Page 82 of A Sky Painted Gold

Your loving friend,

Caitlin.

P.S. I know how much you loved Robert’s sketches. He left this lying around and I couldn’t resist stealing it. I think it’s time it found its way to you.

I am filled with an enormous sense of relief. I am so happy for Caitlin, happy that she finally has what she wants. And I’m grateful to her for writing, for valuing a friendship that has become so important to me and for the real affection that lies behind every word. Of course I will write back to her. I will do it soon, and I will tell her about my London plans and the way I am striking out on my own. I know that she will enjoy that.

The information about Robert is harder to digest. Two weeks. His engagement ended two weeks ago. Whatever Caitlin might say to the contrary, any part of me that thought he felt the same way I did dies then. Before, I could have believed it was his engagement to Laurie that was keeping us apart, but now that is ended and he still hasn’t come for me. I was wrong. It feels like dropping from a great height, the rush of blood in my ears, the furious blurring of the world around me.

Alongside the letter the parcel contains a small black notebook. I open it and freeze.

Inside are dozens of sketches drawn with a deft hand and crackling with life. They are scenes from Lady Amelia’s Revenge. Some of the sketches have dates beside them, and I realize that the first one goes all the way back to when Robert and I first met. As the weeks go by, the sketches become more detailed, more definite. The heroine looks, I think, an awful lot like me. When I get to Lord Marvell I can’t help but laugh. There is Robert at his most smirking. He has drawn himself half in shadow, but I can still tell it is him. I pore over every drawing, committing each one to memory, tracing my fingers over the bold, black lines. There is so much time and effort in these pages, so much life and humour. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen, and my heart aches for the man who made it.

I sit and stare at the drawings for a long time. Alice will have gone home by now, I know. I will go round in the morning and tell her what has happened. She’ll be with Jack, and I don’t want to disturb them. I heave myself to my feet and carry on half-heartedly with my packing, until the room is in slightly better order. I want to keep moving, to keep busy so that I don’t have too much time to think about what Caitlin has written. It is early evening by the time I am done, and my limbs are tired from lugging things back and forth and up and down all the stairs. With a sigh, I kneel on my bed, pushing the window open and sticking my head out into the cooler air. The temperature has dropped in the last couple of weeks. Summer really is at an end.

I decide to take a walk and clear my head, so I stick my feet in some battered plimsolls and pull on a scruffy cardigan – one of Midge’s terrible creations that hasn’t made it into a box. The breeze coming off the sea has a definite chill to it, and I pull the cardigan more tightly around me. I pretend to myself that I don’t know where I am walking to, but I absolutely do. The tide is out, and I pick my way across the cobbled causeway towards the house, which I know now is sleeping once more.

I head for the orchard. The first of the apples will be perfectly ripe, and I help myself to the reddest, rosiest one I can find. I go around to the back lawn next, and over to the oak tree. I place my hand against the bark, closing my eyes and remembering that kiss, but also the first time I saw Robert. How he looked at me, how he dared me to stay and drink champagne. How that moment changed everything.

A deep rumble splits the air, and before I know it the heavens have opened and it is pouring with rain. I run over to the house, to the window with the broken latch. Somehow, I discover with relief, they have fixed everything else, but not this. I slip inside, shaking the rain from myself like a dog. I peel off the soggy cardigan and set about lighting a fire. The furniture is all under dust sheets again, and everything is back as it was when the house was mine alone.

But not quite. Now, I can see Laurie slinking through the door, I can see Caitlin draped over a sofa, I can see Robert at the bar, accusing me of cheating at cards. I think about the girl I was before and the girl I am now. Whatever else has happened, my life has been changed completely this summer. I have made something happen for myself, and perhaps I no longer quite belong in this house of shadows. I shiver, fumbling with the matches. Finally, the fire is burning and I begin to dry my hair, feeling the warmth spread through my frozen bones.

I am sitting in front of the fire eating my apple when I hear a loud bang. I freeze. Footsteps clip along the floor, the sound ringing through the air towards me.

I leap to my feet and move to grab my cardigan, ready to make my escape, but this time I am too slow and I have hardly moved at all when the door bursts open. There, standing right in front of me, is Robert. He is wearing an overcoat, and he is soaking wet. I watch, hypnotized, as drops of water fall from his dark hair and on to the floor.

The apple drops from my hand with a dull thud, and it rolls over to his feet, gently kissing his right shoe. He bends and picks it up, looking at it with great interest.

“What – what are you doing here?” I choke. It feels as though I’ve wished him into being. I can’t believe he’s truly standing in front of me. It must be a dream, some ghostly apparition that the house is teasing me with.

He smiles, a smile that goes right through me, and I see bright lights exploding in front of my eyes. I almost stumble forward, but just about remain upright. He’s here. He’s really here.

“What am I doing here?” he says casually, taking off his coat in neat, efficient movements and hanging it over the back of one of the dust-sheet-covered objects. He moves closer to the fire, closer to me. My heart is thundering in my chest. “It’s my house,” he says. “I think the question is, what are you doing here?”

I don’t say anything, can’t say anything. All words are gone. There’s something in his eyes that’s too good to be true; I can’t let myself believe it yet. I just watch as he holds the apple out towards me. “This time, little thief, there’s no getting out of it. I’ve caught you red-handed.”

I look at him, and now I really do start to believe it. I feel a smile spreading across my face, a huge, unstoppable smile that makes me feel lit up like a Christmas tree. Trying hard to look serious, I reach out and take the apple from him, glancing down at it. “Surely you wouldn’t begrudge a girl shelter from the storm,” I say slowly.

He raises an eyebrow; his eyes are glittering. “I suppose not,” he replies.

“Of course not,” I say. “That would be completely heartless.”

“Mmm,” Robert agrees, “which I most certainly am not.”

“Maybe not,” I say, tilting my head to the side. “And what about a little sustenance? Would you deny a girl that? To keep her going?” I look up at him.

He laughs. “No, not that either.”

“So I wasn’t really doing anything wrong when I…” I begin, and then I can’t say anything else because he has pulled me into his arms and he is kissing me as if he can’t stop himself. Not that I want him to. I melt into him, the taste of him, the feel of his lips against my skin. It is all I have been able to think about for these last four weeks and here it is, finally happening. Kissing Robert Cardew is as good as I remember … better, even, because this time there are no misunderstandings, no secrets between us. When we eventually break apart, I look up into his eyes and see so much there that my heart feels as though it might burst.

“Robert,” I say finally. “What are you doing here?”

“Having a very nice time,” he murmurs, kissing my neck in a way that turns my knees to water.

“Robert!” I gasp, and he grins, kissing my nose, but I am not to be distracted. I need to understand why he is here to be able to believe it all.

“Fine,” he says. “Sit here with me and I’ll tell you the whole story.” He sits on the floor in front of the fire and pulls me down next to him, his arm around my waist.