Page 76

‘Let you what?’ His anger overwhelmed him and he had to force his voice to a low growl to keep from screaming all that anger at her. But if he did that, Sarah would be hurt even more than she was already going to be. ‘Let you tell me more lies? Lead me along another of your stories just to make your stay here a bit . . . what? Less dull?’

‘That’s not what happened. I would never . . .’

‘So it’s all a mistake, is it? You didn’t apply for another London job? The reference call was for a different Olivia Emery, was it?’

‘No. I mean, yes. I did apply for another post but . . .’

‘I really am an idiot. You told me yourself you couldn’t make me any promises. You’ve been telling me all along, haven’t you?’

Liv started to speak, but he cut her off again.

‘I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to hear it.’ He paused. ‘Actually, no I’m not. I’m not sorry about that at all. I’m sorry about trusting you, believing you when you said you were willing to give us a chance. My God, Liv, no wonder you held back so much. You never had any intention of staying here. And I’m sorry for believing that the connection I thought we had was real. And I’m sorry for thinking you were someone you’re clearly not — someone who was kind, and who I thought meant something to me. But most of all, I’m sorry I let you anywhere near my daughter. And I’m really, really sorry that she’s going to be hurt by you.’

* * *

She stared at him in horror, shock freezing her limbs and numbing her tongue. She wanted to explain, but his harsh tone and words slammed into her and knocked the breath from her lungs. ‘Callum, please . . . I wouldn’t . . .’

He held up a hand, looking more tired than she’d ever seen him before. ‘Liv, just stop. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done. I thought we had something, but was obviously mistaken. I’m not making any more mistakes.’ He stared at her, pain etched across his face. ‘I just don’t understand how you could do it. How you could tell a little girl like my Sarah that you loved her, while all along you were planning on leaving.’

That was enough to loosen her tongue. ‘I do love Sarah. I’d never want to hurt her. Or you.’

‘But you still planned to leave.’ He shook his head and looked away from her, more closed off and distant than he’d ever been to her. He couldn’t even look at her, and clearly wasn’t interested in listening. That he wasn’t even willing to give her a chance to explain hurt Liv beyond words. He’d asked her for his trust, to bare her pain and scars to him, and she’d given it willingly, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt her. But it seemed he couldn’t return that faith. He couldn’t even trust her to be a decent person who told the truth. And knowing he thought so very little of her left bitter, angry bile in her mouth.

‘I’d like to ask a favour of you. I know I have no right, but if you ever really cared for Sarah or me, even a little, I hope you’ll consider this.’

‘Anything.’ Liv grasped at the chance to make things right, to wind time back to before the phone call.

‘Sarah adores you, Liv. This is going to hurt her badly enough as it is. If you ever really cared for her, even a little, please don’t destroy this event for her. Or the community, if you cared about them too.’

‘Do you really think so little of me?’ Liv could barely get the words out. It didn’t matter. He was past listening.

‘Just make your excuses, Liv. I don’t care what they are. But please, just make your excuses to leave and don’t break Sarah’s heart today. Or ruin our . . . my . . . chances of saving my family’s surgery.’

And there was her answer. Obviously he really did think that little of her. Numbly, she followed him back to where Sarah was still happily licking ice cream from her fingers. She muttered some empty, placating excuse, gave the little girl what she knew would be the last hug, and picked up her bag with fingers that shook.

She stood for long moments, watching Callum, praying he would show her some sign of encouragement or hope. But instead he sat by Sarah and stared resolutely at the floor. But she had to try. It was too painful not to. ‘Callum, maybe tomorrow we could talk?’

‘Nothing to talk about.’ His words were quiet, calm and even, but they shook her to her core. Nothing. After everything he’d said, everything she thought they’d shared, she was nothing to him. The pain seared her into movement, and she forced herself to turn and walk away.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard, and tasted the coppery tang of blood as she forced herself to keep her pace calm and measured, and fought back tears. If anyone saw her upset, they’d wonder why — and maybe try to intervene — and she couldn’t handle that right now. If anyone was kind to her, she would break into a million pieces. And she didn’t think she would be strong enough to cope.

Somehow — probably the years of training to deal with trauma by segmenting and compartmentalising her feelings at work — she made it all the way back to her street before her tears started to fall. By the time she made it to the cottage door, the tears were blinding and she shook so badly that she couldn’t get the key and the lock to connect properly and work together to let her in.

Just like she couldn’t get Callum to connect with her and listen to her for long enough to explain. After goodness knows how many failed attempts, she gave up and staggered around the side of the cottage, and let herself into the small back gate. She dropped her bag by the back door and stumbled up the garden path to collapse on the edge of the well.

She let her fingers dig against the ancient sun-warmed stone as her tears splashed against it and darkened its surface, and she tried desperately to hang on to the happiness that had seemed so close to becoming hers less than an hour ago.

* * *

Sarah bounced up and down in the first-aid tent, making the already small, hot, canvas room feel a lot smaller and a lot hotter. Callum checked the refrigerator again for cool packs and water, and then flicked through the first-aid kit. He wasn’t expecting anything more than sunburn, overheating and maybe a few bites and stings in this heat. That and some upset tummies from too much sugar and excitement. But then, it always paid to try to be prepared for anything. That was part of the training — prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

If only he’d learned from Trixie’s betrayal, he might have been better prepared for Liv’s. He slammed the box shut, still seething with anger. How could she have done this, when she’d made so many lovely-sounding promises? Pie crust promises was what his mother called them: easily made and even more easily broken. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache growing there. The anger and disappointment was so strong he could taste it. Bitterness and bile filling his throat and mouth. He was stupid to have let her get so close — to Sarah as well as himself. And he was stupid for believing in second chances and that there was any chance of him playing happy families. He’d already learned that the hard way, and yet he’d been dragged into fairy-tale thinking by Jake and Evelyn’s happiness. He’d actually thought he might be lucky enough to have a chance at something like that — and with Liv.

But they were the exception, and his life wasn’t one out of Sarah’s story books. There wasn’t going to be any happy ever after for him — or Sarah. His stomach churned again as he watched Sarah kicking her feet happily from the chair while she licked at her rapidly melting ice cream, innocently making a horrible mess and splattering herself with sticky sweetness. But even though it was her second one of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to deny her it.

He hated that her happiness was going to be demolished so completely and so soon.

He’d never forgive Liv for that. And he’d probably never forgive himself either.