Clare left Zermatt early the next morning. At the train station, she couldn't help looking around to see if Bruno was there, but he wasn't. As the train went slowly down the valley to Tasch, she looked at the Matterhorn for the last time. She felt close to tears as it disappeared from sight. The journey home was quiet. Everything went smoothly and at Heathrow airport she watched as her grandfather's body was moved to the funeral car for the journey north. Kevin's photographer was there to catch it all on film. She was sorry that her grandfather was going to be buried in the Lake District beside Grandma Agatha; really he should have been buried in Zermatt, his real home. "Grandma got her wish, after all," she thought. "He's coming back to her after all this time, When she got back to her house, she wandered around, touching various familiar things and trying to feel back at home. But she felt flat. The phone rang, but it was only Andrew checking that everything had gone OK. She made one or two other phone calls to friends and caught up with their news. Then she rang Bruno. It was picked up at the other end almost immediately. "That was quick," laughed Clare. 'Were you sitting there waiting for it to ring No, I was just about to ring you.
Clare was happy to hear his warm, friendly voice, but it was odd talking to him on the phone. It's more difficult talking on the phone, Bruno said. can t see you. just said Clare laughed. "You've done it again You've exactly what I was thinking! You're incredible! Thank you.' They talked for a little longer without really saying very much, but it didn't matter. The unspoken bits were the most important there was definitely a current of excitement on the line. After Clare had put the phone down, she felt better. It was clear that Bruno was important to her, he wasn't just somebody who had been part of the magic of those few days in Zermatt. "Thank God,' she thought. "I'm too old for a holiday romance. She was woken the next morning by the sound of the newspaper being pushed through the letter-box. Seven o'clock. Time for a cup of tea and a read of the paper in bed. "I'll wait until the rush hour is over before I head off up north," she thought. She picked up the copy of the Daily News and went into the kitchen. Immediately, she turned to her article on page five. The headline over a full-page article screamed WAS HE PUSHED OR DID HE FALL? Oh no!" she cried. That wasn't what she'd written. What the hell had Kevin done? She sat down and, with growing anger, read the whole article. Instead of her gentle story of tragic love, the article had become a murder mystery, with Grandma Agatha seen as the jealous rejected wife At first, Clare couldn't believe it. She'd told Kevin not to change anything, and even if he personally hadn't re-written it, he was still the editor, still the one in charge with the final say. He could have stopped it if hed wanted Then the doubts began. Had she known deep down that he would do something like this, and had she chosen to ignore those feelings? She'd written the article and although a lot of the words had been cut or changed, she was still the guilty one. She should never have let herself be pushed into writing it. The article, as it had come out, was just another example of how low the Daily News had sunk and how low she'd sunk too. She picked up the phone, pressed Kevin's numbers with hatred, and waited. As soon as he answered, she said, 'You're a complete bastard, Kevin. I resign.' And put the phone down hard. Clare walked around the house trying to work things out in her mind. She found a packet of cigarettes in the sitting room that someone must have left and without thinking lit one. A couple of puffs and she put it out in disgust Should she ring Andrew or her mother and warn them about the article? No, perhaps better to explain it all face to face. Oh God, she could see the hurt look on her mother's face now Probably Kevin with The phone rang, but she ignored it. some smooth excuse. She switched off her mobile in case he tried that number, and went upstairs to have a shower. The hot water poured over her, but it didn't wash away the anger she felt towards Kevin, the newspaper and herself Shed been a blind fool, trying to pretend that she still had control over her work. But her kind of journalism had gone, big business had taken over and she was glad she was out of it glad not to be employed by those bastards any more!
The drive up to her mother's gave her some thinking time.