Whiteout - Ken Follett [69]
She was about to tell him so when he said, “But I shouldn’t burden you with all this. I called to say something else.”
That was more like Stanley, she thought. And Mother would be okay for a few minutes more.
He went on, “After Christmas, will you have dinner with me one evening?”
What now? she thought. She said, “Of course.” What did this mean?
“You know how I disapprove of men who make romantic advances towards their employees. It puts the employee in such a difficult position—she’s bound to feel that if she refuses, she may suffer in her career.”
“I have no such fears,” she said, a bit stiffly. Was he saying that this invitation was not a romantic advance, so she did not need to worry? She found herself short of breath, and strove to sound normal. “I’d be delighted to have dinner with you.”
“I’ve been thinking about our conversation this morning, on the cliff.”
So have I, she thought.
He went on: “I said something to you then that I’ve been regretting ever since.”
“What . . .” She could hardly breathe. “What was that?”
“That I could never start another family.”
“You didn’t mean it?”
“I said it because I had become . . . frightened. Strange, isn’t it? At my time of life, to be scared.”
“Scared of what?”
There was a long pause, then he said, “Of my feelings.”
Toni almost dropped the phone. She felt a flush spread from her throat to her face. “Feelings,” she repeated.
“If this conversation is embarrassing you dreadfully, you just have to say so, and I’ll never refer to it again.”
“Go on.”
“When you told me that Osborne had asked you out, I realized you wouldn’t be single forever, probably not much longer. If I’m making a complete fool of myself, please tell me right away, and put me out of my misery.”
“No—” Toni swallowed. He was finding this extraordinarily difficult, she realized. It must be forty years since he had spoken this way to a woman. She ought to help him. She should make it clear that she was not offended. “No, you’re not making a fool of yourself, not at all.”
“I thought this morning that perhaps you might feel warmly towards me, and that’s what scared me. Am I right to tell you all this? I wish I could see your face.”
“I’m very glad,” she said in a low voice. “I’m very happy.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“When can I see you? I want to talk some more.”
“I’m with my mother. We’re at a petrol station. She’s just coming out of the toilet. I can see her now.” Toni got out of the car, still holding the phone to her ear. “Let’s talk tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t hang up yet. There’s so much to say.”
Toni waved at her mother and called: “Over here!” Mother saw her and turned. Toni opened the passenger door and helped her in, saying, “I’m just finishing off this phone call.”
Stanley said, “Where are you?”
She closed the door on Mother. “Only about ten miles from Inverburn, but progress is painfully slow.”
“I want us to meet tomorrow. We’ve both got family obligations, but we’re entitled to some time to ourselves.”
“We’ll work something out.” She opened the driver’s door. “I must go—Mother’s getting cold.”
“Goodbye,” he said. “Call me anytime you feel like it. Anytime.”
“Goodbye.” She flipped the phone shut and got into the car.
“That’s a big smile,” Mother said. “You’ve cheered up. Who was on the phone—someone nice?”
“Yes,” Toni said. “Someone very nice indeed.”
10:30 P.M.
KIT waited in his room, impatient for everyone to settle down for the night. He needed to get away as soon as possible, but everything would be ruined if someone heard him leave, so he forced himself to linger.
He sat at the old desk in the box room. His laptop was still plugged