A &E Affairs - Lynne Marshall Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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time Alison told her mother so.

      ‘You turned a blind eye with Paul.’

      ‘Paul was serious about you!’ came Rose’s savage reply.

      ‘So’s Nick. He’s not using me.’ Alison’s voice was rising, but she wasn’t just arguing with Rose, she was arguing with herself. ‘It’s not some fling…’

      ‘It’s exactly what it is,’ Rose responded. ‘What? Do you think he’s going to give it all up? You heard him tonight. He’s got a promotion. It couldn’t possibly work. And you’re sleeping with him.’ It was all too close to the bone for Alison and she sat there and tried to take it, but Rose would not stop. ‘You were always trouble, always the one we worried about, always wild, and yet it was poor…’ She stopped, but not in time. The words might just as well have been said—Alison had lived, Tim had died. It stung and it burnt and tears shot from her eyes, not just at her mother’s thoughts but what she had done to her brother’s memory.

      ‘Tim was fun, Tim knew how to laugh. You’ve canonised him, Mum, you’ve turned him into some sort of saint. No matter what I do, I can never live up to him.’

      ‘Alison…’ Rose maybe realised she had gone too far. ‘This isn’t about Tim, it’s about this man.’

      ‘This man,’ Alison said, ‘is called Nick, and he makes me laugh and he makes me happy. And…’ she threw the condoms on the floor ‘…you have no right to go through my things. I can’t wait to move out!’ In fact, she didn’t have to wait now. ‘I’m going.’

      ‘With him?’

      And Rose broke down then, just melted onto the chair. And Alison wanted to storm out, to go to bed, to curl up in a ball, but instead she sat with her arms around her mum, her own tears not helping her stinging cheek. Yes, it was a row that had needed to be had, but Alison knew what it was really all about.

      ‘I was talking about the flat. I’m not going to England, Mum.’ She stroked her mum’s shoulders. ‘He’s not going to ask, and if by some miracle he did, I wouldn’t go.’

      She wouldn’t.

      She couldn’t.

      She’d had it confirmed now.

      It wasn’t about Nick, it wasn’t about England. It could be Thailand, or a bungee jump, or a car, or a wave, and the row would have been the same. Even if cruel words had been spoken, she knew she was loved—it just stifled her.

      ‘I’m not going to England,’ Alison repeated. ‘I may be moving into a flat, but I’m not going to leave you—I never would, Mum. But—’ she was firm, really firm with her mum for the first time ‘—I do have to live.’

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      IT WAS horribly awkward the next morning.

      ‘Yes, please’ to tea, and ‘No, thanks’ to toast.

      And ‘You should eat something.’

      ‘I’m honestly not hungry.’ Alison wasn’t—she felt sick when she thought of the condoms, and just all churned up from their row. She had no idea what was happening today either. She had a bikini on beneath her denim skirt and halter neck and something a little more dressy laid out on her bed, in case…well, just in case Nick’s plans were upmarket.

      ‘Mum,’ Alison tried, ‘about last night…’

      ‘Let’s forget about that,’ Rose said. ‘It’s sorted now.’

      Except it wasn’t, Alison knew that. She looked at her mum’s strained face, at the panic that was always in her eyes, and it was more than Alison could deal with, more than she could help with, and she broached what she had once or twice before.

      ‘Have you thought about talking to someone?’ Alison swallowed. ‘That grief counsellor you saw…’

      ‘Can they bring them back?’ Rose shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m fine. I am sorry about last night, I had no right to go through your things.’

      ‘Mum,’ Alison attempted, but the conversation was closed.

      ‘What are you up to today?’

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ Alison admitted. ‘Nick’s planning something.’

      And to Rose’s credit she gave a bright smile. ‘That sounds exciting.’ But her smile faded as there was a low rumble in the street and as Rose went to the window she glanced anxiously at her daughter.

      ‘Nick’s here,’ Rose said. ‘On a bike.’

      And, worse, he had two helmets.

      ‘Hi, Rose.’ Nick grinned. ‘I’m taking Alison to Palm Beach—where they film that soap.’

      ‘Nick…’ She could see her mother’s bleached face and knew she had to do something. ‘I haven’t been on a bike.’

      ‘I’m the one riding it,’ Nick said. ‘All you have to do is hold on. Come on, Alison, I’ve got everything planned.’

      The sun was in his eyes, so maybe he couldn’t see her expression. Part of her knew she was being ridiculous, he was hardly going to go roaring off. It should have been the perfect surprise; it almost was. She wanted to grab the helmet he was offering, to climb on, to be the young woman she once had been, to spend a precious day with the man she adored.

      So she tried.

      ‘See you, Mum.’

      ‘Alison, be ca—’ And Rose tried too because she smothered down her warning. ‘Have a good day.’

      ‘I’ll call you,’ Alison promised, before her mum asked, and there was fear and trepidation but a certain exhilaration too as she took the helmet and did as he asked and just held on.

      She held onto his back and felt the machine thrum into life, her lips tightly closed, breathing through her nose, utterly rigid as they made their way through the city and over the vast bridge. She wanted so many times to tell him to stop, to let her off, and yet there was a thrill, a thrill that felt almost like pure joy as they left the city behind. The bay glistened ever more beautiful with every turn, every incline, and Alison found out what it meant to leave her worries behind.

      ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ He paused the bike and they sat for a moment just admiring, and Alison waited for him to take a photo, but he didn’t, he just sat and gazed out and drank it all in.

      ‘We used to come here for a drive on Sundays,’ Alison said. ‘When we were kids,’ she explained. ‘If we go back a couple of kilometres, there’s a nice picnic spot.’

      ‘I’ve got it all worked out,’ Nick said, turning the engine back on, and instead of going back they went on, further than she had been, and it felt faster too, but a faster that didn’t unsettle her. She had her cheek pressed into his back, could feel the heat from his body and the blue of the water before her eyes and the wind on her legs and her hair whipping her mouth, and she wanted the road to last for ever.

      Nick really had worked it out. He took the bike off the beaten path and he really had found the perfect spot. It was cool and mossy and a thick curtain of trees allowed no glimpse of the ocean, but you could hear the rumble of it in the background as they spread out the blanket and opened up the food.

      ‘I couldn’t sleep last night,’ Nick admitted, opening up some wine as she scooped out rice onto plastic plates and shared out prawns. ‘How about you?’

      ‘It wasn’t a great night…’ Alison admitted, but she was reluctant to tell him about her mum, to bog him down with the endless problems, but then he surprised her.

      ‘I couldn’t sleep without you.’

      And

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