Everything looked the same, Natalie thought. Her life was completely changed and yet London looked the same: the studio, her father, the house they had lived in for so many years. Nothing had changed except herself. The strain of putting the film together was enormous because there was no way she could get out of it. She had to sit there in the dark and help with the editing, forcing herself to watch Kip, listening to his voice. Once, in the darkness, Ray's hand covered hers and gave a helping squeeze, but in actual fact nothing helped. She loved Kip and she would always love him, whatever had happened.
The morning they had left Africa she had been over-quiet, dreading meeting him, fearing that he would come, but it had been Andrea who had come, knocking on her door as she was preparing to leave.
'Forgive me, Natalie,' she said quietly. 'I couldn't help noticing how upset you became last night. I can't let you go without speaking to you. It's Kip, isn't it?'
'Don't worry about me.' It was impossible to relax and smile, pretend that everything was all right. How many times had she said those words since she came out here? Don't worry about me.
'I'm worried about you both,' Andrea said doggedly. 'I love Kip very much. I've never seen him like this before. Last night he was almost violent.'
'Does everything have to be my fault?' Natalie asked bitterly, and much against her will tears sprang into her eyes.
'My dear, I'm so sorry. Can't you wait for him, another day?'
'There's absolutely nothing to wait for.' She had no doubt about that. If there had been, Kip would have • been here now. He would have stayed last night and found out what was happening with Neil. He would never have told Annette about their night together. She couldn't bend, couldn't soften. If she did it would be the end of her and she would be crying her eyes out in front of this beautiful woman who had a husband who adored her.
They boarded the flight and she did not look round to see if Kip was there. He would not be there. He knew the time of the flight. It was all over and all she could do was gather her courage about her to face the journey home. Not that she was afraid this time. Somehow it didn't seem to matter.
With the film out of the way she tackled her father.
'I'm leaving Westwind. I'm also moving into a flat of my own.'
Nothing could have stopped him in his tracks more. For a second he just stared at her and then thundered, his normal way of behaving.
'I'm damned if you are,' he threatened. 'If this is Bradshaw then he can go—now!'
'It has nothing at all to do with Neil,' she persisted. patiently. 'Firstly, I want to write. Secondly, I've grown scared of flying.'
'Rubbish!' He boomed at her and fixed her with a deadly eye, his sure winner. 'Since when has my daughter been scared of anything?'
'Since right now. It's no use carrying on like this. I've made my mind up.' It took a whole evening of insistence on Natalie's part and an unexpected willingness to 'plea bargain' on her father's before she won out. She could give it six months, he agreed. He was satisfied with that because he clearly thought she would be back. It settled his temper and satisfied his ego but Natalie knew she would not be back. She wanted a hole of her own, a corner to cry in, a place where she could work in peace and try to pull herself together.
It was bitterly cold for late autumn. Natalie looked round her new flat and felt a certain amount of satisfaction. As a hidey-hole, it wasn't bad.