Parallel Turns: A dazzling, feel-good romantic comedy by Sarah Ingham

Author:Sarah Ingham [Ingham, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2021-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty minutes later, Flora crept into the storeroom. During the drive back to the chalet, her elation had evaporated. A sickening guilt overwhelmed her. Easing off her boots, she heard Jamie asking had they seen Flora and Sam saying they’d given her a lift and she was around somewhere.

Crushed by shame, she sank down onto the floor.

Why had she done it? Why hadn’t she come straight back to the chalet? Lunchtime had been a warning, but she’d refused to heed it. Harmless flirtation? There was no such thing, not with a man she was as attracted to as Stefan, an attraction that had hit her like a blow the very first second she’d seen him. An attraction she thought would go away if she ignored it, but which she carried around with her the way she carried around her heartbeat.

Her face felt raw, as if Stefan had branded her with a reminder of her weakness and her folly and her betrayal of Jamie. Jamie who she was marrying in a few weeks, Jamie who she’d spend forever with, Jamie who she loved.

He was bound to guess, he knew her so well. She could offer him no defence, no excuses. It would finish them. ‘Flora? Her. Yes, we were engaged once, but luckily I found out in time what a disloyal, cheap slut she was.’

Feeling sicker, Flora longed to hide herself away in the darkest corner and stay there all night. Or better still, run away.

‘Flora. Flora?’

Jamie. Her heart pounded. ‘Down here. Won’t be a minute.’ She’d have to face him, have to own up and let him tell her it was all over.

Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet, climbing the stairs as if she were on her way to the noose. Their bedroom door was ajar. Jamie was sprawled in an armchair, reading the Economist. Once again, he was James Naze Esq, the astute banker with an imperial profile, not Jamie the drunk, the cokehead who played stupid flour games at four o’clock in the morning.

‘Just getting a drink.’ Flora rushed past, her voice sounded strange as if her conscience were strangling her vocal cords.

Sam was standing in front of the roaring fire. ‘Jamie knows you’re back?’

‘Still not graced Vienna with your delightful presence?’ The voice was mocking.

In her dazed state, Flora had failed to take in Martin and Nikki sitting on the sofa. She jumped. The argument at breakfast began to flood back. A scruffy little scrubber from the back-arse of nowhere. The hick hack who’s completely up herself because she’s landed a toff. Her insides shrivelled.

‘No, Flora’s still with us.’ Nikki pouted, flicking her sleek chestnut mane over her shoulders, showing off her Tiffany bangles.

‘Jolly good.’ Martin sounded hearty, but fixed her with a granite stare. ‘Oh dear, we seem to have caught the sun, Flora. Not too painful, I hope?’

Flora felt herself stiffen, like a cat whose fur stands on end when its territory is invaded. She wondered why Martin looked as if he were getting a black eye.

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