Thicker Than Water Read Free

engagement or not, there was no way she could give him up.
    On the second night, he had asked her to marry him.
    And the irony, she thought now, was that she’d not intended to stay in the hotel. Living in London, she could have attended daily, but the course organizer had persuaded her otherwise, pointing out that she’d meld better with the group than if she returned home each evening. Incredible to think that if she hadn’t acquiesced, the odds were that she’d never have met James.
    She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. A quarter to three. They’d agreed she should postpone her arrival until the afternoon, giving him time to break the news to his fiancée. Abigail felt a passing wave of sympathy for the girl, whoever she was. James had said little about her, and she’d not asked, thankful that at least they weren’t living together.
    The road stretched ahead of her, with little to hold her interest, and her thoughts began to wander. It was a blessing, she reflected, that, working from home, she could do so as easily in Inchampton as in Pimlico. James had told her that though his flat wasn’t large, the loft had been converted at some stage, and while he used it only for storage, it could easily be made into a comfortable work room, the additional windows offering plenty of light. The possibility of moving to somewhere larger didn’t appear to be an option.
    The CD ended and she inserted another, though she must be nearly there. Excitement began to build in her, anticipation at seeing James, and the prospect of their being alone together for twenty-four hours. Her turn-off was signalled, and as she left the motorway, she fumbled for the directions he’d given her and spread them out on the steering wheel. Then, as instructed, she switched on her hands-free mobile.
    He picked up immediately. ‘Abigail?’
    ‘Hi. Just to let you know I’ve left the motorway.’
    ‘Great. You should be here in fifteen minutes. Pull into the pub car park I told you about – the White Bull. I’ll meet you there.’
    Abigail followed the signs along quieter, narrower roads, lined by farms and cottages built of the local honey-coloured stone, with fields stretching on either side where cows and sheep grazed. She’d known Inchampton was a market town, but she’d not expected its surroundings to be quite so bucolic. A culture shock indeed, after the frenetic life she was used to.
    And here, on her right, was the White Bull public house. She turned into the gateway, following directions to the car park behind the building. And there, leaning against the wall, James awaited her. She switched off the engine, and as their eyes met through the windscreen, was aware of a sudden awkward shyness. Then he was opening the door, helping her out, and enfolding her in his arms.
    ‘I wasn’t entirely sure you’d come,’ he said against her hair.
    ‘Why was that?’
    ‘Once back home, it all seemed like a dream.’
    ‘I know; I felt the same.’ She searched his face. ‘You haven’t changed your mind?’
    ‘Do you have to ask?’
    ‘And your fiancée? How did she take it?’
    His face sobered. ‘I think stunned is the word, but I didn’t hang around. Still –’ he straightened his shoulders – ‘the job’s done, so let’s forget it. Now, I’ll get in the car with you, and show you where to leave it. There’s no parking on the square, but we have an access road behind, with parking bays. They’re supposed to be for delivery vehicles, but a blind eye is turned for residents.’
    ‘I’m not a resident – yet.’
    He leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘You soon will be.’
    Under his direction, she drove out of the pub car park and turned right to continue into town. It was more built-up now, houses, a filling station and a parade of shops lining the road. Then, ahead of her, it widened into a square, and just before they reached it, James indicated a turning to the right, and she obediently slipped into it. The access