The drive to the coast seemed interminable. Tommy had known leaving Barbara would hurt her but until he saw the horror on Fiona's face he had believed he had done the honourable thing and that Barbara would forgive him once he explained. It had seemed so logical to him. He was prepared to give up the most precious love in the world to protect her from his failings, to stop her being crushed by him. He had not foreseen that in doing so he had caused exactly the consequences he feared most. He hit his steering wheel right on the purpling welt that had developed on his hand. He grimaced as the pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder.
Fiona had accused him of being heartless and selfish; thinking only of his needs when he should have looked at everything from Barbara's viewpoint. Stuart, Winston, Fiona and even Hillier seemed to have been waiting for them to get together. Barbara it seemed had been in love with him for a very long time and everyone thought he returned her feelings. He had spent years believing their connection was a different type of love; a nobler, truer love not one build on passion. He had fought hard so many times not to change it, to be true to their friendship, to not pull her to him and kiss her senseless. He had tried to explain that to Fiona but her reply made him understand how much of fool he had been. "They're not mutually exclusive you idiot. Most people would kill to have both passion and a shared soul."
"Shared soul," he murmured as he turned off the main road onto the winding road down to the marshy coast. The idea buoyed him slightly. If that were true then he would find her. He just had to feel what she felt then he would know.
From the first second her saw her on the night of the ball he had known he loved her in all ways. He could no longer pretend he did not want her physically. He ached for her look, her smile, her touch, and when she cautiously bit her lip asking for his approval he had told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had meant every word. She was wearing a conservative yet sexy green gown. She had had her hair styled and even had a little makeup on. She shone like a thousand suns and he could not pretend his feelings were pure. He had wanted to make love to her forever.
He had proudly paraded her on his arm all night. His smile had made his cheeks burn with the strain. He had glared threateningly at any man who even looked like they might ask her to dance. Stuart, of course, had actually attempted the futile task but had been turned down with a sternly possessive, "she's my partner Stuart. She dances with me." He remembered the expression on her face. She was amused and flattered but she had looked at him as if he were the only man she could have take her in his arms on the dance-floor - or anywhere. He had taken her hand and held it firmly the remainder of the ball. That look had sealed their fate.
Now he sat in the carpark above the small town. The sea was flat and miserable and no one was walking on the pier that was being swept by a bitter wind. Very few cars were in the carpark of the caravan park and most of the cramped, rectangular boxes were closed up with their blinds drawn. He hoped she was here but he could not sense her. She had been happy here once and he had enjoyed watching her singing and reminiscing but he knew instinctively that this was the last place she would come. He felt he was starting to tap into their shared soul.
Despite his reservations he checked every van in the park. He showed her photograph to everyone he found. He looked for the children. They had eyes like hawks and the younger ones always tried to help while the teenagers would ask for a pound to tell what they knew. No one had seen her and there was no hint of her having been here. Crestfallen but not beaten he climbed in his car and drove towards Balford-le-Nez.
All he could think about was the first time they had kissed. He had expected it to be awkward and strange but instead it was natural and free-flowing. At the ball they had danced so much they needed a break. Tommy had taken her into the courtyard for some air. When Barbara had looked up at the stars one shot across the sky. He followed her eye. "You know what that means," he had whispered to her, "you have to let me kiss you." She had tilted her head towards him and he had greedily crushed his lips to hers. Urgent and eager she had returned his kiss tenfold. To this day Tommy did not know if the fireworks were in his head or the finale to the ball but he had been totally lost in the loving need for him that was conveyed by her lips.
He could not recall how they had found a cab. All he could remember was sitting in the back kissing hungrily. He remembered giving the driver an overly generous tip and her fumbling for her keys. They had slowly peeled their outer clothes from each other as they made their way to her bed. It was strewn with discarded clothing and underwear from when she was dressing. Tommy had picked up the top sheets and torn them and the detritus of her preparations from it. She had pushed him onto the bed with a smile and then they had unleashed years of desire and passion in a glorious frenzy. As he held her afterwards he had told her that he loved her and promised he would love her forever. She had called him Tommy and then shown him how soulmates make love. Nothing had prepared him for the gentleness and strength of her affection when she gifted her essence to him. Her love had torn him apart in the most rapturous way then soothed away all his pain with her steadfast loyalty and complete devotion.
He pulled over to the side of the road. The enormity of his betrayal in leaving her began to crush him. He loosened his collar trying to breathe. He had convinced himself that he was being noble and self-sacrificing but in truth the intensity of Barbara's love scared him. He had craved such love for years but when faced with it he had run. He had been right about not being worthy but he had been wrong to leave. Barbara's love was all the strength he needed. All he had to do was love her honestly. He had to find her. He had to beg her forgiveness and hope that in time she could trust him enough to love him again the way she had that night.
An hour later he pulled into Balford-le-Nez. The town was equally quiet but it was a bigger area to search. He started with the hotel where they had stayed and moved in slow circles outwards from there. He tried the shopkeepers and banks and all the places people might regularly use but no one had seen her. He did not believe she had been there yet he walked for miles knocking randomly on doors and showing people on the street her photo hoping that he may get a lead.
