‘Tom! You made it.’ Rick Cross clapped a hand on his shoulder and Tom tried not to jump.
‘Hey. Things going well?’ Tom asked, since he couldn’t exactly ask, How’s Violet? Where is she? Will she ever forgive me?
‘Best Benefit Concert ever,’ Rick announced, then lowered his voice. ‘Don’t tell Rose I said that, though, yeah?’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Speaking of my girls, have you seen any of them yet?’ Rick asked, his tone far too nonchalant. ‘Say, Violet, for instance?’
‘Ah, no. I thought it was probably best if I stayed out of the way a bit tonight,’ Tom said. ‘I really just came to bring Owain as a favour to a mate.’
‘I see.’ Rick subjected him to a long assessing look. ‘And here I was thinking that you were here to set things right between the two of you. Never figured you for someone who’d quit at the first hurdle.’
‘I’m not...I never said I’d quit.’ Tom wasn’t a quitter. But he also knew when he wasn’t wanted. ‘Maybe I’m just giving Violet a little space before I make my move.’
‘Or maybe you’re too scared she’ll never trust you.’
How did the old man do that? See right to the heart of his every worry? Tom could understand it working with his daughters, but he’d only known the man a month.
Rick flashed him a quick grin and gripped his shoulder again. ‘Don’t worry, son. I’m not a mind-reader. But I’ve been where you are. Sherry and I always say “when you know, you know” and it’s true. But we got married in a hurry, and knowing it’s the real thing doesn’t always make it any easier when times are hard. It just means you know it’s worth fighting through.’
‘And fighting for,’ Tom murmured, almost to himself.
‘Always that,’ Rick agreed. ‘Go on. Go find her. I think she’s backstage.’
He shouldn’t. This was her big night. She’d worked damn hard for it, and he didn’t want to get in her way now. But on the other hand...how could he let this awful feeling in his chest that had started the moment he’d left Huntingdon Hall grow any bigger?
‘Backstage, you say.’ Tom squared his shoulders, wishing this didn’t feel so much like heading into battle. ‘Then I guess that’s where I’m going.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE ATMOSPHERE BACKSTAGE was incredible. How had she never experienced this before? Normally at the Benefit it would be Rose rushing about behind the scenes, while Violet, Daisy and their mum would watch from a carefully sectioned off area of the crowd.
But now Violet knew—backstage was the place to be.
The act on stage finished their last song with a resounding chord that echoed off the trees surrounding the concert area, and the audience exploded into wild applause. Violet grinned and clapped along as the band traipsed off, high-fiving each other as they came.
‘Great job, guys,’ she told them, and got wide smiles in return. This was what all the work had been for. To put together a spectacular night that would help raise money and awareness for a cause that really counted.
It almost didn’t matter that the person she wanted to share it with wasn’t there.
Almost.
‘Violet?’
Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of Tom’s voice behind her. Of course he was here. How could a music journo miss a night like tonight?
She turned slowly, barely registering the next act as they took to the stage, even as the singer, Sammy, called back to her, something about a shout-out. There was cheering and music and noise all around her, and all she could see or hear was Tom, standing there, solemn-faced, watching her, waiting for her to speak.
And suddenly she had to figure out what she wanted to say.
She’d thought she would have more time. That she could tackle this at her own leisurely pace. But, instead, here he was and she needed to fix things. Somehow.
This could be her last chance.
‘Tom.’ His name was a start, right? A very small one, but still.
He stepped closer, just one pace. ‘Things seem to be going great tonight.’
‘They really are.’ She bit her lip. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’
‘Neither was I. But Owain asked me to come with him.’
‘That’s the only reason?’ She almost didn’t want to ask. Just in case.
‘No.’ How could one word send such a flood of relief through her system?
‘I’m glad you came,’ Violet admitted. ‘I wanted to...I never gave you a chance to explain, last time. And I think...I’ll listen now. If you still want to talk.’
‘I do,’ Tom said, but the hesitation in his voice made Violet nervous.
‘But?’
Tom shook his head. ‘You have a lot going on here today. It can wait.’
