True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(61)

'Don't say that. You're nothing like him. He has no conscience.'

'And I do?'

'Well look at you now.' I smile back at her. 'I think you're sorry.'

She nods.

'And you're lucky,' she goes on wistfully. 'You're beautiful and  talented. You have the most amazing man in your life. And he loves you.  You deserve that. I hope you do marry him. You'd be an idiot not to.'

'And here he is,' I announce breezily. I can't have him listening in to any more of that marriage stuff.

Sara turns. 'How much of that did you hear?'

'Enough.'

Rotating slowly and following his every move, she watches him carefully as he comes to stand by my side.

'You'd better call for that taxi, Maya,' she mutters.

'No need,' Dan interrupts, touching me on the arm. 'I'll take Sara back to the station.'

'What?' she splutters, confused by the sudden change of plan. 'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely.' He gives me a gentle smile. 'Let's get working on those friendly terms.'

'I don't know.' Sara shakes her head.

'I do,' Dan insists. 'It's called fast-tracking.'

***

Almost two hours later, I'm still waiting for his return. Standing in  front of the triptych with my mobile in my hand, I'd love to get back to  painting  …  but I can't. Partly consumed by thoughts of what might be  kicking off between Dan and Sara, and partly fretting over the text I've  just received, I can barely concentrate on anything. Half wishing I'd  never gone back to Limmingham, I read over the text again.         

     



 

I'd really like to come down and see Dan. It's important. Can you help?

Of course I can help. But should I? I know she's desperate to meet up  with her brother, but what with everything else going on in his life, is  he really in a position to see Layla? Hearing a movement behind me, I  turn to find him seated on the sofa, legs crossed, gazing at me.

'How did it go?' I ask tentatively, shoving the phone into my pocket.

'Fine.' He twiddles the car keys. 'She made it safely onto her train.'

'That's not what I mean. Did you talk?'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'Fine.' He blinks, as if he can't quite believe what he's saying. 'We're fine.'

I'd love to grill him for details, but even I know there are sections of his life he needs to keep to himself.

He stands and stretches. 'I really need to get some work done now, but  I'll be finished by six. And then I'm thinking food, film and fuck. How  does that sound?'

'Fantastic,' I grin.

'Then it's a plan,' he grins back.

I point at the triptych. 'I'll get on with this.'

I waver, wondering if I really should throw out the next question. But I just can't help it.

'You've forgiven her then?'

The grin fades.

'We've made a start.'

'Well  … ' I venture, my voice giving way to nerves. I'm thinking of that  text again. 'If you can do it with my sister, I'm sure you can do the  same with your own.'

His eyes flicker with thought. He nods slightly.

'I'm sure I can.'





Chapter Twenty-Seven


It's been three days since Boyd's last appearance. Three whole days of  relative peace. While Dan's returned to work, leaving me with a clutch  of bodyguards, I've busied myself on the paintings. And by night, in  between the endless love making, we've settled into the routine of  cohabitation, slowly shaping ourselves to each other, fitting together  the jigsaw of two separate lives and discovering along the way that the  pieces fit just fine. And so, with things settling down, I'm finally  seeing more of the world to come, and the more I see, the more I love  it. By Friday, if it wasn't for the constant presence of bulky men  outside the front door, I could kid myself that life has slid into some  sort of normality.

***

I'm in the studio, staring at the image in front of me, satisfied that  I've managed to unlock the key to the centre panel, with Dan's help. I'm  gazing at the outline of a man, no one in particular to the casual  observer  …  but not to me. I know his body so well. From memory, I've  captured the definition of his neck, the slope of his shoulders, the  power of his upper arms. But I've kept his face in the shadows, his  features indistinguishable. Turning his back on the pain and angling his  head to the left, this is Daniel Foster in all his glory. I let out a  quiet breath of satisfaction. Over the last week, I've made good  progress with the triptych, tying the three pictures together with light  and colour, and now I can move on to the finer details. Picking up a  palette knife, I focus in on his face, wondering exactly how I'm going  to define his expression.

I'm drifting away in a world of possibilities when a buzzing sound  interferes with my concentration. At first, I do my best to ignore it,  but it's persistent. Putting down the knife, I make my way downstairs,  tracing the source of the noise to the intercom. I press a button on the  unit, thankfully the right one, and the concierge's disembodied voice  greets me.

