Page 60 of The Alpha Escort Agency
“Why ever not? Why do you think they give women jewellery? Why do you think they pass it down to their daughters and granddaughters? It’s a form of security, something you can sell when you need money. And my mum would have wanted me to use her jewellery to ensure I was cared for. And I’m telling you if she was here now, she’d have been thrusting the lot at you to ensure your happiness.”
“Nan, I just don’t know.”
She scowls at him. “What use have I got for it, heh, Rory? It’s not like I have any great-granddaughters to leave it to. And maybe this is my best shot at getting some.”
He snorts. “Even if you sold it. Even if that was enough for your carers. Even if I quit the work I’m doing and find something else, there’s no guarantee she’ll take me back.” His head is suddenly heavy and her hands fall away as his chin drops to his chest, his eyes lowering to the bedspread. He stares at the little pink roses printed across the crinkled material.
“You won’t know unless you try.” She smoothes the covers over her legs and sinks back against the pillows. “Your grandad never gave up on me. Not when my dad warned him off, not when I cried about not wanting to go against their wishes. He was persistent and thank goodness he was. My life would not have been what it was if I hadn’t ended up with that man.”
“I didn’t end the relationship well,” he says, grimacing.
“You think there’s ever a good way to end it?”
He swallows. “I broke up with her over the phone, Nan.”
She sighs. “Rory, that doesn’t sound like you. Why on earth did you do it that way?”
He rubs his forehead. “I … I didn’t trust myself to go through with it in person.”
“Oh, love.” She shakes her head. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll find a way to get back to her.” Her voice is suddenly stern. “I’m not taking any arguments about this, Rory. You’ve been on your own long enough. You weren’t made for it. You were made to find someone to love with all your heart and who’d love you back like that too.”
There’s a lump in his throat, a large lodged one that won’t budge when he swallows. Is that true? He’s told himself for such a long time that he isn’t. It seems jarring to hear the opposite. To even consider there could be another way.
But she’s right. He misses companionship. He misses sharing a joke with someone, one that only the two of you understand. He misses rolling over in the middle of the night and finding the other side of the bed warm with another person. He misses walking down the street, his hand holding another. He misses cooking for someone else and sharing a meal. He misses being lost in the smell of another person, mesmerised by their voice, wrapped in their thoughts and their words.
He’s tired of being alone. He’s tired of hiding away. In the last few weeks, he’s felt as if he’s stepped out of a fortress, one he thought was safe, and into a blossoming world of colour and music and perfume. And he realises the life he’s been living is no life at all. Not without love.
Not without Alice.
“Thank you, Nan. I love you.”
“I love you too. Very much. I don’t know where we’d be without you.” She smiles at him with affection. “Now off you go,” she says, releasing his hand. “I need my beauty sleep.”
Chapter 17
“You look nice,” says Lisa, running her eye down Alice’s outfit with a critical eye. Alice can’t understand why Maria invited her. She supposes she felt she had to when she asked half the office to come to the party tonight.
Or knowing Lisa, she invited herself.
She’s dressed in a very tight fitting dress, with heels so high, Alice feels dizzy just looking at them. Her hair has obviously been styled at the salon before coming here, and Alice wouldn’t be surprised if Lisa paid someone to do her makeup too, since there’s not the hint of a mascara glob or an eyeliner wobble.
Alice herself has gone for a more scaled back look. Partly because she doesn’t want to outdo the bride-to-be. And partly because the last thing she actually feels like doing is getting dressed up and coming to a party.
But Maria is her best friend and she is the Maid of Honour. So she has to be here with a smile fixed firmly on her face and an attitude to match.
And anyway, she’s fine. Completely, absolutely fine. She really is.
“Thanks, so do you,” Alice says.
Lisa flicks her hair over her shoulder. “It’s a Versace. I’ve been dying for a reason to wear it. And the shoes are Louboutin’s.”
Alice isn’t sure what the correct response to that is. “They’re … gorgeous.”
Lisa nods as if this is self-explanatory and sweeps her gaze over the room.
Ed and Maria have hired a private room at the back of Brown’s bar in Covent Garden. There’s a terrace overlooking the cobbled square, lit up with Christmas illuminations and bustling with late night Christmas shoppers and party revelers. But it’s freezing out there, winter finally arriving with its biting wind and icy frosts, and everyone is inside.
“So where is he?” Lisa asks.
