‘For someone so pragmatic, so capable of dealing with the horrors of life – and death – in my job, I have a streak of romanticism in me a mile wide. I want to look into my man’s eyes and see not one glimmer of opacity. I want to be able to look straight into his heart, without a trace of a shadow between us.’

‘I know. I get that.’ And he did. He wasn’t going to make excuses. He should either have told her everything, or explained that there was one secret in his life that was so big he couldn’t share it, that it was nothing to do with her and wouldn’t in any way impact on their relationship. Instead, he had allowed her to comfort him about the death of his brother, to speak words of reassurance, saying that although it would always hurt, it would become easier to deal with.

‘The thing is, over the last day or so I’ve been thinking about the eyes I want to gaze into. And I realise that no matter what’s happened – and honestly, I understand why you made the decisions you did – the eyes I want to see each morning when I open my own are yours.’

Tom was still for a moment. Louisa was smiling.

‘This is where I want to be, Tom. With you. If you’ll have me, my bags are in the car.’

He felt a stab of sheer joy. But she hadn’t finished.

‘I’m not apologising for walking out on you the other night, because I was being true to myself.’ Louisa held her hand up, the palm open towards Tom. ‘And I don’t want you to apologise either. You were doing what you believed to be right.’

‘Thank you.’

She leaned towards him. He lifted his arm and slipped it around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

‘Just don’t do it again,’ she whispered into his ear.

Tom laughed and bent his head to kiss her gently. ‘I won’t.’

CHAPTER 70

70

I can’t believe the pleasure I feel at waking up in my own bed. I stretch out, then curl up. Pull the duvet up, wrap it around my body. It feels like heaven, and I start to believe that I will recover from the nightmare of the past few weeks. I have slept for twelve hours. It was midnight when the police dropped me off, and now I can see from the bedside clock that it is nearly noon.

All I remember is stumbling through the front door, kicking it closed behind me and crawling on hands and knees up the stairs, too tired to even walk. I stripped off my clothes and got into bed, filthy but too exhausted to do anything about it. I need a shower, but first I have to have some coffee.