Frank glanced up at her but she was staring at the piece of paper, the top of her pen resting against her mouth, resolutely not meeting his eyes. She was the picture of professional efficiency and he had no cause to complain. Yet every cell in his body wanted something else from her. He’d tried to make himself think it wasn’t true, that he might have had a future with Sylvia. But now he knew Sylvia had been right: he had placed a barrier in the way of their relationship, and he realised he finally understood why. He was destined to long for Kitty, no matter what happened. It was her or nobody for him. Sighing, he forced himself to concentrate on the business in hand, the long list of dry points that they would labour through tomorrow, all without the comforting knowledge that she would be waiting for him after the meeting, to laugh about it together, to take the edge off the inevitable disagreements, and to add her spark of humour to the whole affair.

Kitty kept her gaze on the agenda, trying to put her heart into the work, knowing it was vital to her colleagues that she did the best she could. However, her thoughts kept slipping to Frank, so close she could brush his knees with her own if she sat forward, and yet so far away in every other respect. She must not on any account let him guess how humiliated she had felt when she realised she wasn’t his first choice. She had to show him he was wrong, that she was at the top of her game. She was upset and angry he’d thought otherwise. She would prove to him that she was more than capable of taking part in this big meeting. She gripped her pen with determination and ticked off the points as they made their way through them. Whatever happened, she would not reveal her deep hurt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘For God’s sake, stop fussing.’ Alfie pushed his mother aside as he reached for his coat. Even though it was now March, the weather was still cold and, as he’d barely set foot outside his own front door for what felt like a lifetime, he knew he’d be grateful for its warmth. However, his mother was standing by holding a scarf and thick gloves, anxiously pressing them on him.

‘You’ll catch your death,’ she warned. ‘You don’t want to rush into things. What do you need to go outside for, anyway? I can bring you everything you need right here. Why don’t you stop inside and build up your strength?’