Folly's Child (61 page)

There was just the smallest hesitation though it seemed to him like a very long time. Then: ‘When shall I see you?' she asked.

He thought furiously, cursing himself for not having it all worked out.

‘Can I buy you lunch?'

‘Yes, all right. I'm going down to my father's showroom to take some pictures. I'll meet you underneath the statue of the Garment Worker at twelve forty-five.'

‘I'll be there.'

‘Only Tom,' she said. ‘No more questions – right?'

‘Not a single one.'

Liar, he thought, even as he said it. There is one very big question you intend to ask her. But not today – not today.

As he replaced the receiver Tom O'Neill, confirmed agnostic, sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

He'd wanted one more chance and he had it. So far so good. But tread carefully. Tread very carefully. Blow this and you'll never get another.'

She saw him the moment she emerged from the doorway, standing there at the foot of the plinth, the collar of his coat turned up against the biting wind, and her heart missed a beat.

Foolish, foolish Harriet! Ready to put yourself on the line to be hurt again … for what? But just looking at him, bulky in his dark overcoat, his face as craggy as if it had been carved out of the same stone as the statue, she knew the reason.

‘Hi,' she said.

He turned and in spite of everything it was still there, that crazy powerful chemistry they had experienced in the outback. This might be New York, with bustling crowds and hooting taxis, the skies heavy lowering grey, the wind making them shiver, but it made no difference.

‘I'm sorry if I hurt you,' he said. ‘I had a job to do.'

Not the most exciting words, but they scarcely mattered.

‘I expect I was a bit touchy,' she said.

‘But that's all over now. If I ask you to meet me you'll know it's because I want to see
you
, not probe into your past. Harriet, I know this sounds exceptionally corny, but could we begin all over again?'

‘No,' she said.

His eyes narrowed. ‘No? But I thought …'

Her mouth curved. ‘I don't want to begin again because there are some things I'd hate to erase. Really, Tom, I'd rather say ‘‘let's continue where we left off''.'

He nodded, smiling. ‘I'll settle for that.'

‘So, where are we going for lunch?'

‘Do you know, I haven't given it a thought I was so sure you wouldn't turn up.'

‘Why should you have thought that?'

‘Because,' he said truthfully, ‘it mattered so damned much to me that you should. So, where do you suggest for lunch? You are the one who knows New York.'

‘I suggest somewhere very quiet where we can have that talk.'

‘I second that.'

In the end it had been so very easy, so very right. If none of this dreadful business had happened she would never have met Tom, she thought suddenly. It was an almost insupportable thought.

She smiled up at him and put her hand on his arm. In a city of eight million people there was an intimacy in the touch that tore down the last barriers.

‘I know the very place,' she said. ‘ Shall we go?'

Together they walked along Fashion Avenue and the tall shadow of The Garment Worker seemed to follow them.

First published in 1991 by Century

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Copyright © Janet Tanner, 1991

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