'You're moving too fast,' she guessed aloud without real conviction, pushing at his shoulders and taking a step back. 'We only met again less than twelve hours ago and a lot has happened since then. My marriage is off, I'm leaving my job and selling my home-the last few hours have been an emotional avalanche. I'm still reeling. The last thing I need is you trying to force the pace.'
He let go of her slowly, frowning. 'Maybe that's it. But I'm afraid you'll run away again. It's a habit of yours. And you're deceitful, Pippa. I left you getting ready to have lunch with me earlier today and what did you do? You ran away here, to Maldon. Why did you do that? Maybe that's what you're intending to do again. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll find you've skipped the hotel and gone before I get up for breakfast'
Soberly, she said, 'I promise I won't. I give you my word.'
He studied her face intently. 'You'll meet me downstairs for breakfast? You swear?'
'I swear. What time?'
'Eight-thirty?'
She nodded. 'Eight-thirty. I'll be there. Then I'm checking out and going home to write letters and make phone calls.'
He moved towards the door. 'Okay, see you at breakfast, then.'
She followed so that she could bolt the door as soon as he had left and Randal looked down at her mockingly.
'Goodnight.' Bending briefly, he dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose, then he was gone, and Pippa bolted the door after him. That tiny, intimate caress left a warm feeling inside her, though, while she was undressing, taking off her make-up, washing, getting into bed.
There was something special between them; there had been from the beginning. She had never felt anything like that for anyone else. Oh, she liked Tom, but ruefully she had to admit that if she had married him it would have been a disastrous mistake. She would never have loved him, really loved him.
Switching off her bedside lamp, she lay in the darkness listening to the slow lap-lap of water on the quayside, an occasional footfall out there in the damp grey mist. Above her the ancient floors creaked as someone walked across another bedroom. Pipes hummed as water ran. But otherwise the hotel was quiet, nobody seemed to be listening to television or talking, and it didn't take her long to get to sleep.
The room was full of sunlight when she woke up; the mist had obviously cleared. Slipping out of bed, she parted the curtains to peer out. The quay bristled with masts; brightly painted little boats moored in rows, bobbing against each other as the water rose and fell.
She read their names, smiling. The True Love; Scrumpy Joe; Heggarty Peggarty; Sue-Anne. Some of them had men working on them, unpacking sails, scrubbing decks, painting, coiling ropes. Along the quay sat men drinking mugs of tea or coffee. After the grey damp silence of yesterday, the quay had come alive and was full of people.
Sunshine made you feel happier. Smiling, Pippa walked into the bathroom and took a shower before getting dressed to go down to breakfast. Although she had eaten that large dinner last night, she was now hungry again, perhaps because the sunshine had lifted her spirits and she felt more positive.
She put on jeans and a bright turquoise sweater, did her make-up, then quickly packed her case before leaving the room. As she came down the ancient stairs she saw Randal sitting in a chair below, reading a newspaper and looking up every so often to check if she was on her way.
'Why are you waiting there? Why not in the dining room?' she asked him as he stood up to greet her.
'To make sure you didn't creep away without breakfast,' he coolly admitted, flicking a glance over her from head to foot before following her into the dining room.
'I promised I wouldn't!' A little flush flowed into her face at the way he had looked at her. He didn't miss a thing, from the peaks of her breasts inside the sweater to her trim waist and long legs in the tight jeans. And that look, the glitter of desire in his grey eyes, made her pulses leap and race.
He shrugged. 'I wasn't entirely sure I could trust you.'
She couldn't honestly resent that; she knew she deserved it.
They were shown to the same table they had occupied last night, and given menus. 'Tea or coffee?' asked a young waitress. 'White or brown toast?'
'Coffee,' they both chose.
'And mixed toast?' suggested Pippa. Randal nodded, and the waitress vanished to fill their order.
Breakfast didn't take up much of their time; Pippa just had a bowl of fresh fruit followed by a boiled egg with toast. Randal had porridge and a kipper. By nine o'clock they had finished, and left the dining room together.
Pippa paid her bill and asked for her suitcase to be brought down. While she was waiting for the porter Randal quietly asked, 'You're going straight to your cottage now?'
'Yes.' She took a deep breath. 'And, please, don't come there too. I have a lot to do and I would rather be alone.'
His face impassive, he turned away. 'I'd better pay my own bill; I still have to pack. You'll probably leave before I do. Drive safely.'
He hadn't promised he wouldn't come to the cottage. She looked crossly at his back as he began paying his bill. Then the porter appeared with her case. With him on her heels, Pippa walked out to the car park and a few minutes later was driving away.
This morning the marsh looked quite different; with the mist gone the horizon was bright and the fields shimmered under the sun. She drove slowly, enjoying the landscape and the sound of birds. A heron flew low, its grey profile memorable, legs trailing, fixedly gazing down at the silvery estuary in search of prey.
It was twenty past ten when she arrived home, and as she parked she saw with a jolt of shock that Tom's car was parked a few feet away. Dismay filled her. He must be in the cottage; he still had a key. Questions buzzed inside her-why was he here? At this time of day he should be at work. What did he want? He had been surprisingly low-key yesterday in his reaction, but he had had time to think about it. Had he come back to make an angry scene?
Her teeth gritted. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to face Tom; she wasn't running away, not any more. She had done too much of that with Randal. So she lifted her chin and walked towards the front door, which opened as she approached.
Tom confronted her in his dark city suit, like a grim avenging angel.
'Where have you been?' he asked with belligerence. 'It looks as if you've been out all night. Your bed wasn't slept in and everything is spotless.' He paused, then asked tersely, 'I suppose you've been with him?'
She walked past into the cottage, sighing. 'No, I haven't!' It wasn't exactly a lie, because Tom was really asking if she had slept with Randal, and she hadn't had she? 'I don't want a row, Tom. No inquisition, please. Why are you here?'
'I realised I had to see you to sort things out. We didn't talk properly yesterday, did we? So I took a day off work.' He followed her into the kitchen and watched her put on a kettle and start laying out cups and saucers, put teabags into the teapot.
'I thought we'd said everything, Tom.'
'We were both in shock,' he said roughly. 'Now we've calmed down and I've had time to think. Look, if you want to stay in your job, you can. There's no need to feel you have to leave. People have broken off engagements before. I'm big enough to cope with a few jokes and snide remarks. You can take time to stay on, look for another job if you still want to move, but walking out right now you wouldn't have a salary until you started work elsewhere, and I don't want you to get into financial difficulties because of me.'
She looked at him incredulously, her green eyes swimming in tears. 'Oh, Tom, that is so sweet!'
He shuffled his feet, very flushed. 'Just common sense. A broken engagement isn't the end of the world. We'll get over it. So-do you want to stay on?'
She shook her head. 'Thank you for offering, Tom, but, no, I would rather leave. You're braver than I am. I don't think I could face those jokes. I'm sure I shall get another job even if it isn't as well paid.'
'With him?'
Her eyes dropped to the floor. 'No.'
'You used to work for him, you said.'
'Yes, I did.'
With an angry bite, Tom demanded, 'But he didn't offer you a job? What a bastard. When it's his fault you need a job.'
Pippa groaned. 'Oh, Tom. Yes, he did, actually. He said I could have a job with his firm, but I'm not taking up the offer.'
Tom thought about that. 'But you and he are … getting together?'
'No! I've no intention of … No!'
He ran a hand through his hair, his face confused. 'I don't understand. I thought that was the whole point? That you were in love with him, that that was why you weren't going to marry me? If you aren't going to him, then why is it off between us?'