Page 17 of Meet Me at Sunset

‘¡Qué bonita!’ the saleswoman said, and Isobel smiled. She spoke a little Spanish from the time she’d spent as an intern in Madrid, and her holidays with Stuart to Barcelona, Ibiza and Seville.

Isobel glanced around, eager to show Stuart how good she looked in the dress, but he was no longer in the shop. Her searching gaze found him through the window. He had his back to her, but as he moved slightly from one foot to the other, she saw that he was on his phone once more. Isobel watched him, frustration and annoyance coursing through her. Couldn’t he leave work alone for one day?

‘I’m sorry, I’m not going to buy it,’ Isobel said to the saleswoman, whose face dropped at the prospect of losing a sale. Isobel was too preoccupied to notice, as she went back into the cubicle and quickly changed, ignoring the other dresses she’d selected. She headed outside, fury written across her face, just as Stuart was finishing his call.

‘Work?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Stuart had the good grace to look ashamed. ‘Isobel,’ he began, placing his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged them off.

‘What?’

Stuart took a deep breath, and Isobel knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. ‘I’m sorry, but I need to fly to the mainland for a couple of days.’

‘What do you mean?’ Isobel was aware that her voice was growing louder, that she was causing a scene in the quiet street. Passing tourists glanced at them curiously.

‘It’s an important client. I can’t say no.’

‘More important than me?’

‘Isobel—’

‘Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me! Two weeks, Stuart. That’s all I asked. Just one holiday where we could spend some time together. Start trying for a baby …’

Her husband pressed his hands to his temples in exasperation. ‘Isobel, you don’t understand the expectations that come with a high-profile career. I’m doing more than running up a few dresses for ladies who lunch.’

Isobel’s cheeks coloured. When she spoke, her voice was quiet yet dangerous. ‘That’s not fair.’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m under a lot of stress right now. Look, think of it this way – if we were at home, it’d be a longer flight and I’d probably have to be away an extra night. It’s far closer if I fly from here.’

Isobel narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you plan this? When you booked this holiday, was it a convenient location to visit an important client?’

He hesitated just a micro-second too long. ‘No, of course not. Besides, you’re the one who suggested Majorca.’

Isobel stared at him for a long moment. She felt hurt, confused and angry. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more.’

‘Isobel, I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you …’

‘I wanted you here, Stuart. It’s more important to me than you know.’

He stepped towards her, taking her hands in his, and she didn’t shake him off. Encouraged, he brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them. ‘I won’t be gone for long. Here, take my credit card, buy yourself something nice whilst I’m away. But let’s go find a taxi and get back to the hotel. My flight leaves in a few hours.’

As Stuart marched off, Isobel stared bleakly after him.

I don’t want to buy myself something nice, she thought sadly. I want my husband back.

That afternoon, after Stuart had left for his flight, Isobel decided to explore the hotel. She was still shocked and upset, but had decided to do her best to enjoy her holiday and not let her husband’s unexpected absence ruin it. After all, the Palacio del Sol Radiante had an extensive cocktail list, not to mention a small but well-stocked designer boutique, and Stuart’s credit card was burning a hole in her pocket.

Isobel strolled past the entrance to the spa, reminding herself to book a full body hot-stone massage before Stuart returned, when a door up ahead swung open and a woman rushed out. Isobel recognized her immediately, instinctively calling her name.

‘Camille!’

Camille Fontaine paused, then looked around her distractedly. It seemed to take a moment for her to place Isobel, despite the fact that they’d had dinner together the previous evening. Camille looked as chic as ever, in a printed silk shift dress, and Isobel felt a pang of envy at her easy, French style.

‘Isobel,’ Camille walked towards her with a smile. ‘I’m sorry, there’s so much going on, my mind is spinning.’

‘Anything I can help with? I find myself at a loose end suddenly …’ At Camille’s frown, Isobel explained, ‘My husband, Stuart, has been called away for work. I’ve been left by myself for a few days.’

‘Oh, poor you! But please don’t be too hard on him. It was a delight talking to him at dinner, and he does such wonderful work. He did a marvellous job with Lucas’s reconstructive surgery: the world needs him.’