Page 43 of The Last Kiss

But love like theirs could only exist on the fringes of the world. They were outlaws, he and Harry; society made them so. Shockingly, a high desperate laugh escaped his lips. He clamped his mouth shut, but the rush of feeling wouldn’t be silenced. Outlaws? Well, why not? Why not run away and live in the wildwood together? Surely it was saner than locking themselves into this oubliette of a life.

Pollock raised a bushy eyebrow at the unmanly show of feeling. “Are you quite all right, Dalton?”

“I — ” His throat closed around the polite response, refused to let it out. All he could say was, “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go back.” He set down his cutlery.

Pollock looked around uneasily, afraid of embarrassment. “Fighting’s over, Dalton. Nobody’s asking you to go back — ”

“No.” Sweat prickled his top lip, his breaths shortening. “I mean the b-b-bank. I’m sorry.”

Pollock sat back in his chair in astonishment. “What? Why the devil not? You won’t get a better position.”

“I know that, sir. I w-want...” He cleared his throat. “I n-need a d-different life, that’s all.”

“A different life?” Pollock stared. “Need I remind you that I’ve held your position open as a favour to your father? Would you disrespect us both by this…this malingering behaviour?”

Ash shook his head, folding his napkin on his lap with shaking hands. “I mean no d-disrespect, sir. And I a-apologise for w-wasting your time today. But until right n-now I hadn’t realised that I… I c-can’t go back, Mr Pollock. The w-war changed me and I — ”

“Changed you?” he scoffed. “You’re damned lucky you came back at all.”

“I’m w-well aware of that, sir.”

Pollock puffed out a breath, looking suddenly awkward. “Nerves, is it?” he said after a pause, voice dropping. “ Sir Arthur mentioned something about it…”

Nerves. Mental weakness. He knew exactly what his father thought of his distress since returning to England. And he didn’t have the stomach for denial. His nerveswereshot — the dreadful journey this morning was evidence of that — but it wasn’t all that had changed. If he was damned lucky to be alive then he’d be damned stupid to waste this gift of a life in the offices of London Joint City and Midland. “You’re right,” he said, feeling steadier. “My nerves aren’t up to it. I d-didn’t realise until today.” He stood, reaching for his cane which he’d propped against the chair. “Thank you, sir, for keeping my p-position open. I don’t expect you to d-do so any longer. If — ” This was a lie; he would never voluntarily return. “ — If I ever feel able to return, I’ll t-take my chances with the other m-men looking for a position, sir.”

Pollock stood too. “Your father will be disappointed to hear of this, Dalton. But there are doctors… Electric shock therapy and wot-not that can cure this kind of thing.”

“I d-don’t think so, sir.” Pollock couldn’t know it, of course, but there were other things doctors used electric shock therapy to ‘cure’. As a result, he had little faith in doctors of the mind and would never put himself in their hands. Quacks, the lot of them. Offering his hand, he said, “Goodbye, Mr P-Pollock.”

After a disgruntled pause, Pollock shook his hand. “Goodbye, Dalton. And good luck.”

“I’ll t-take that, sir,” Ash said. “And with thanks. I’m quite likely t-to need it.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Harry surprised Kitty at the end of her shift at the sorting office, walking home with her and insisting she took the money he’d saved from his wages. “As part payment for what I owe you,” he told her. “And something extra for the girls.”

They shared a pie at the Cat and Fiddle — his treat — and he told her all about Highcliffe and as little as possible about Ash. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called her canny, and the last thing he wanted was Kitty’s suspicions roused against them. Traditional as they came, was Mrs Kitty Morgan. She wouldn’t understand what had grown between him and Ash. Not at all.

Hell, he wasn’t sure he understood it himself. Love, yes. Bright as a rocket blast and just as dangerous. But he wasn’t thinking about the danger, not today. How could he when they had the whole night before them? Just the thought of it brought a smile to his lips and he had to fight to keep his attention on Kitty and avoid betraying himself to her sharp eyes.

After they parted with a fond hug, Harry took the tube from White Chapel to Temple and killed time walking along the Embankment to Charing Cross. London looked different in the spring, the trees in leaf and even the sludgy Thames gleaming in the sunlight. For the first time in years, he felt something like optimism. Or perhaps it was just that his heart was lighter than it had ever been, so full of Ashleigh Dalton he could burst. They’d only been apart for a few hours and already he was excited to see him again — giddy with anticipation, foolish as a puppy. As he walked up Villiers Street, he considered taking a stroll around the Embankment Gardens to admire the flowers blooming in neat beds, but he was too impatient for that, too eager to see Ash, even though he was almost an hour early. But thank God he hadn’t dillydallied because, early as he was, Ash was earlier still. Harry spotted him immediately, looking handsome and elegant in his fine woollen overcoat and rakish Homberg, one shoulder braced against the wall of the Corner House as he cupped his hand around the fag he was lighting.

Ash wasn’t much of a smoker, except to calm his nerves. Clearly, his meeting hadn’t gone well. Whatever ‘well’ might mean for Ash.

Still, despite Ash’s jittery looks, Harry’s heart gave a delighted kick at the sight of him, his grin breaking out with irrepressible force. He picked up his pace, darting across the road in front of a lumbering omnibus. “Mr Ashleigh,” he called, when he was close enough to be heard over the traffic. For Ash’s part, he smiled like an exhausted sentry watching his relief approach.

“West. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Harry glanced at the clock. Ten past two. “You’re early.”

“Hmm.” Ash agreed and took a long pull on his fag. “How was Kitty?”

“Surprised to see me,” he said, and didn’t press Ash on the obvious change of subject. There’d be time enough to talk later, when they were alone. God, he couldn’t wait. “But she’s well, and so are the girls.”

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