‘How did you get up here?’ he asked.

‘I drove up in that Jeep.’ She pointed out a Jeep with the Government insignia and a driver. ‘The road’s a bit torn up but it’s passable.’

‘And the village?’

‘Not much damage. A few minor injuries, that’s all.’

‘Good. I need to pick up my things and get to the coast.’

‘You’re leaving? You won’t get a flight. It’s chaos at the airport.’

That meant that Miranda couldn’t leave either. ‘Just drop me at the new resort.’

‘No problem. I’m staying there myself.’

‘Fliss, the book I can forgive, but, as for the rest, I’d advise you to stick to Felipe. He’s your kind of man.’ With that, he swung himself into the Jeep and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Manda showered, changed and, less than an hour after leaving the temple site, she was boarding a helicopter that Ivo had chartered to pick her up from the resort and fly her to a nearby island where he had a private jet waiting.

He might have stepped back a little from the twenty-four/seven world he’d once occupied, but her brother still knew how to make things happen.

The village might not have been badly hit, but the people still needed help. This had been his home for the best part of five years and Jago couldn’t just walk away.

It was a week before he finally made it on to a jet that would take him home. And the first person he saw when he walked through to arrivals was his father.

Older, a little thinner, a lot greyer. For a moment they just stood and looked at one another.

Then his father said, ‘Ivo Grenville called me. Passed on your message. Your mother…’ He stopped, unable to speak.

‘Where is she?’ he asked. Then, fear seizing him by the throat, ‘Is she ill?’

‘No, son. She stayed in the car. She knew she’d cry and she remembers how much you hate that.’

If he’d had any doubts about his promise to Miranda, they were shattered in that moment when he thought he might have left it too late.

‘My first day at school. I was telling someone about that only the other day. Miranda. Ivo Grenville’s sister.’

‘You were trapped with her, Ivo said. I met her once. She’s was a tremendous help with one of my projects.’

‘She didn’t say.’ He thought he understood why. ‘Will you call Ivo, ask him to thank her for me? For sending the message.’

His father regarded him thoughtfully. ‘I think maybe you should do that yourself.’

‘I will. Soon. But if you call, she’ll know I’ve kept my word.’

He nodded. Then, ‘Shall we go and brave the waterworks?’

‘I think perhaps I’ve finally grown up enough to handle a few tears,’ He said. And he flung an arm around his father and hugged him.

It had taken the best part of two months to finish the filming of the new documentary and it was finally in the can. Finished.

Manda sat at her desk tapping the phone with her pen. She’d promised to invite Nick to the private screening. Was it a good idea?

What they’d shared had been no more than a moment in time. A life-changing moment, a moment to cherish, but to try and carry it into everyday life…

She knew he’d seen his parents. His father had called Ivo, asked him to pass on his thanks to her, but he hadn’t called her himself even though he was back in London, no doubt working on his book. But then she hadn’t called him.

Of course she’d been busy. She’d driven all over the country with Belle and Daisy, putting the adoption documentary together.

No doubt Nick was busy, too. And presumably Fliss Grant was keeping him fully occupied out of working hours. She’d certainly dropped out of the celebrity gossip mag circuit.

Actually, despite the enthusiastic welcome Fliss had received from Nick when she’d turned up with the rescue team, Manda was a little surprised by that.

For a man who held truth in such high regard, it seemed out of character for him to forgive that kind of betrayal.

She dragged her mind back from the memory of the magical moments they’d spent at the forest pool. Maybe that was the lesson Nick had learned in those long hours they’d spent together in the dark. That life is too short. That you had to grab it with both hands, take what it offered. Move on. Looking forward, never back.

Something she was doing herself. Mostly. Not forgetting, she would never forget Nick Jago. He had given her back her life, was part of every waking moment. He always would be; it was something that made her smile rather than cry.

‘I’m leaving now, Manda,’ Daisy said, wheeling in the stroller containing her sleeping baby. ‘We’ll be at Wardour Street at eight.’

It took her a moment to readjust to the present. ‘Eight? Oh, right. What’s the final headcount?’

‘I think we’ve just about got a full house.’

‘Well, that’s great. Thank you. You’ve done a great job.’ And, glad of an excuse to put off making a decision about whether to call Nick, she dropped the pen on her desk and bent to croon over her sleeping godson.

‘Hi, Jude. You just get more gorgeous every day.’

‘Manda…’

She looked up, saw trouble. ‘What’s up?’

‘This is a bad time to tell you, but there’s never going to be a good one.’

‘What?’ Then, because she knew the answer, ‘It’s Rosie, isn’t it?’

‘You asked me to find out what happened to her.’

‘And?’

‘It’s not good, I’m afraid. You know that she was being held in a care home for assessment while they found a family who would be able to cope? Most of the couples who wanted her didn’t have the first clue about what they’d be taking on.’

None of that was relevant and she dismissed it with an impatient gesture. ‘She’s gone, hasn’t she? How long?’

‘Months.’

‘And they didn’t bother to tell us?’

‘Manda…’

‘I know, I know,’ she said, waving away the jargon. She’d heard it all since she’d joined up with Belle to help raise the profile of her causes. ‘It’s none of our business. No doubt there are laws. Privacy. All that stuff…’

‘Yes, there are, but I think the real problem was that they were afraid you’d go to the press. Make them look bad. You can be a bit…well…intimidating.’

‘Really?’ She combed her hair back with her fingers. ‘I don’t mean to be. I just don’t-’

‘-suffer fools gladly. I know. If it helps, you never scared me.’

That was a fact. But then Daisy had been little more than a street brat herself. Full of lip. Terrified beneath all that front. They were total opposites and yet there had been a kind of recognition…

‘I have to find her, Daisy. I need to find her.’

