Page 101 of The Love Letter

‘So we’re stuck here until they tell us what to do.’

‘Looks like it, yes.’

She sipped her tea, then looked up at him and smiled. ‘Simon?’

‘Yes, Zoe?’

‘I’m awfully glad you’re here.’

24

As dusk fell on Welbeck Street, there was still no word for either of them from the Prince or the palace. When Marcus finally called, Zoe had calmed down marginally. As he was at Haycroft House, sorting through the boxes in the attic, he hadn’t heard the news until he’d gone to the pub and been accosted by the locals wanting to know details.

‘Nicely done, netting a royal, Zo,’ he’d said, trying to cheer her up. ‘I’ll be on my way back to London later tonight, so if you need me, you know where I am. Stay cool, and ignore what the tossers in the media say, it’ll blow over. Love you, sis.’

‘Thanks, Marcus.’

Zoe had hung up, feeling comforted by Marcus’s support. She decided to come out of hiding in the attic and went downstairs to the shrouded drawing room, still holding on to Jamie’s teddy.

Simon prowled around the house for want of anything better to do, methodically checking for cracks in the curtains and signs of chisels under sash windows. He also surreptitiously removed the bugs he’d placed and stuffed them in a tissue box in his bedroom. He didn’t want anyone at HQ getting off on Zoe’s distress. He simply wished that they’d hurry up and decide what they were going to do with Zoe, as the two of them were currently marooned in the house until they did. He crept down the hall, hearing the voices buzzing beyond the front door. Venturing into the drawing room, he saw Zoe was still sitting paralysed on the sofa.

‘Cup of tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’ he suggested.

Zoe looked up and shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’m feeling a bit queasy. What time is it?’

‘Ten to five.’

‘I must go and call Jamie. I always do at tea time on a Sunday.’ She bit her lip. ‘What on earth do I say?’

‘Speak to the headmaster first, take his advice. If Jamie knows nothing at the moment, then maybe it’s best it stays that way.’

‘Yes, you’re right. Thanks, Simon.’ She picked her mobile off the floor and dialled the school’s number.

Simon went to the kitchen to make himself his umpteenth cup of tea, pondering why the Prince had still not rung Zoe. If he professed to love her, then surely a brief but reassuring chat would be uppermost in his mind? Surely it wasn’t possible that he and the palace would not come to Zoe’s rescue; simply leave her here to face the music alone?

‘He sounds fine. He obviously knows nothing.’ Zoe’s relieved voice broke into his thoughts.

Simon turned and smiled at her. ‘Good.’

‘The headmaster said there are a couple of journalists hanging about outside the school gates, but he’s informed the local constabulary and they’re keeping an eye out. Jamie wanted to know what sort of a week I’d had and I said it had just been normal.’ Zoe gave a weak laugh. ‘Of course, I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll be long before he does hear about it . . . You really think it best not to say anything?’

‘For now, yes. Ignorance is bliss, especially when you’re ten. He’s safe there and maybe if there’s no further ammunition, the whole thing will blow over.’

Zoe sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head on her arms. ‘Ring, Art, please ring.’

Simon patted her shoulder gently. ‘He will, Zoe, you’ll see.’

At eight o’clock that evening, Simon set up the portable TV from Jamie’s room in Zoe’s bedroom. He’d tried to tempt her to eat something, but she’d refused. She sat, slumped on the bed, her face as pale as the moonlight shining through the bay window. He drew the curtains just in case someone below had a ladder.

‘Look, why don’t you call Art? You have his mobile number, don’t you?’

‘Don’t you think I alreadyhave?’ Zoe rounded on him. ‘Like, a hundred times so far today? It goes straight to voicemail.’

‘Okay, sorry.’

‘So am I. None of this is your fault and I don’t want to take it out on you.’

‘You’re not,’ said Simon. ‘And if you did, it’s understandable.’