discord and Prince yelps.
Dammit!
He has an album to write, but the mood has gone.
Chapter Six
Energy flares off Mannie Wallace like sparks from a Catherine wheel on bonfire night. Restless, impatient, easily bored, she wore her parents out as a toddler and tested their ingenuity to its limits as she grew and demanded entertainment. Where her brother Jonno is introverted but thoughtful, her cleverness takes a different form. She has an unceasing curiosity married to an eagerness to ask questions. She burns to persuade the whole world to her own point of view.
These are all traits that are marketable and her career – quite naturally – took her into sales. Today, seeing Callum McMaster for the first time since his return from Courcheval, she’s happy to tell him of the successes she chalked up in the week he was away. She ticks them off on her fingers, one by one, her expressive hazel eyes brimming with vivacity.
‘Four weddings, Cal, six conferences – six – and three dinners, big corporate ones. Boss man he delighted.’
‘No funerals?’ Cal asks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he lifts his pint with anticipatory pleasure.
‘You can’t exactly put them in the forward diary,’ Mannie says, her tone lofty, before spotting the teasing glint in Cal’s eyes and shoving at him playfully. ‘Oh, shut up, idiot.’
Cal grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks fit but relaxed, serenity itself by contrast to Mannie’s ebullience. Where Mannie is dressed for business in a smart dark suit, pin thin heels and cream blouse – power dressing personified – he’s wearing jeans and trainers and a Scotland sweatshirt. ‘I’m just amazed you haven’t persuaded the entire Royal Scots to divert their march down Princes Street and stomp in for a pint on the way to the Tattoo.’
‘Now there’s an idea,’ Mannie laughs, tapping the side of her head thoughtfully. ‘Note to self, call Army in morning.’ She’s only half joking because she will consider all ideas for exceeding her targets. Her bonus depends on it and her bonus is an important element of her salary.
‘So it’s been a good week, has it?’
‘Didn’t I just say?’
‘Missed me, did you?’
His voice is teasing and she can’t quite gauge his seriousness. This troubles her, not because she doesn’t
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what he told me.’
Fury fills her and she jumps up. She doesn’t want sympathy, or understanding, or even love. She wants to wallow in her sense of betrayal, grope for its edges and boundaries so that she can begin to understand the extent of the damage.
‘I trusted you Archie.’ She starts to stride to the window, then turns abruptly and moves towards the door. ‘I put all my love and faith in you. How could you have concealed this from me?’
Archie spreads his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘He made me promise.’
‘And your promise to him meant more than your duty to me?’
‘I did what I thought was best.’
‘And you thought that leaving me in ignorance was best.’
He shrugs hopelessly. ‘If you didn’t know, it couldn’t hurt you.’
‘That’s so facile, Archie.’ She berates him bitterly for calling into play the cliché her mind has already processed. That isn’t fair, but fairness doesn’t seem to be a part of any of this.
‘It’s not been easy for me—’
But she doesn’t want to hear excuses.
Archie, watching Susie driving off, is struggling with the shock of her discovery. It had been a terrible secret to carry but he’d kept it, as her parents did, to protect her.
He walks slowly across to the studio, knowing that settling down to work is going to be difficult.
Anger begins to burn inside him. Susie is being judgemental – but what about her secret? The one she believes, quite mistakenly, that she managed to conceal from him?
He smashes his hands down on the piano in a jarring discord and Prince yelps.
Dammit!
He has an album to write, but the mood has gone.
Chapter Six
Energy flares off Mannie Wallace like sparks from a Catherine wheel on bonfire night. Restless, impatient, easily bored, she wore her parents out as a toddler and tested their ingenuity to its limits as she grew and demanded entertainment. Where her brother Jonno is introverted but thoughtful, her cleverness takes a different form. She has an unceasing curiosity married to an eagerness to ask questions. She burns to persuade the whole world to her own point of view.
These are all traits that are marketable and her career – quite naturally – took her into sales. Today, seeing Callum McMaster for the first time since his return from Courcheval, she’s happy to tell him of the successes she chalked up in the week he was away. She ticks them off on her fingers, one by one, her expressive hazel eyes brimming with vivacity.
‘Four weddings, Cal, six conferences – six – and three dinners, big corporate ones. Boss man he delighted.’
‘No funerals?’ Cal asks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he lifts his pint with anticipatory pleasure.
‘You can’t exactly put them in the forward diary,’ Mannie says, her tone lofty, before spotting the teasing glint in Cal’s eyes and shoving at him playfully. ‘Oh, shut up, idiot.’
Cal grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks fit but relaxed, serenity itself by contrast to Mannie’s ebullience. Where Mannie is dressed for business in a smart dark suit, pin thin heels and cream blouse – power dressing personified – he’s wearing jeans and trainers and a Scotland sweatshirt. ‘I’m just amazed you haven’t persuaded the entire Royal Scots to divert their march down Princes Street and stomp in for a pint on the way to the Tattoo.’
‘Now there’s an idea,’ Mannie laughs, tapping the side of her head thoughtfully. ‘Note to self, call Army in morning.’ She’s only half joking because she will consider all ideas for exceeding her targets. Her bonus depends on it and her bonus is an important element of her salary.
‘So it’s been a good week, has it?’
‘Didn’t I just say?’
‘Missed me, did you?’
His voice is teasing and she can’t quite gauge his seriousness. This troubles her, not because she doesn’t
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