Uphill All the Way (35 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

By the time she turned off The Strand for Richard's house, Judith felt stronger.

Her headache had faded, her legs had rediscovered the bones that were meant to be in them, her vision had cleared of fairy dust and the giddiness and sickness had vanished with it.

She hadn't expected that her detour to see Lydia would have a magical effect, but she felt as if she'd put down a burden. Strolling home along The Strand, watching the boats bob in the creek, she'd felt as if every step was one in a new direction. The right direction.

The house was quiet as she let herself in through the warm kitchen redolent of the evening meal. In the
salott
Erminia knitted at great speed in the pool of light from a tall lamp, her eyes more often on the television than her red wool, which was nevertheless forming into the correct shape to clothe a grandchild next winter.

She exclaimed when Judith walked into the sitting room. '
Il-hanina dinja
, have you been lost? Adam has waited for you.'

Judith yawned as she dropped into a comfortable chair, and explained about the migraine. 'Isn't Adam here? I suppose he's sloped off for a beer with Richard? I'll just make a sandwich, then, and have an early night.' How frustrating that she wouldn't be able to speak to Adam tonight, after all.

Erminia raised her eyebrows, and cast off two stitches on a sleeve. 'He has left a letter in your bedroom.'

Reluctantly, Judith climbed back out of the comfy chair that had nestled her into its cushioned arms. She was disappointed that Adam hadn't waited in for her, and so she'd have to wait to rest her fast-recovering head on his shoulder and tell him about her day. And, of course, that they must talk, now.

She yawned her way up the uncarpeted stairs, desperately tired. She'd forgotten how strong was the craving of sleep that went hand-in-hand with the misery of migraine. Her eyes began water with every jaw-wrenching paroxysm.

Maybe she wouldn't even bother with a sandwich. If she just cleaned her teeth, she could fling off her clothes and be in bed in a minute. Closing her eyes, stretching out, naked to better appreciate the welcome of those smooth, cool sheets.

The envelope waited on the bedside, pale blue and square,
Jude
large on the front in Adam's familiar scrawl.

She ripped it open, still yawning, unfolding the note as her fingers began on the buttons of her shirt. Her room seemed considerably neater than when she'd left it this morning, and she felt guilty if Erminia had felt the need to tidy up after her.

Jude, I waited as long as I could because you said you wouldn't be long. But you were. No doubt you've been busy with things that don't concern me.
Her latest yawn died mid-execution.

Do you remember, last night, that I said Malta was a small world? I think I was coming to realise that you'll stay, safe and warm in it. I'd love you to come back to the world that we've lived in together, but I don't think that you will. I'd love to think that some day you'll be ready to care for me in the way I want you to, but that seems less and less likely, too. Has Malta called you back? Or is it the memories of Giorgio? I don't know. But your head has been somewhere else for the past few days and the rest of you will follow.

I suppose Malta was the life you chose and coming back to Brinham was a knee jerk reaction to a particularly horrible episode in it. In reality, you and I are heading off in opposite directions. I thought that when I asked to spend this time with you there was a decent chance that you'd put Giorgio in the past and be receptive to me, but, instead, the opposite has happened. I've watched you getting more and more involved in your past. In Brinham, I thought that having to stay at home and wait to see whether you returned was to be avoided. But, actually, I think it might have been easier.

Of course, we were very much together last night in bed and it's a night I'll carry with me, even though I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't sleep with you again, unless things changed.

Lovely as it is, I'm unhappy in Malta, and have rearranged the flights for tonight.
TONIGHT!
But now you've stayed away all day it seems as if I should've left yours as it was - but if you don't make it, I'll fund the replacement flight. I hope I'll see you when you're in Brinham. Adam x

Judith
stared at the piece of paper in her hand. Her heartbeat halted. And then started again with a giant pulse that almost burst it from her chest cavity. Adam had gone home! Without her! She'd been so absorbed in the unsatisfactory business of trying to feel close to Giorgio in order to decide what he would have wanted her to do with the crucifix, that she'd managed to push Adam away.

The single kiss beneath Adam's name wasn't much comfort. Nothing but ink on paper. After last night? The way his mouth had fed on hers? In a moment of painful clarity she realised what last night had been about. Why Adam had broken his own rule to sleep with her.

He'd been saying goodbye.

He'd gone back to Brinham
without her
, and she was suddenly positive that Brinham was where her future lay. Because Adam was there.

Judith burst back into the living room. 'When did he go?'

'More than half-an-hour.' Erminia's brown eyes were pools of sympathy. '1845 flight. Richard took him.' She hesitated. 'I've packed for you, in case you want to catch him... shall I order a taxi?'

In ten agonising minutes, Judith was clambering into the back of a Ford Focus, leaving Erminia behind with her knitting and her television programme as the driver whizzed towards Gzira to join the regional road.

The traffic was hell, it always was when you really needed to get somewhere. She gritted her teeth and gripped the seat as they sliced past other cars, ruthlessly feeding into the flow of cars in scary games of 'chicken', even when other drivers blew their horns in long, angry blasts to go with their equally angry gestures.

She refused to glance at the dashboard clock.

The journey was a greater nightmare than usual and she gathered from the fireworks in the navy sky that there was a festa going on.

The traffic flowed through the tunnel at Hamrun well enough, though, and as they picked up the signposts for the airport the going became easier.

At least Malta's international airport was small and accessible, there was no slow approach and miles of car parks as found at monsters such as Heathrow or Gatwick. As they neared in grim silence, she felt a gust of panic to see the lights of an ascending aircraft. She scolded herself for a stupid leap of her heart. He couldn't have taken off, yet.