‘I’ll put out the word. It’ll take time. If she doesn’t want to be found…’ She left Manda to fill in the rest. ‘I’ll catch up with you this evening at the screening.’

‘Right.’ Then, casually as she could, ‘Actually, before you go, would you see if you can find a number for Dr Nicholas Jago, at the University of London?’

‘The guy you were holed up with in that temple?’

‘Yes.’ She avoided Daisy’s gaze, picking up her pen again, making a pretence of jotting down a note. ‘We talked about the documentary and he said he’d like to see it. He was probably just being polite, but it won’t hurt to give him a call and invite him along to the screening tonight.’

‘Okay.’

‘Tell him that he’s welcome to bring a guest.’

The screening was for the network chiefs, the press, overseas buyers. After the awards they’d picked up for their first documentary, there had been considerable interest in the new film and Manda had laid on a buffet and a well stocked bar to keep the hacks happy.

She left Belle and Ivo to greet their guests-she was their ‘face’ after all-and kept herself busy with the money men. She’d positioned herself with her back to the door, determined not to be caught watching for Nick.

According to Daisy, he’d said he’d be delighted to come. But ‘delighted’ might just be being polite. Or maybe Daisy was being kind.

Neither Belle nor Daisy had said a word about the fact that she’d been trapped in the dark with a good-looking man for fifteen hours. Which suggested they suspected that the two of them had connected in some way.

Fortunately, she was still scary enough that neither of them had dared broach the subject.

Daisy hadn’t said whether he was bringing a guest and Manda didn’t ask.

‘Manda?’

She turned as Daisy touched her arm, excusing herself, gladly, from a monologue on the necessity of tax incentives for film-makers.

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing. I could see you were glazing over, but I’ve been thinking about Rosie. She’d go back to the places she knew. Where she felt safe. I just thought…’

‘What?’ But Daisy’s attention had been caught by something behind her and she turned to see what it was.

A man. Tall, dark, freshly barbered and shaved.

‘Nick…’ His name caught in her throat.

‘Hello, Miranda.’

Daisy waited for an introduction but she couldn’t speak and, after a moment, she said, ‘I’ll…um…go and start shepherding people through, shall I?’ Then, to herself, ‘Yes, Daisy, you do that…’

‘You look…different,’ Manda finally managed. ‘In a suit.’

‘Good different, or bad different?’

‘Good.’ In a dark bespoke suit, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the kind of tan that was so deep it would never completely fade, he made everyone else present look stitched up, dull. No wonder Daisy had been staring…‘Not that you looked bad…’Oh, good grief. So much for walking away, not looking back, just being grateful for that one day. Sophisticated, scary Manda Grenville was behaving like a fifteen-year-old who’d just been smiled at by the hottest guy in school. ‘…before.’

‘Without a suit.’

Without any clothes at all.

She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, rounded up a few brain cells and finally managed a slightly hoarse, ‘How’s your shoulder?’ It wasn’t sparkling conversation, but it was safer than the pictures in her head of Nick Jago naked beneath a waterfall. Nick Jago with his mouth…

‘How are you, Miranda?’

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Absolutely great. Working hard, but…great.’

‘No nightmares?’

‘No…’ No nightmares. Just hot, hot dreams…‘You?’

‘No nightmares,’ he confirmed. ‘Just dreams. Did you get my message?’

‘Ivo told me. Yes. How is it? With your family?’

‘They’ve changed. I’ve met my half-sister, too. I’ve you to thank for that.’

‘You’d have got there.’ Then the hard question. ‘Are you on your own? Didn’t Daisy tell you that you could bring someone.’

‘Why would I bring someone, Miranda,’ He said, ‘when the only person I’m interested in being with is here already?’

‘Really?’ Trying to be cool when you needed a cold shower was never easy, but she did her best, looking around the widest shoulders in the room before saying, ‘I haven’t spotted the slinky blonde.’

And finally he smiled. As if she’d just told him everything he wanted to know. Well, she had…

‘Fliss made her bed with Felipe Dominez, Miranda. I advised her to lie on it. I’d have told you that if you’d hung around for another thirty seconds.’

‘Oh.’

‘And you could have thanked her. It was down to her that the rescue services reached us so quickly.’

So Fliss Grant was in love with him, Manda thought, feeling almost sorry for the woman. If he’d loved her in return she would never have written the book…

‘Did she give you back your documents?’

It wouldn’t hurt to remind him of what she’d done.

‘There was no need. I had backup copies of everything. She knew that.’

‘Of course you did.’ Then, ‘So, here you are. Finally. It took you two months to make up my head start of thirty seconds?’

‘I got held up in the village. It was my home for nearly five years…’

‘I’m sorry, Nick. Of course you had to stay. Was it terrible?’

‘No. Just a bit of a mess. Nothing that hard work and a few dollars couldn’t fix.’

‘Money that you supplied.’

He shrugged. ‘It was nothing. I stayed for a week, made sure everything was back on track for them, that’s all.’

Far from all, she suspected…

‘And then?’

‘And then…’ He looked at her for a moment, the smallest smile creasing the corners of his mouth, his eyes. ‘And then, my dearest heart, we both had things to do. Everything happened so fast between us.’

‘Was it fast? It seemed like a lifetime, everything slowed down…’

‘Facing death, everything becomes concentrated, intense. We needed time to catch up. Time with our families. Time for work.’ He took her hand, slid his fingers through hers. ‘The future was waiting for us. We’ve finally caught up with it.’ Then, ‘Are you free after the screening? Can we have dinner? Talk?’

‘Talk? What about?’

‘Book signings. Your documentary. The fact that you knew my father and never told me. The rest of our lives.’