It was dark by the time he reached London. The vibrant city with its lights and traffic and noise felt as empty as anywhere else he had been today. Barbara was not here. He was sure he would feel it if she were near. Despite that he needed to find a clue to where she might have gone. He visited all their usual pubs, especially the ones they went to when they wanted to ensure it was just the two of them. None of the bar staff had seen her.
"I never thought she'd leave you," the barmaid at their usual watering hole told him, "she fancied ya too much and the way ya used to look at her when ya didn't think she'd see. Whoa! I always thought you two must have been hot in the cot."
Tommy felt his face darken, partly in anger but mostly in mortification. "Well if you see her tell her I need to see her urgently."
"That's it? She walks out and you're traipsing all over London looking for her and all you can say is I need to see you urgently?" Tommy's face contorted in confusion. "I'll tell her ya what love, if she comes in I'll tell her ya were frantic and said to say that you're desperately sorry and love her more than any man ever loved a woman. Then she might think about contactin' ya."
Tommy smiled and shook his head. "And that would be the truth."
It was almost a week before Barbara sensed that Tommy was back. She had dreamt of him holding her and had woken hoping it was true. Her bed was empty but she felt more at peace with the world. After a lazy shower and steaming hot chocolate she grabbed her coat and binoculars and climbed the hill. Sure enough on Howenstowe's stone drive she caught glimpses of his car. She scanned the property and caught her breath. Tommy was on his fine chestnut horse riding up to the cliffs. His demeanour had changed. He was sitting straighter and seemed to have purpose. She was torn between delight that he was better and disappointment that he was not suffering without her in the way he had mourned Helen. She watched him stop and survey the sea before looking around him. Briefly he looked directly at her and a sob escaped her throat. She still hated his lack of faith in himself, and in her, but she still loved him. Seeing him only made it harder not to drive down there and wait for him. But she had decided to leave, to give him space but she wondered if he realised what he had given away.
She watched him ride over the hill then stood to walk back to the cottage. She felt faint and had to kneel to steady herself. She took deep breaths to steady her racing heart. It was the third similar attack this week. She assumed the stress was affecting her more than she had believed.
Lynley let his horse have his head. The horse liked to run and Tommy enjoyed the freedom of not quite being in control. He had wandered London fruitlessly for five days but Barbara did not want to be located. Yesterday he had found himself on the hill, sitting on the same bench he had been on when she had found him after Helen's funeral. He half expected her to walk up and sit down and ask him if he was ready for the world yet. He searched the bench in case she had left a note but it was free of everything except carved lovehearts and stale chewing gum. Oddly though sitting there looking out he had sensed Barbara for the first time. She wanted him to go back to Cornwall. Riding the cliffs and being there would fee his mind of distractions and allow the answer to come to him. For the first time in days he felt confident he would see her again.
On the ride he had felt he was being guided. Barbara was out there and she would reveal herself to him when the time was right. "Just let it be soon."
His mother was in the kitchen when he came in from the stables. "You look a little better Tommy. The ride did you good. I've asked Trevor Carsten over this morning. We need to look over the books."
Tommy groaned at the distraction. Here he was trying to free his mind and his mother had set up meetings with the new estate manager. "Very well but I want to sit on the cliff this afternoon and see if I can tune into Barbara."
"Is she sending you radio signals now?"
"Don't be sarcastic Mother. You know this is not Barbara's doing. I think if I can clear my mind I will know where to look. I'll have my shower before Carsten arrives."
His mother stood and took his hand. "I'm sorry Tommy. I can see how this has affected you. If she will make you happy then I hope you find her quickly."
Carsten was a nervous chap. Thin and balding he reminded Tommy of Johann, the museum archivist at the Victoria and Albert. He wondered idly if the man had a row of coloured pens neatly arranged in his top pocket.
"So you will see Lord Asherton, Lady Asherton, we have made a larger than predicted return in investment in the last quarter."
Tommy ran his eye down the spreadsheet columns. "Impressive. Did we raise rents?"
"No Sir. The conversions on the six vacation cottages across the estate had been completed. We are renting those out quite successfully for short breaks. The Trent cottage has been leased twice for a month each time and the old Hailbury cottage has been leased for six months."
"Good, diversifying into tourism has been good. Barbara suggested that...six months?" Tommy sat up in his chair. "Who has it been leased to?"
Johann flipped through his records as Tommy looked on anxiously. "A woman. The agents's notes say she has recently broken up with her long-term partner and is taking a break to write her memoirs."
Tommy frowned at the last part. He had enough trouble getting Barbara to write her reports, let alone her memoirs. It was a very slim chance that the woman was Barbara but only she would be so blazon as to hide on his own property. "Name! What's her name?" he demanded.
"Says here her name is...ah, yes here it is. Helen. Helen Clyde. Is that name familiar?"
"Go to her Tommy," his mother ordered, "and do whatever it takes for you to both be happy."