Connor’s parents lived on the other side of the city, north of Hilton Head Island, officially across the border into South Carolina. Jennifer took the bridge across the Savannah River, but the traffic was bad and it took over an hour to get to their luxurious family home, a European-style estate with flourishes of French chateau that appealed to Carolyn Gilbert’s more flamboyant tastes.
Jennifer sat in her car in front of the house. Her palms were sweaty and she knew it was not from the heat of the midday sun.
She tried to focus on all the things she could do with Jim once all this was over. She imagined a road trip to Florida. Cumberland Island would be beautiful at this time of year, and Jim would love the haunting wilderness of the Okefenokee swamps, where they could take kayaks out into the canals and spot alligators and wildfowl.
She couldn’t wait to revisit London either. She had been twice before: once on a family holiday when her mother had been disappointed not to be able to go into Buckingham Palace, and another time on a school trip when they had been shunted around from gallery to heritage site – Westminster Abbey, St Paul’s Cathedral and Trafalgar Square. She had loved every single second of it: the city’s regal grandeur and its eccentricities, its red telephone boxes and black taxis, the ancient pubs that looked as if they were about to topple over, and the grand gilded stores – Fortnum & Mason, Harrods – that made her feel like a heroine in a Regency romance novel. But she looked forward to a different type of stay in the city. One where she was a local. Where she could go out to study or work, then come home to an apartment – a flat, they liked to call them in England – where she would huddle next to Jim on cold, rainy nights, an idea that seemed so cosy and seductive that she wished she was there now.
Her shoes crunched on the gravel drive as she got out of the car. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt and walked up the limestone steps to the enormous front door. The housekeeper told her that Connor was in the library, and then silently disappeared.
Jennifer moved through the house, treading carefully so that her shoes didn’t make a sound on the floor. The library was in a far wing. Like Casa D’Or, the Gilberts’ grand home was built on the banks of a river, and as she pushed open the door, she could see a glimmer of water in the distance. No lights were on, and the room had a cold and gloomy pall. She could just make out Connor sitting in a wing-backed chair that looked out over the grounds.
Words deserted her. She was glad when he spoke first.
‘I’m surprised you’ve got the balls to come here,’ he said, throwing the magazine he was reading down on the desk.
‘You’re right. And I’m surprised you even want to see me.’
‘I don’t,’ he said simply, getting to his feet. The expression on his face made her feel very cheap. ‘Was it good then? As good as you imagined?’
‘Connor, please . . .’
‘Do you expect me not to be angry? My girlfriend leaves her own twenty-first, the party at which we were supposed to be celebrating our engagement, and disappears into the night with the rock star,’ he said, his words full of sarcasm and scorn.
‘He’s my friend. I left the party just for a moment, just to say goodbye.’
‘And then you fucked him,’ he said, his lip curling into a sneer.
She wasn’t going to deny what had happened; she was sick of lying.
‘I didn’t mean it to happen like that . . .’
‘How thoughtful of you. It’s lucky for you your mother did such a good job covering for you, otherwise the whole party would have seen you for the slut that you are.’
‘Is that what you think of me?’ she said, her whole body trembling.
‘You know, the reason I am so . . . set back by this,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘is because I do still love you. Stupid, isn’t it? Despite how you’ve treated me, your family and I still love you, except you don’t respect me, not one little bit.’
‘I do respect you, Connor. I just . . . I just developed feelings for someone else.’
She could hear him take a deep inhalation of breath. His eyes closed. He looked furious.
‘When is he going back to London?’
‘Soon,’ she said quietly.
‘Good,’ he said, opening his eyes and fixing them on Jennifer.
‘I’m going with him.’
His eyes almost popped in surprise.
‘What?’
‘I’m going to apply to film school. In London. I want to be with him.’
He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.
‘Wait,’ he said. ‘I am prepared to forgive you, and you want to run off to London with him.’