Page 6 of The Love Letter
Feeling horribly guilty, but unable to stand the atmosphere of the room any longer, Joanna quietly let herself out and ran back to the taxi.
The memorial service was over by the time she arrived back in Covent Garden. The Harrison family limousine had left and there were only a few members of the congregation still milling around outside. Feeling really wretched now, Joanna just managed to take a couple of quotes from them before hailing another cab, giving up the entire morning as a bad job.
2
The bell was ringing. Again and again, it seared through Joanna’s throbbing head.
‘Oooh God,’ she groaned, as she realised whoever was at the door was determined not to take the hint and leave.
Matthew . . . ?
For a split second, her spirits rose, then sank again instantly. Matthew was probably still toasting his freedom with a glass of champagne, in a bed somewhere with Samantha.
‘Go away,’ she moaned, blowing her nose on Matthew’s old T-shirt. For some reason, it made her feel better.
The bell rang again.
‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!’
Joanna gave in, crawled out of bed and staggered to the front door to open it.
‘Hello, sex kitten.’ Simon had the nerve to grin at her. ‘You look dreadful.’
‘Cheers,’ she muttered, hanging on to her front door for support.
‘Come here.’
A pair of comfortingly familiar arms closed round her shoulders. Tall herself, Simon, at six foot three, was one of the only men she knew who could make her feel small and fragile.
‘I got your voicemail messages when I got home late last night. Sorry I wasn’t there to play agony aunt.’
‘S’okay,’ she snuffled into his shoulder.
‘Let’s go inside before icicles start forming on our clothes, shall we?’ Simon closed the front door, an arm still firmly around one of her shoulders, and walked her into the small sitting room. ‘Jesus, it’s cold in here.’
‘Sorry. I’ve been in bed all afternoon. I’ve got a really terrible cold.’
‘Never,’ he teased her. ‘Come on, let’s sit you down.’
Simon swept old newspapers, books and congealing Pot Noodle containers onto the floor, and Joanna sank onto the uncomfortable lime-green sofa. She’d only bought it because Matthew had liked the colour and she’d regretted the purchase ever since. Matthew had always sat in her grandmother’s old leather armchair whenever he came round anyway. Ungrateful sod, she thought.
‘You’re not in a good way, are you, Jo?’
‘Nope. On top of being dumped by Matthew, Alec sent me out to cover a memorial service this morning when it was meant to be my day off. I ended up in Marylebone High Street with a weird old lady who lives in a room full of tea chests.’
‘Wow. And there’s me in Whitehall, and the most exciting thing that happened today was getting a different kind of filling from the sandwich lady.’
Joanna could barely raise a smile at his efforts to be cheerful.
Simon sat down next to her and took her hands in his. ‘I’m so sorry, Jo, really.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is it over forever with Matthew, or do you think it’s just a blip on the road to marital bliss?’
‘It’s over, Simon. He’s found someone else.’
‘Want me to go and give him a good kicking to make you feel better?’
