She marched straight up under his chin, her eyes flashing madly. ‘I’ll tell you exactly why, Finlay Armstrong.’ She pushed her finger into his chest. ‘I am so much better than this.’ She shook her head fiercely. ‘I am not having a three-way relationship with a ghost. You can’t move on because you won’t let yourself. I don’t want to spend my life living in the shadow of another woman. I don’t deserve it and I don’t need this. Don’t come in here and offer me a tiny piece of yourself, Finlay. I don’t want that. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.’ The fury started to dissipate from her voice. She took a step backwards. Her hand was shaking.
He saw her suck in a breath and pull herself back up. The expression in her brown eyes just about ripped out his soul. He’d tried to conjure up some remedy, some patchwork arrangement that might work. But his misplaced idea had backfired spectacularly.
‘I want a change of shifts. I don’t want to be around when you’re here. I’m going to speak to Clio about a transfer. We work in the Corminster across town. I’ll ask if I can do my shifts there instead.’
‘What?’ Panic gripped him like a hand around his throat.
Her eyes focused on the door. She started walking straight towards it. Her shoulders seemed straighter, her head lift stronger. ‘You’ll have my resignation in the morning. I’ll make it official and keep everything above board.’
For the briefest of pauses her footsteps faltered. There was so much circulating in his head. This was exactly what he didn’t want. This was the absolute opposite of what he wanted.
Grace’s voice softened for a second. ‘Goodbye, Finlay,’ she said as she opened the door and left.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE’D BEEN ON the roof most of the night. It was Frank who finally found him.
‘Mr Armstrong? What are you doing? Why—you’re freezing.’ Frank whipped off his jacket and put it around his shoulders.
He hadn’t meant to stay up here so long. But the frustration in him had built so much that he’d punched a wall in the penthouse and knew he had to get outside and away from anyone. The roof had been the ideal solution. Too bad he hadn’t thought to bring a coat.
One hand held the ceramic angel. He’d pushed it into his pocket when he’d closed up the house. The other hand held the silver heart from Mrs Archer. One symbolised a lost love, the other a new.
Looking out over the darkness of London, lit only by Christmas lights, had been haunting. Watching the sun start to rise behind Battersea Park and the Albert Bridge had been a whole new experience. It made him realise that the lights at Battersea Park should be purple instead of white and red. Purple seemed a much more festive colour.
Frank’s fierce grip pulled him to his feet and over to the stairs. The heat hit him as soon as he stepped inside again. He hadn’t realised he was quite so cold.
Frank walked him down to the penthouse and made a quick phone call. ‘I’ve ordered you some breakfast and some coffee.’ He paused. ‘No, scrub that. Give me a second.’ He picked up the phone again and spoke quietly before replacing it. ‘I’ve ordered something more appropriate.’ He walked over to the room thermostat and turned it up. He looked around the room, then left and scouted in the bathroom, coming back with a fleecy dressing gown that Finlay rarely wore. ‘Here, put that on too. I’m going to deal with something else. But I’ll be back up in ten minutes to check on you.’
Heat was slowly but surely starting to permeate his body. His fingers were entirely white with almost a tinge of blue. They were starting to tingle as they warmed up.
He was still staring at the Christmas decorations. He’d made so many mistakes. He just didn’t know where to start to try and put them right.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to wish away some of the things that he’d said. When Anna had died, he’d truly believed the biggest part of him had died too. It wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t true. He just hadn’t been able to face up to his grief.
Concentrating on business and only business had been his shield. His saviour. It had also been his vice.
He’d let relationships with friends deteriorate. He’d shunned any pity or sympathy. It was so much easier to shut himself off from the world. A wave of embarrassment swept over him as he realised he’d also shut out his mum, dad and sister.
His sister had got married two years ago. He hadn’t participated at all. He’d hardly even been able to bear attending. The occasion when he should have been happy for his sister, and dancing her around the marquee floor, he’d spent nursing a whiskey at the bar.