'Miss Scotton. There's somebody here to see you.'

I blink at the intercom, confused. I'm certainly not expecting anyone. I  check the clock on the oven. It's just after four. So, maybe it's Lucy.  Seeing as it's Friday, she's probably left work early, and now she's  swinging by on her way to see Clive.

'Who is it?'

'Layla Keene.'

At first, I'm thrown by the surname. It takes me a few seconds to  register the fact that Dan's sister is waiting for me downstairs, a few  more seconds before tremors of anxiety begin to pass right through me.

'Layla?' And now I gaze at the intercom, totally bewildered.

Since her first text, we've been in touch but no arrangements have been  made. Over and over again, I've reassured her that I've been waiting for  the right moment to broach the subject of a reunion  with Dan, and  as yet that moment simply hasn't arrived.

'I'll be down in a minute.'

Collecting my keys, I tug open the front door and find an unexpected  surprise outside: stuffed into a chair and staring straight ahead at the  lift, it's Beefy.         

     



 

'You're back!'

'I am.' His big face screws up into a smile, and then he stands, looming  over me. I just want to throw my arms around him and give him a hug,  but that would be totally inappropriate.

'How are you doing?'

'Good. The head's all better.' He knocks his knuckles against his skull.

'Glad to hear it. I'm sorry about what happened.'

'It's not your fault. There were two of them. Big buggers.'

'So, it's just you today?' I don't even know why I'm asking. Ever since  Boyd's last appearance, the bodyguards have been steadily growing in  number.

He shakes his head. 'There's another bloke in the lobby. One more outside.'

'Jesus, this must be costing a bomb.'

'It's just prudent, miss.'

'Of course,' I smile, wondering how to word the next bit. 'Listen,  Beefy. I've got a visitor, and I really don't want you to tell Dan about  her.'

He frowns.

'But I need to fill him in on everything.'

'Not this, you don't. It's his sister.'

'I still have to  … '

'No, you don't,' I cut in, thinking on my feet. 'We're planning a  surprise for him and if you let on, it's going to ruin everything.'

His lips pucker.

'And you'd better let the other two know,' I press on. 'They're not to say a word.'

'I'm not sure about that ....'

He digs into his pocket, searching for his mobile, probably with the aim  of texting Dan. Keep calm, I tell myself, holding out a hand.

'Seriously, Beefy. What harm can it do?'

'I don't want to get sacked again.'

'You won't.' I nearly choke on my own words. After all, I may well be  talking a load of bollocks. The beef monster huffs and puffs. And then  he sighs.

'Alright then.'

Relief floods through me.

'Thank you. I'll pay you back. I promise.'

As I ride the lift, the tremors grow in force. Mentally, I skim back  through the texts we've exchanged over the last few days: Layla  increasingly eager to see her brother; me gently reassuring her that I'm  waiting for the right time. But now, from her end at least, the waiting  seems to be over. We've reached a crisis point, and if I'd been  thinking clearly, I would have seen it coming. The door slides open and I  make my way out into the lobby.

Bleary-eyed, Layla rises from her seat and launches straight into an apology.

'I'm sorry, Maya. I should have let you know but I thought you'd put me off, and I needed to come.'

I glance at the bodyguard, the concierge, and then smile at Layla.

'It's okay. Come up to the apartment. We'll talk.'

After delivering a strict warning to the men that Mr Foster is to know  nothing about my visitor, we take the lift in silence. On the way back  into the apartment, I shake my head at Beefy for good measure.

'Have a seat.' I motion towards the breakfast bar.

Taking off her jacket, Layla positions herself on a stool.

'Wow.' She surveys the lower floor of the apartment. 'This is amazing. He really has made it, hasn't he?'

'He's done alright,' I agree, sitting opposite her.

'I'm proud of him.' She pauses. 'And I'm glad he's got you.'

But for how much longer will he want me when he finds out I've been  meddling behind his back? Suddenly, I'm hit by the enormity of it all.  If Dan comes home to his sister, I risk losing the best thing I've ever  had in my life. And if I'd never gone back to Limmingham, I wouldn't be  in this pickle. Jesus, I'm an idiot.