He put out a comforting hand, the sudden anger that flared in her eyes stopping him from actually touching her; she was so tense now she looked as if the merest touch might shatter her.
‘I might have known this would be your attitude,’ she snapped scornfully, her hands tightly gripping the napkin spread on her lap. ‘It must be so easy to sit in judgement, in the total security of being an only child of obviously caring parents. But you can have no idea of what it was like when—when April left us the way she did. No idea.’ She was fighting back the tears now, obviously determined to remain in control.
That was May’s problem, Jude realised achingly; she had always been the eldest sister—by one year, for goodness’ sake—the one who took all the problems of the family on board and sorted them out for all of them. But who sorted out May’s problems…?
He shook his head. ‘It’s too big a burden for you to carry alone any more, May—’
‘And who’s going to help me?’ she cut in tauntingly. ‘You? Somehow I don’t think so.’ She looked at him scornfully.
Jude schooled himself not to react to that scorn, knowing that May was hurting very badly at this moment, that, no matter what she might say to the contrary, she must be filled with doubts as to the rightness of her own actions in keeping the truth from her two sisters. Or else she wasn’t the warmly caring woman he thought she was…
He shrugged. ‘I would help, if I could, and if you would let me—which you obviously won’t,’ he accepted dryly before she could speak. ‘But I was thinking more along the lines of April—’
‘Oh, please!’ she cut in scathingly. ‘April is the last person I want help from!’
Once again Jude held back his initial response to this scornful remark; losing his own temper wasn’t going to help this situation at all. Besides, May was agitated enough for both of them.
There was also the factor that they were sitting in a crowded restaurant, the tables not particularly close together, but close enough that several people had already glanced their way when their voices had become slightly louder than was normal; this really wasn’t the place for this conversation to take place.
‘Let’s eat, hmm,’ he suggested softly, picking up his own knife and fork in preparation of eating the gravid lax he had ordered. ‘Most things look better on a full stomach,’ he added as May made no move to do likewise with her garlic prawns.
She continued to look mutinous for several long seconds, but a glance around the restaurant, where several people still seemed to be casting them curious looks, was enough to convince her of the rightness of the action.
Not that there was much chance of May achieving a full stomach on the amount of food she ate, merely picking at the prawns, and pushing uninterestedly about the plate the chicken she had ordered to follow. As for conversation, that was almost nonexistent, Jude wary of introducing any subject that was going to tip May over the edge of the tight control she had over herself, and May herself not in the least conversational.
Not the most successful of evenings, Jude acknowledged as May refused dessert but ordered a cup of strong black coffee to finish off their meal.
‘May—’
‘I don’t wish to discuss this with you any more, Jude,’ she snapped warningly, eyes flashing deeply green.
So like April’s, Jude realised with that dazed feeling that was becoming so familiar to him.
Why hadn’t he seen the likeness between the two women sooner?
What difference did it make when he discovered the likeness? he instantly chided himself. He had realised it now. That was the real problem, wasn’t it…?
What would May have done if he had never seen the similarity between the two women? Would she simply have persuaded April to go away quietly? Or something else? Because he had a feeling, whether May liked it or not, that April’s days of ‘going away quietly’ were over.
He had seen the look of excited anticipation on April’s face this morning just at the mention of January and March, could easily see that, having now met May, April would want to meet her other two daughters, too.
Something May was totally against.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Whether you like it or not, May, you’re going to have to discuss this situation with someone.’
‘Why am I?’ she challenged hardly.
The uneasy truce they had come to during their meal was obviously at an end, Jude accepted ruefully. ‘Because you are,’ he reasoned softly. ‘May, April isn’t going to disappear just because it’s what you want her to do—’
‘Why isn’t she?’ May put in sharply.
He gave a weary shake of his head. ‘You’re doing it again, May. Answering a question with a question,’ he explained at her enquiring look. ‘No matter how much you might want to do so, May, you can’t keep running away from this situation—’
‘I’m not running away from anything!’ she defended heatedly.
He grimaced. ‘It certainly looks that way from where I’m sitting.’
‘Does it really?’ she bit out scornfully. ‘Well, you’re totally wrong about that. Just as you’re totally wrong about what I can or can’t do,’ she assured him with hard dismissal, throwing her napkin down on the table-top before standing up. ‘And what I want to do right now is walk out of here and go home—’