"It's not a date! He is just a friend!" I had said.

Well, who was I kidding?

...

I love Bertie Pelham.

We have spent the morning together, walking in the park and having coffee in the café there. And talking, talking, talking. And then talking some more.

I don't know why I feel so very confident when I am with him. It's like I have found a soulmate. Someone who cares about me and understands me.

There is something about him, his kindness and his tenderness, that make me almost believe - or at least hope - that maybe, maybe, someday, I will be able to tell him about Marigold, and he will be fine with it.

I almost told him today!

...

Why do I feel so secure with Bertie? It is really very strange. I have only met him a couple of times - but it feels like I've known him for a very long time.

The first time, when we first met at Brancaster, I was in a happy mode. Because the evening before Papa had told me that he knew about Marigold, and accepted her. It was such a relief. I had feared that he would find out, but that night I got to know that I had nothing to fear from him. He didn't even reproach me - he actually wanted me to forgive him!

So meeting Bertie Pelham on the way out to the shoot was just an extra bonus. A handsome and friendly young man, who was offering me to be with him during the shoot and was interested in talking to me - well I have never been spoilt with things like that, have I. I decided to have a good time with him, and I really did, all through that day and evening when I was talking to him, playing cards with him, dancing with him.

But - to be honest - I almost entirely forgot about him during the half a year or so that went by before I met him again in London. When I looked at him after he called out my name I recognised him but I didn't remember where we had met.

Well, luckily he remembered me and was even kind enough to ask me out for a drink. Because if he hadn't done that, and if he hadn't volunteered to help me during that terrible night, I'm almost certain that we wouldn't have been able to finish the magazine in time. It was good to have him there, he was so calm and confident, he made me calmer and more confident too.

He was so wonderfully helpful.

...

After we had walked in the park for a while today I invited Bertie to my flat for a drink before dinner. And then I started telling him about Michael.

I told Bertie everything about Michael, or at least almost everything. Everything except what Michael and I did that last night before he left for Germany. The night that resulted in Marigold.

I told Bertie how Michael had disappeared on his first day in Germany and how he had been killed more than a year later and found dead even later than that. How Michael had made me handle his affairs while he was away, and how I found out after his death that he had let me inherit the flat and the magazine.

Michael had obviously known that he would disappear, although he hadn't said anything about it to me. He probably hadn't known that he would die, but he must have known there was a risk.

I even told Bertie that Michael was married. I told him that Michael's wife was insane and in an institution. I told Bertie that I and Michael were in love and that Michael went to Germany to get a divorce to be able to marry me. Or at least that was what Michael had said to me.

I have never told anyone that Michael was married before, and I don't know why I told Bertie. I even expected Bertie to be shocked about that, but he wasn't.

He just listened and let me tell my story. When I was finished he only asked me one question.

"Do you still love him?"

"Well, he is dead, I have accepted that. But still - I must love him - because he gave me the most valuable thing that I have..."

I was just about to tell him about Marigold then, but I hesitated. In the end I didn't dare to. Not just yet.

"The flat and the magazine?" Bertie asked.

"Yes, yes, the flat and the magazine", I said with a sigh, letting Bertie believe I was as shallow as that. "I love Michael for that."

"Yes, of course. You must", Bertie said.

"But I'm not in love with him any longer", I added. "Not like that!"

Bertie seemed to be happy about that - or is it just what I think because I want him to be?

...

I don't know what will happen tonight, or after that, but I'm happy just because I will meet Bertie again in a couple of hours. I tell myself not to get my hopes up. I keep thinking that I just ought to enjoy his company and think nothing about the future, like I managed to do at Brancaster. But it is getting more and more difficult.

I think he is the sweetest man in the whole world and I love, love, love him. No matter what I tell myself.

AN: Thank you for reading! And thank you for the kind reviews to last chapter!

...

I've been writing other things since, but I thought I ought to finish this one before I start anything new.