Now, she was pregnant with her first child and clearly nervous. Had he even told her how delighted he was to be an uncle? How much he was looking forward to seeing her with her child in her arms?
What kind of a person had he become?
There was a ping at the door. Room service. The trolley was wheeled in. He lifted the silver platter. Pancakes, eggs and bacon. Unusual choice. He looked in the lower part of the trolley for the coffee.
But there was no coffee. Instead, there was a hot chocolate, piled high with cream and marshmallows and dusted with chocolate.
He sagged back into his chair. Frank. How did he know?
The first sip was all it took. Two minutes later he was tearing into the pancakes, eggs and bacon. He flipped open his computer and did a quick search, made a few calls.
Then he made another.
‘Mum? Hi. Yeah... Yeah... I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine. But let me handle that. I wanted to ask a favour. How would you feel about supervising the staff from a cleaning and restoration company for me? They can be there on the sixth of January.’
It was amazing. Just one simple but major act made him feel as though a huge dark cloud had been pushed off into the distance.
She spoke for a long, long time. Finlay knew better than to interrupt. He just gave the occasional, ‘Yes...yes...yes...thanks...’
Her final words brought tears to a grown man’s eyes. He put the phone back down as Frank came into the room.
The room seemed brighter, the early-morning sun sending a yellow streak across the room. Frank looked approvingly at the empty plate. ‘Good, you’ve eaten. You’re looking a bit more like yourself.’ He bit his lip.
Finlay stood up. He wanted to shower and get changed. The more his head cleared, the stronger his heart pounded. For the first time in five years he had personal clarity. His business acumen had never been affected, but his own life?
It was time to finally get started.
Frank was still standing.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You have a guest. She wanted to leave something in your office. But I told her to come upstairs.’
Finlay caught his breath. Frank’s face was serious. ‘I’ll take this,’ he said briskly as he stepped forward for the empty tray. His face was impartial but his muttered words weren’t. ‘Don’t you dare upset her. Just don’t.’
Somehow he got the feeling that if he were the last man on a sinking ship right now, Frank wouldn’t let him in the lifeboat. Frank’s green coat disappeared.
There could only be one person that would cause this type of fatherly protection in Frank.
The heart that had already been pounding started to race to a sprint. ‘Grace?’
He stuck his head out of the door. Grace was standing rigid, a white envelope clutched in one hand.
‘Grace?’
Her steely gaze met his. He’d never seen her look quite so determined. His heart gave a little surge.
She straightened her shoulders. She was wearing a classy black wool coat, with an unusual cut. It emphasised her small waist. There were red skirts sticking out from the bottom of the coat and he could see the red collar at her neck.
But there was something else—a real assuredness about her. His heart swelled
a little. Grace just got more spectacular every time he saw her.
She marched forward and thrust the envelope towards him. ‘I just wanted to leave this for you, but Frank insisted I spoke to you. My resignation.’
It was as if all his best dreams and worst nightmares had decided to cram themselves into one hour of his life.
Grace’s hair was styled a little differently and her lips were outlined in red.
She looked vaguely familiar and it took a few seconds to realise why. ‘You look like Alice Archer,’ he said quietly. His hand reached up to touch her hair but Grace flinched backwards. He swallowed. ‘The only thing different is your hair colour. You look amazing, Grace.’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’
As he realised what he’d just said he gave a nervous laugh. ‘I mean it, though. I do.’
She was still holding out the envelope towards him. She had her black leather gloves on that he’d bought her. He shook his head. ‘I’m not taking it.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘You have to. You can’t stop me resigning.’ His reaction seemed to spur her on. ‘There’s no way you can stop me. I’ve made plans. I’m transferring my shifts. I’ve enrolled at college to do interior design and Clio will give me shifts that suit. I’m moving on, Finlay. I’m not going to stay here and watch you walk about in a fog for the rest of your life.’