Georgia shook her head.
‘There was one occasion when I saw her on Regent Street. I know she saw me too, but she looked the other way. She knows what she’s guilty of, so it suits her to have deluded cousin Georgia wiped from her life. She doesn’t want a reminder of what she did. A reminder of the guilt, the shame, the fear.’
‘Fear?’
Georgia gave a low snort.
‘The fear of getting found out, fear of scandal.’
She was crying now, tears running down her pale, elegant face.
‘Edward proposed to me that night, he put a ring on my finger. We talked about our wedding day, about our honeymoon, the life we were going to have in New York. Does that sound like a man about to commit a terrible crime?’
Amy shook her head slowly.
Georgia beat her frail hand against her chest.
‘He did not lie, Amy, he just didn’t. He wouldn’t have done that. Not then, not any night. And if you don’t believe that, then you don’t believe in love.’
She bowed her head, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. Amy moved closer to her on the sofa and put an arm around her.
‘So now you know,’ sniffed Georgia. ‘That’s why I am reduced to advertising for a companion in a magazine. That’s why I have no desire to spend Christmas with my family.’
‘And it’s why you’ve never been to New York.’
‘I think I was the only senior person in the publishing industry who had never been,’ she said with a sorry laugh. ‘But I could never go to the one place I could have been truly happy.’
‘Oh Georgia, I’m so sorry.’
The old woman took a deep breath and pushed herself up.
‘Well, let’s not spoil the day. It’s all water under the bridge anyway. Nothing’s going to bring Edward back, however many tears are shed.’
She bent to pick up the jug of flowers.
‘These are beautiful, you know,’ she said. ‘I am going to put them by the window.’
She took two steps, then seemed to stagger and pitch forward, one hand reaching for the window ledge.
‘Georgia!’ cried Amy as the vase tumbled in a slow-motion arc, clattering to the floor and spilling the flowers. She scrambled across and hooked her arms under the old woman’s shoulders, half lifting, half pulling her into an armchair.
‘I’m fine. I’m fine,’ said Georgia.
‘No you are not fine,’ said Amy, hands on hips. ‘I am going to call a doctor.’
‘Please, Amy, no.’
‘Georgia, I think something is wrong. I really think we should get someone to look at you.’
‘No,’ she said fiercely.
Amy was already at the phone.
‘Tell me the name of your doctors. I’m phoning them.’
‘There’s no point.’
‘No point?’ said Amy, her concern making her snap. ‘This is your health we’re talking about.’