‘Some things have to be said. But at the right time. For us the time will never be right.’
He took hold of her. ‘We can make it right,’ he said desperately, ‘if you’ll only come home with me.’
‘I can’t, it’s too late,’ she cried in anguish. ‘If you knew how much I wanted it to be my home, but you wouldn’t let me inside-not where it really matters.’
He groaned. ‘I know it’s my fault, but things have changed-’
‘Yes, things-not you. “Let invaders tremble.” You do make me tremble because I know I have to watch for the boiling oil.’ She touched his face. ‘It’ll always be there, in the back of my mind, if not yours. I’ll never be anything but an invader.’
‘I came to ask you for another chance,’ he said sombrely. ‘But how can I ask for your love? I haven’t done much to deserve it, have I?’
‘Jarvis, you don’t deserve love, or earn it. It just happens, and you have to learn how to take it.’
‘Come home and teach me,’ he pleaded.
She shook her head. ‘Once I thought I could, but that was in my arrogant days when I thought I could do anything, just because I was Meryl Winters. But you showed me that the money was all I had, and it wasn’t enough. Let’s do what you said, and leave it there. We were never meant to be.’
He had no way to persuade her. If she couldn’t find the words, how could he? He could only stand in silence as she slipped off his mother’s ring and handed it to him. After that there was nothing to do but leave.
For anything except designing Benedict was a disorganised man, and it took the combined efforts of his staff, his wife and Meryl to have everything ready for the departure to Paris a week later. Meryl was glad. It saved having to think.
They reached the airport in more than good time for the Paris flight. Meryl was surprised that Benedict and Amanda had insisted on setting out a clear hour before they needed to, but she went along with it. What did anything matter?
But when they’d stood in the check-in line for a few moments she suddenly said, ‘This is the wrong line. It’s not for Paris.’
‘This is the right line,’ Amanda insisted. ‘Your flight is leaving in an hour. Not Paris. Manchester, England. Nine p.m. Here’s your ticket.’
‘No-listen you two-I know you mean well, but-’
‘Meryl, shut up,’ Benedict said firmly. ‘This is pay-back time. What you did for us, we’re doing for you.’
‘But Jarvis and I can’t-’
‘Cut that. For the last week Amanda and I have listened to you talking nonsense about how you and Jarvis can’t live together, and enough is enough. You say he didn’t know how to take your love. Then teach him, you stupid woman. Even if it takes years. That’s your job so get stuck in and do it. All right, Jarvis isn’t very clever about feelings, but just now you’re not being very clever either.
‘He reached out to you. He was asking you to show him the way and understand the things he didn’t know how to say. And you bottled out! I used to think you had guts, Meryl, but you gave up when the going got tough. Fat lot of use to him you were!’
Her jaw dropped. She was speechless.
‘Everything in your life has come giftwrapped,’ Benedict added. ‘Well, this isn’t going to. You’ve worked hard so far, but that ain’t nothin’ to the hard work you’re going to have to put in on your marriage from now on. I know he’s not an easy man, but he put his pride aside for you. Now it’s your turn.
‘You’ll make it, as long as you don’t chicken out again.’
They’d reached the head of the line. Amanda plucked the ticket and passport from Meryl’s nerveless fingers and handed them over. A minute later they were escorting her to the boarding gate.
‘We’re going to stay here to make sure you don’t come out this way again,’ Amanda said.
‘There’s no need,’ Meryl said, her eyes shining. ‘Thank you, both of you, with all my heart.’
Everything now felt wonderfully familiar, including the dreadful weather that greeted her. With nothing but hand luggage Meryl got out of the airport fast and hailed a cab. It took three hours to make the drive, with rain lashing them all the way.
‘How are you going to get across?’ the driver asked as they neared Larne. ‘The water’s too high for me to drive over the causeway.’
‘Someone will take me in a boat,’ she said happily.
‘If you can get one. I think they’re all out looking for that bloke who’s missing.’
‘Who?’ she asked sharply.
‘Dunno. Some lord or other. Went out sailing last night and never came back.’
‘Dear God!’ she wept. ‘Jarvis.’
She pulled out her mobile and dialled Ferdy’s number. He answered in a curt voice that revealed his tension.
‘Ferdy what’s happened? Is it Jarvis?’
‘I’m afraid so. Everyone is looking for him. I’ve been out in my boat, but it’s too small for this job. I’ve hired a big motor boat.’
‘I’m coming, too,’ Meryl cried at once.
‘I’ll be by the causeway.’
He was there waiting for her, with a large white boat, built for strength and speed. He handed Meryl in quickly, and they were away.
She forced herself to speak calmly, although she felt like screaming. ‘Tell me everything.’
‘Jarvis has been spending a lot of time on his own recently. Riding or sailing that little yacht of his. He’s a good sailor, but this morning he went out early and a storm blew up. The coast guard was alerted and there’s been a fleet out looking for him.’
‘But after all this time-’ she almost screamed.
‘People have been found safe and well after much longer than this,’ he said, trying to sound confident.
‘But he must have been in the water for hours already, and it’s cold,’ she said in horror.
Ferdy didn’t answer. There was nothing he could say. He scanned the grey sea ahead as far as the horizon, but he could see with dread that the light was already failing.
They said when you went down for the third time you were finished, but Jarvis had gone down too often to count and still clawed his way gasping to the surface. He knew it was useless to fight. There was nothing but the stormy sea around him, and no help to be found anywhere.
It was his own fault. He’d been careless, functioning on automatic, manning the boat in body but not in spirit. His spirit had been wandering somewhere, seeking her, but she was never there. She’d vanished, as she’d always been bound to; he knew that now. And while he’d been following her in his heart his attention had wandered and he’d been surprised by the sudden sharp wind that cap-sized him.
He’d gone down deep, deep, but he’d fought his way back to the surface and managed to seize hold of the boat. Yet nothing he could do would right it, and he’d been forced to cling on, looking all about him, hoping to see another boat. There was nothing as far as the horizon, in any direction. By now it was raining hard, the wind was rising, and as the hours wore on he felt himself being swept further out to sea, and his hope faded.
The cold got to him, numbing him, making him dangerously sleepy. That was how he lost his grip on the boat. He made a wild grab but it was already a few inches away, then a few feet, and it was too late. He was on his own, the darkness gathering around him, and he was sinking again, using his fast failing strength to claw his way back up.
He knew that if he wasn’t found soon he wouldn’t survive the night. Every moment weakened him. Every descent felt like the last. The water roared in his ears, and when he came up again the storm blasted him. And now he knew he was hallucinating because the howl of the gale seemed to be forming his name.
‘Jarvis! Jarvis!’
The call came again and again. It was in his ears as he slipped beneath the waves for what he was sure was the last time. It reached him even under the water and made him fight his way up again, gasping and heaving. And now to the hallucination of sound was joined the hallucination of sight. For what else, but an illusion could be the woman appearing out of the storm, crying his name in terror?