'I played safe and had cold salmon with salad,' Lilli told her. 'I need my beauty sleep.' She yawned, her face tired. 'Which reminds me, I must get to bed, I'm whacked.'
When they were both in bed with the light out, Quincy lay awake listening to her sister's quiet breathing, wondering how she was going to face Joe in the morning. How would he look at her, remembering tonight?
She slept so deeply that it wasn't until Lilli shook her hard that her eyes fluttered open and, dazedly, she stared up at her sister.
'Hallo, sleeping beauty, for a minute I thought I was going to have to drop a bomb to wake you up—I've been trying to get through to you for about five minutes.' Lilli gestured to a cup of tea on the bedside table. 'I made some tea. Now I've got to rush—we've got an early call for rehearsals this morning.'
Quincy sat up, yawning, for a few seconds forgetting all that had happened last night. As she reached for the cup, memory returned in a violent flood and she halted, her lips parted on a gasp. 'Joe!' she muttered, and her sister gave her a quizzical look.
'He'd gone when I got up,' she said. 'A very polite guest, I may say—he'd folded his blankets and left the room spotlessly tidy. When you see him, tell him he'; welcome to use my couch any time he needs it.'
Quincy slackened, a faint painful disappointment in her veins as she forced a smile. 'Oh, I see,' she said. He might have stayed long enough to say goodbye, she thought.
Lilli threw her another quick, amused glance, then said very softly: 'He left this for you.' Walking to the door, she tossed an envelope on to the bed. 'Bye, darling,' she said, as she went out, and Quincy heard her laughing to herself.
The envelope lay on the end of the bed. Quincy looked at it, trembling, then scrambled down the bed to get it and climbed back inside the sheets, sitting up with the envelope in her hand, staring at her own name written on the front of it, in a strong, bold hand.
Joe's handwriting conjured him up in front of her, the flowing lines of it black and powerful, full of certainty and assurance.
She tore it open and read the few words scribbled on to a sheet of writing paper inside. 'Thank you for last night.'
A warm blush crawled up her face from her neck. Anyone reading that might get a very false impression from the words. She was glad he had sealed it down— Lilli would certainly have misunderstood.
She drank her tea and got up, took a quick bath and got dressed in a pair of white jeans, slipping a thin blue woollen sweater over the top of her head. Inside the folds she didn't, at first, hear the
doorbell, but as she pulled the sweater down the insistent noise startled her and she ran to open the door.
'Hallo, Quincy.'
She couldn't believe her eyes for a long moment, staring at Brendan in astonishment, then she demanded: 'What are you doing here?'
'I decided to take a few days off,' he said, but he was rather uneasy, his face betraying uncertainty. 'Can I come in?' he asked, and Quincy automatically stepped back to let him walk past her.
She followed him into the sitting-room and watched him glancing around. He looked different in London. At home he normally wore shabby, untidy working clothes—tweed jackets and old sweaters, grey cords and heavy boots. Today he was wearing a suit, and she rarely remembered seeing Brendan in a suit. It was far from being elegant or expensive—the dark material had been carefully pressed, though, and his blue-striped shirt looked new.
Suspiciously, Quincy asked: 'Now tell me the truth—why have you come?'
Brendan was not used to evading the truth. He couldn't meet her eyes. 'Why shouldn't I come to London once in a blue moon?'
'It seems a strange coincidence,' Quincy accused. 'Did my parents suggest you came?'
'Good lord, no!' Brendan denied, and this time he did look at her, his face surprised. 'They don't even know,' he added, and she believed him.
Quincy hesitated, frowning. She was very fond of Brendan, but she prickled with resentment at the idea that he had followed her to London in order to keep an eye on her. 'If you've come with some idea of protecting me from big bad wolves, you can take the first train home, Brendan,' she said crossly. 'I'm in no danger from anyone.'
'Aren't you?' Brendan asked rather gloomily. 'I suspect you wouldn't even know if you were—you're not used to dealing with men like Aldonez, Quincy, he's far too sophisticated for you, and he'd be ruthless to get his own way.'
A flicker of doubt showed in her face. She was about to deny what Brendan had said, angrily throw it back at him, but then she remembered the smooth way Joe had gradually seduced her into those meltingly sweet kisses, his approach so slow and gentle she had felt quite safe with him until she realised how far they had gone.
'I'm quite capable of dealing with him!' she said, stiffening. 'I'm only here for another couple of days, I can assure you I'm coping with things perfectly well.'
Brendan grimaced wryly. 'That sounds to me like a prepared speech,' he told her.
'Don't be silly!'
'You sound like someone whistling in the dark,' Brendan added. 'Your father's worried about you.'
'Dad?' She searched his face anxiously. 'Did he say so?'