Free Bye Bye Love by Patricia Burns Page A

to go anywhere except down to the kitchen and then Irma’s there breathing down my neck like I’m going to break something or steal her food—I hate it! It’s like I’ve got no right to be there.’
    Jonathan stared at her, appalled. He thought he knew her, but he’d had no idea she felt like this about the Trafalgar, or about his mother.
    ‘You’ve got no right to talk about my mother like that,’ he said stiffly, uneasily aware of how his mother talked about Scarlett.

    ‘I have,’ cause it’s true!’ Scarlett shouted back at him. ‘You’re getting away, aren’t you? You’re going to France, but I can’t. I’ve got to stay here, and without you it’s going to be unbearable! I hate you, Jonathan Blane! You’re so selfish! I thought you liked me, but you don’t, do you? All you care about is your beastly career, and being a chef. You don’t think about me at all!’
    ‘That’s not—’ he began, but Scarlett wasn’t listening. She turned and set off down the slope, twisting and dodging between the trees.
    ‘Scarlett!’ he called, running after her. ‘Scarlett, wait! Come back—it’s not like that!’
    But, if she heard him, she gave no sign. She reached the path, cut through the groups of people still making their way back from the carnival and plunged down the next bit of slope between thick bushes. Jonathan followed, but by the time he emerged from the bushes she had got to the esplanade pavement where the crowds were so thick that they swallowed her up. For a moment he paused on the grass, where the extra height gave him a chance to scan the milling throng of people. He caught sight of her glossy head by the side of two tall men in white shirts and raced down the last bit of the slope to force his way between the people.
    ‘I do care,’ he muttered, pushing and elbowing and getting cursed at. ‘I do care. I love you.’
    It was hopeless. Every other man seemed to be wearing a white shirt. The cheerful ambling crowd shifted and swirled like a kaleidoscope. He was never going to find her in this. It would be best to go back to the Trafalgar. She had to go back there sooner or later, since she was supposed to be washing up at seven o’clock.

    Irma was getting her washing in from the yard as he walked through.
    ‘Ooh, had a lovers’ tiff, have we?’ she mocked. ‘Madam’s just gone by with a face like thunder.’
    ‘Shut up,’ Jonathan growled, hiding the lift of relief.
    So Scarlett had come straight back. Now he knew where to find her. He raced upstairs and knocked on her door.
    ‘Scarlett? Scarlett, I’m sorry. Scarlett, are you all right?’
    ‘Go away,’ came a muffled voice from inside.
    He tried the handle, but the door was locked.
    ‘Scarlett, let me in.’
    ‘Go
away
! I don’t want to speak to you ever again!’
    Desperately, he shook the handle till it rattled.
    ‘Scarlett, you’ve got to let me talk to you.’
    The door to the neighbouring room opened and Scarlett’s father appeared.
    ‘Look…er…if she says she don’t want to talk to you, son, I think you’d better push off.’
    ‘Mr Smith, I—’ he began, when the next door along opened and Marlene put her head out. Her face was pale and her hair was a mess.
    ‘Will you lot stop making such a bloody row? Some of us ain’t feeling well.’
    It only needed Irma to come along and the whole story would be reported to his mother. He ignored the two grown-ups and put his head to Scarlett’s door, forcing his voice to be low and reasonable.
    ‘I’ll speak to you later, Scarlett. We’ll work something out.’
    There was no reply.
    He hung about in the staff kitchen until opening time to avoid seeing his parents, then spent a miserable hour in the flat, sitting at the window and staring out unseeing across the water. What was he going to do? The dilemma went round and round in his head. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Scarlett. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her. But—but this