‘I’m not sure it can.’ Violet frowned. There was something more here. Something she wasn’t getting. ‘What is it?’
Tom leant back against the side of the stage with a sigh, and Violet had to step closer to even hear him over the noise of the band starting up. ‘I can explain everything, and I think I can probably do it well enough to make you forgive me. This time.’
‘Well, good?’
‘But the thing is, Violet, that’s only good for this time. What happens the next time I do something you don’t agree with, or the next time something reminds you that I’m a hated journalist. You kick me out without listening again?’
‘So...you’re saying it’s not worth trying?’ Her stomach dropped lower and lower as every second passed without Tom’s answer.
‘I’m saying it’s something I want you to think about. I want to know that you can trust me because I’m me. Not because I can tell you that my editor got a tip from an anonymous source and those photos in a brown envelope, and gave me the story to write as a test. To prove I could. To earn my stripes. And I thought it was just a practice run, that it wouldn’t go to print. I don’t want you to trust me just because I swear to you I asked him not to print it, and he laughed at me and I realised Mom was right all along.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘I can explain as much as you want, Vi, and I will, probably often if we decide to make a go of things. But I need to know you trust me enough to not need the explanation to keep loving me. Does that make sense?’
It did. It was just an awfully big ask.
She opened her mouth to respond, to promise him whatever he wanted if he’d just stay long enough for them to sort things out. But then she heard her name blaring out of the speakers on stage, via Sammy, the lead singer’s, microphone.
‘And a huge shout-out to Violet Huntingdon Cross for putting together such an epic party! Come on out here, Violet!’
‘You should go,’ Tom said, stepping back from her. ‘I don’t think she’s used to being kept waiting.’
‘But we need to—’
‘I’ll find you later,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll talk then.’
But later would be too late; Violet knew it in her bones. Which meant it would have to be this way, instead. ‘Go find Mum and Daisy and Rose. They’re out front.’
Tom nodded, and was gone before Violet even stepped out onto the stage.
The lights flashed and burned her eyes and the cheers made her head pound, but nothing could dim her determination. She knew what she needed to do now. She just needed the courage to go through with it.
‘Thanks, Sammy,’ she said, stepping up to the microphone. She coul
dn’t make out anything beyond the blurs of light in the crowd; she just had to trust that Tom was out there, listening. ‘And thank you all for coming tonight.’ She paused while the crowd cheered, and tried to ignore the way her knees were shaking. ‘The Huntingdon Hall Benefit Concert is always a highlight of the year, but this is the first time I’ve been able to be so involved in it. You might have noticed that I’ve been keeping a bit of a low profile over the past few years. But that’s...’ she stumbled over her words for a moment and bit the inside of her cheek hard, determined to keep it together ‘...that’s going to change.’
There were murmurs running through the crowd now, questions and speculations and probably a few off-colour jokes, too. Violet ignored all of them, looked up into the lights and said what she needed to say.
‘I wanted tonight to be a memorial for my Uncle Jez, for his life, and a way of raising both money and awareness for people who find themselves in the same position and need our help.’ She took a breath, drawing in courage. ‘Whenever we suffer a loss—from a loss of a job, or our reputation, all the way up to a beloved family member—we have to grieve. We have to heal and we have to move on. And sometimes that can be the hardest part—letting go of the past and opening ourselves up to the possibilities of the future. It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally able to do that. I am moving on. And you’re going to be seeing more of me because of it. I’m going to be out there, raising awareness everywhere I can. I want to let people know that if they need help, it is out there for them. And I want to make sure they get it—because if I can spare one other family a loss like we’ve suffered this week, it will be worth every minute.’
The roar of the crowd’s applause rumbled in her ears and the heat in her cheeks started to fade. She’d done it. She’d taken that step forward and moved on—she just hoped that Tom had seen it.
Because now she needed to find him for the next part.
Handing the microphone back to Sammy, she rushed off stage as the band started up their next song. Weaving her way through the business backstage, smiling vaguely at every clap on the back or supportive comment, she headed for where she hoped Tom would be—with her family.