The Trouble with Love by Cathy Cole Page B

the ruined fabric. She was aware of people parting, letting her through. All she wanted was to escape.
    The cabin was dark and quiet. Several rooms led off from the long, low sitting area. Polly chose the one furthest from the deck and slammed the door behind her.
    Breathe , she told herself hysterically. Don’t let this get to you.
    She was in a bedroom which seemed much too large for a boat. Pictures of yachts in full sail hung on the walls, and a jumble of clothes lay haphazardly on the polished wooden floor. She couldn’t exactly help herself to the clothes lying around the room, not without asking. From the style and size, they were clearly Eve’s. Polly rifled desperately through the drawers beside the bed instead. She needed a needle and thread.
    I hate this dress, she thought savagely, snatching up a packet of needles and a spool of white cotton. I wish I’d never worn it. But she had, and she was stuck with it, and there was nothing for it but to mend the problem.
    Her fingers were shaking so much that it took five attempts to thread the needle. The feeling of the sharp steel point between her fingers calmed her and focused her mind. She had to pretend Ollie had never said those horrible things to her. If only she could rewind the last five minutes!
    Setting the needle down, she wriggled out of the dress and studied the damage. The collar had come away from the seam around the neck, and the fabric on the collar itself had ripped.
    Polly steadied her breathing and unpicked the whole collar. When it came away from the dress, she started to slip-stitch the seams back together. In five minutes, it was a collarless dress. She held it up and examined her stitches. Given her state of mind, they were surprisingly neat.
    She put the dress back on and smoothed out the skirt. Then she checked herself in the long mirror set inside one of the cupboards.
    Better , she thought, feeling calmer. Much better. She sat down, fiddling with the fabric over her knees, trying to find the courage to leave her safe haven.
    The door swung open. Eve’s eyes widened at the sight of Polly on her bed.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing in my room?” she demanded, recovering.
    Polly leaped up, frantically preparing excuses. How much had Eve worked out about her feelings for Ollie? Had she come across as completely crazy out there on the deck, running off the way she had?
    Polly saw Max scurrying back down the corridor behind Eve, ducking his head to avoid Polly’s gaze. Everything became clear. Attack is the best form of defence , she thought, and instantly felt calmer.
    â€œDid I spoil your private time with your best friend’s boyfriend?” she said. “Sorry about that.”
    Eve folded her arms. “Look who’s talking,” she drawled. “That was very romantic out there on the deck, wasn’t it? Don’t deny it. I saw the way you looked at Ollie. Not so high and mighty after all, are you?”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” Polly bluffed. She tried to stop her voice from trembling. “You and Max are a fact, Eve. How long are you going to keep your nasty little secret?”
    Eve’s eyes darted from side to side, but she stayed where she was.
    â€œWe have a deal,” she said.
    â€œAnd our deal only lasts as long as my patience.” Polly took a step forward. “If you breathe a word of your lies about me and Ollie, I will tell Rhi about Max.”
    Polly caught sight of Rhi’s dark head appearing round the bedroom door as the last words slipped out. She gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, wishing she could push the words back in again.
    Putting her arm around Eve’s shoulders, Rhi smiled, intrigued by the silence that had suddenly descended.
    â€œTell Rhi what about Max?” she said with a laugh.

TWELVE
    Polly’s tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She stared at Rhi, trying to work out exactly how much Rhi had heard.