Warmth filled her, from the heart outwards. ‘I know. And I’m so lucky to have you all. But it felt like...they made me someone I wasn’t. So they took away who I really am.’
‘But they can’t.’ Rick tapped her on the forehead with one finger. ‘She’s still in there. And it looked to me like Tom was helping you remember who she is.’
‘I thought so too.’ Until she’d found out the truth.
There was a pause, and when Violet looked up she saw her dad had on his thoughtful face. The one that always made her mother nervous.
‘How did you find out about it? The story he wrote, I mean?’
Violet grimaced. ‘Nick called. Told me I should look into his earlier stories.’
‘Nick?’ Rick’s eyebrows launched upwards. ‘The Nick? And you listened to him?’
‘I hung up on him,’ Violet said. ‘But...I was curious.’
‘As ever.’ Rick sighed. ‘Did you talk to Tom about it before you threw him out?’
‘A bit. I think he wanted to say more,’ she admitted.
‘Maybe you should listen.’ Rick threw up his hands in pre-emptive defence. ‘I’m not standing up for the guy—you get to make your own choices about him, and if you tell me he’s not someone we should trust then I’ll can the whole book idea altogether. He can publish what he has in interviews, but there’s not even enough for a novella there. But Vi, if he matters to you—and I think he does—then you have to hear him out. Don’t let someone else’s version of who he is make your mind up for you.’
Violet nodded, and Rick bent over to kiss her on the top of the head before moving towards the door. ‘Listen to your old dad, yeah? He’s been around awhile and sometimes, just sometimes, he knows what he’s talking about.’
‘I will,’ Violet promised. But she couldn’t help but be afraid this might not be one of those times.
* * *
‘Hey, did you see this?’
Violet looked up from the file in front of her to see Rose in the doorway to the study, holding up a newspaper.
‘It’s less than twenty-four hours until the Benefit, Rose,’ Violet said. ‘I don’t have time to read the paper.’
‘You need to read this one.’ Rose slipped into the room, revealing Daisy behind her. Daisy took the visitor’s chair, rubbing her baby bump, while Rose perched on the edge of the desk, holding out the paper.
Violet sighed. Apparently she wasn’t getting out of this without reading something. ‘What is it?’ she asked, reluctantly reaching out for the paper.
‘Tom’s first article from his interviews with Dad,’ Daisy said, and Violet froze, her fingers brushing the edge of the newsprint.
‘You really do need to read it,’ Rose added.
God, but she didn’t want to. One way or another, this would settle it. If he’d written the sort of story she expected him to, then there’d be no point listening to his side of the story about anything. It really would be over.
And if he hadn’t...if by any chance he’d written the sort of story she’d want to read...what would she do then? Risk giving him a second chance?
She wasn’t sure she could.
Swallowing, Violet took the newspaper from her sister’s hand and skimmed over the section she’d folded it over to. Then, letting out a breath, she read it over again, slower this time.
‘It’s good, isn’t it,’ Daisy said after a moment. ‘I mean, the guy can really write.’
‘Sensitive, too,’ Rose added. ‘He really got Dad. I’ve never read an interview with him that made me feel like I was actually there talking with him before.’
‘Vi, are you sure...?’ Daisy trailed off as Violet shot a glare at her.
She really didn’t want to talk about this. On the one hand, she should have known better than to get involved with a reporter in the first place. And if he really, truly did turn out to be a different breed, the lesser spotted good guy journalist...what did it matter now anyway? He was gone. She’d sent him away, and for good reason.
‘Did you hear who he got to stand in for Uncle Jez tonight, by the way?’ Rose asked. ‘God only knows how. I tried to get the band to play second billing to the Lemons when we first put together the programme, but their schedule was crammed. Tom must have really pulled some strings.’
‘I’m organising the concert, Rose. Of course I heard,’ Violet snapped, then sighed. ‘Sorry. I know. He’s been great. Right from the start.’
‘And yet...’ Daisy prompted.
Violet dropped the paper to the desk. If there was anyone she could talk to, anyone who could tell her what she should do next, surely it would be her sisters. Especially since they at least seemed to have love all sussed out.
‘Have Will or Seb ever done anything, like, in their past? Something you’re not sure you could ever understand? Or forgive?’
Rose laughed. ‘Vi, honey, Will left four women at the altar, remember? You’re his best friend; you know he’s not perfect. And was I damn afraid he might do the same thing to me? Of course I was.’
‘But you married him anyway,’ Violet said.
Rose shrugged. ‘It’s like Mum and Dad always say. When you know, you know. Will is the one for me. Once I accepted that...everything got a hell of a lot easier.’
Violet turned to Daisy. ‘What about you?’
‘I thought my marriage could only ever be a show, a business deal,’ Daisy reminded her. ‘But Rose is right—when you know, you know. So, the question is—do you know?’
Did she? Violet wasn’t even sure. ‘All I know is that it hurts, not having him here,’ she admitted.
Rose and Daisy exchanged a look. Violet wasn’t used to being on the outside of those looks. She didn’t like it.
‘Hurts like a dull ache, like something’s missing but you can still feel it?’ Rose asked. ‘Like a phantom limb?’
‘Or hurts like a sharp, blinding pain. The sort that consumes you until you can’t think about anything else?’ Daisy added.
‘Both,’ Violet admitted. ‘And all the time.’
Rose and Daisy grinned across at each other.
‘Honey, you totally know,’ Rose said as she hopped off the desk.
‘Where are you going?’ Violet asked, standing when Daisy stood to follow.
Daisy flashed a smile back over her shoulder. ‘To look at maternity bridesmaid dresses, of course. In lavender.’
Violet sank back down into her chair. She wished she could be so confident. Maybe she would have been, before Nick and everything that followed.
She took a deep breath. Maybe she would just have to be again; maybe she could find that lost confidence—if it meant winning Tom back.
* * *
He shouldn’t be here. Tom was almost one hundred per cent certain he shouldn’t be here. But Rick had called and said he was playing after all, and did Tom have any suggestions for a one-off stand-in guitarist for the night...and Tom couldn’t not help. Not when he knew what a difference it could make to the night he and Violet had worked so hard to put together.
Even if she didn’t want him there.
‘Thanks again for doing this,’ he said to Owain as a wide-eyed volunteer let them through the artists’ gate.
‘Are you kidding? Playing with the Lemons? It’s an honour, man.’ Owain’s smile was wide, genuine—and world-famous. Tom had met the guitarist when his band was just starting out, and he’d rapidly become one of those friends he could call on for a night out whenever they were in the same city. These days, Owain’s band played sold-out arena tours and, while the frontman might be the most famous member, any true music lover knew it was Owain’s guitar playing that made their songs so memorable.
It didn’t hurt that he had legions of female fans either, Tom thought. That had to be a bonus for tonight.
‘I guess this is where I leave you,’ he said as Owain headed through to the bands area. Normally, Tom would have been in there too, mingling, chatting, lining up interviews and soaking in the atmosphere. Tonight
, he couldn’t take the chance of bumping into Violet.
She had to be around here somewhere, he thought, as he waved goodbye to Owain. Probably racing around, double-checking everything, keeping everything under control in a way he couldn’t have imagined her doing when they’d first met.
Strange to remember how he’d thought she was a spoilt rich kid, incapable of doing anything except trade on her parents’ names and her own notoriety. He was happy to admit he’d been totally wrong about her.
He just wished she’d believe she was wrong about him, too.