She knew it wasn't Richard's way to hang around waiting for visitors to queue up for check-in, so Judith wasn't surprised not to see his car in the drop-off zone. She threw ten liri at the taxi driver with her thanks, waited impatiently for him to pull her case from the boot, then struggled through a disembarking minibus load of tourists who were in typical end-of-holiday dolour, and on beneath the arch signed
Departures,
to the big glass doors.

She normally liked the airport, it was brightly shiny and clean in its relaxing speckly shades of sand and honey, reminding her of happy events such as meeting Kieran or Molly or Wilma from the plane. But she'd never seen it so
busy
, a million tourists milling before her in snaky check-in lines as long as a football pitch. What the hell was going on with the check-ins? Tour reps patrolled the lines, being loud and jolly despite the holidaymakers' peeves about going home, queuing, and the weight of their cases, as if it were someone else that had stuffed the luggage with Mdina Glass and books about the war.

'Excuse me, excuse me, please!' Judith tried to wiggle through the tail end of the lines that blocked the door.

A broad lady with a red face turned. 'It's a
queue
, lovey.'

Her travelling partner fanned herself with her passport. 'I don't know why they don't open more check-ins.'

'That's why they tell you to be here two hours in advance, if you ask me. They've no intention of opening enough, so they know there are going to be long queues.'

The tourists turned their stolid backs on Judith as they grumbled, leaving her marooned in a space by the doors.

'I don't need to check in! I just need to get through to find someone!' Judith fibbed. Still a wall of turned backs. She aimed for a weak spot in the wall and jostled her way through.

'Charming!' she heard, behind her, as she burst into the area beside the queues. And, 'Don't mind my ankles!'

She rushed along the length of the queue nearest to her gripping the handle of her case as it bounced along on its inadequate wheels, craning her neck, searching for the familiar tall shape, the hair sliding forward towards his eyes. Tiptoeing, stretching, she tried to look over into the next bunched line, and the four beyond that.

Oh, it was hopeless! He'd probably checked in by now, anyway, and no doubt through security. With such a queue to check in she doubted that she'd even make the flight.

She swung around, aiming for the Air Malta desk. They could page him. Wherever he was in the airport, they'd get him to a phone, even if he'd gone through the departure gate and up to the first floor, she would at least be able to talk to him.

Even away from check-in the airport was busy, reps in red or blue blazers, tourists, airport staff, what looked like a delegation of businessmen making their farewells to their hosts.

And then she saw him.

He was at the head of the queue filtering between the barriers into departure security, the enclosure where hand luggage was scanned and passengers stepped through the metal detector before taking the escalator up to the departure lounge. His camera bag was over his shoulder, a newspaper in his hand. Any moment and he would step out of sight.

'Adam!'

Her voice was lost in the swirl of conversation and purr of public address announcements as he shuffled between the barriers.

Abandoning her suitcase - strictly against the advice of the posters - she took a deep breath and began battling her way towards him. '
Adam
!
Adam
!'

He turned suddenly, his head moving, searching for her.

'Adam!' She windmilled her arms, trying to side step and dodge her way around the mass of aimlessly milling people. 'Wait!'

He glanced at the looming archway that signalled entry into the security check area. The brink of no return. He began to try to make his way back, no doubt annoying a lot of passengers as he went, some of whom moved reluctantly to the side.

The sea of people parted suddenly before her, and Judith raced across the polished floor, putting a spurt on as she realised that her dash was gaining unwelcome attention of the uniformed security staff. Adam had become locked in a dispute with an overweight red-faced tourist who seemed too corpulent to allow passage past him, and Adam was looking assessingly at the waist-high steel barrier. She jinked around a family arguing in German and broke into a sprint, counting her final steps. Her heart sank to see a man in uniform moving rapidly to intercept her, holding up a forbidding hand and shouting simultaneously at Adam in an effort to halt his unorthodox exit from the pen.

Even if she felt perfectly entitled to race after somebody who had nearly passed through security, she didn't intend wasting time in making certain.

Five, four, three, two, one... 'Adam!'

But as she tried to skid to a halt, the highly polished tiles and the heels of her shoes conspired to prevent her. Even as her feet tried to slew beneath the barrier - a slot too small to allow the rest of her to follow - her knee folded, and she teetered, grasping fruitless handfuls of air.

And then a hand caught hers and she was yanked upright, her left wrist almost pulled from its socket as she was hauled against a long body, feeling the scaliness of his scars against her flesh. A man in uniform addressed them in severe tones as he snatched his walkie-talkie off his belt. But she didn't care. Even with the barrier still between them and digging into her stomach she was safe within the warmth and comfort that surrounded Adam.

His eyes fastened silently on her face, and it took three good breaths before she could dredge up some words.

'You're wrong!' she managed, gripping the hand that had caught hers tightly, as if he was likely to turn and run. 'I came home to tell you, and you'd gone. I couldn't believe it, I got a taxi but the traffic was a bastard.' She paused to suck in a breath, ignoring tutting tourists wanting to pass them to get security over and passport control so that they could spend the last of their liri in the shops.

The security guard was still speaking, but Judith simply zoned him out.

Adam's grey eyes were intense, his voice quiet. 'What was I wrong about?' His hand tightened around her wrist so that she had a job not to wince.

'I had to go back, to tie up loose ends. I couldn't be happy until I had.'