‘Thank you.’
‘You need a little adhesive strip here,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s a teeny bit open in the middle.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Whatever.’ Lizzie shrugged.
No!
Both said it in their heads as their eyes met.
This is so not going to happen.
‘You should keep it dry …’
‘I know the drill.’
‘Of course.’
‘Lizzie?’
‘What?’
He didn’t know how to ask her, yet he had to know if there was more between her and Ethan, but the time wasn’t right now—there was somewhere else he needed to be. ‘I’d better get on.’ He stood and pulled on his shirt as she cleared the dressing pack away and put the blade in the sharps box.
‘Are you going somewhere nice?’ Lizzie asked, as he opened a bag and pulled out three new ties, with the extortionate price tags still on.
‘Somewhere very nice,’ Leo said. ‘And I’m actually nervous.’
‘Oh?’
‘Which tie? I asked them to send a selection.’
‘Grey …’ Lizzie said, then changed her mind. ‘I like the silver one.’
‘Nope.’ Leo shook his head. ‘Too much.’
‘You really are nervous!’ She grinned. ‘So where are you going?’
‘I actually can’t tell you,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve another house call to make.’
‘You’re going to see a patient?’ Lizzie frowned because he truly did seem tense.
‘Yep.’
He was knotting his tie and kept having to redo it.
‘So why can’t you tell me?’
‘Completely confidential,’ Leo said.
‘Isn’t everyone?’
‘Of course.’
He wasn’t saying any more and Lizzie loathed herself for being so curious, but who on earth could it be? After all they’d had Marianna, you didn’t get any more prestigious than a soon-to-be European princess … maybe another royal?
‘What time do you have to be there?’
‘Six,’ Leo said. ‘On the dot. How’s that?’ He stood there, looking absolutely stunning, his hair brushed back, his suit to die for and, yes, his tie was perfect.
‘Can’t beat a good old Windsor knot,’ she said, and gave him an almost imperceptible wink. ‘Though maybe you should have gone for royal blue.’
Still he refused to be drawn but she did see his tongue roll in his cheek as he suppressed a smile. ‘See you, Lizzie.’
‘Good luck,’ she called out to him as he headed off, and, rather than nervous now, Leo was actually smiling.
Lizzie was far too perceptive!
INSTEAD OF WORKING out what she would be wearing for the ball or getting a pedicure and her nails done, Lizzie’s weekend was spent in Brighton.
‘I’m going to a ball next weekend,’ Lizzie told her mum, chatting away as she sorted out her mother’s clothes for the week.
‘Do you hear that, Faye?’ her father, Thomas, asked. ‘Lizzie’s going to a ball in London.’
But Faye wasn’t interested in anything other than the thought that someone had taken her watch.
‘It’s being fixed, Mum,’ Lizzie attempted again, but Faye wouldn’t accept that. Today everyone was a thief, including Lizzie—who she thought was a stranger rifling through her wardrobe in broad daylight.
‘It’s Lizzie,’ Thomas said when Faye angrily confronted her.
‘Mum, I’m just trying to sort out your clothes,’ Lizzie explained patiently.
‘I’m not your mother,’ Faye shouted, and then walked off and Thomas followed her. It was normal that she didn’t recognise her, Lizzie more than knew that, and the anger and aggression was part of her illness too, but it hurt to see her mother so angry and fearful, and to not even be recognised was an agony that couldn’t always be rationalised away.
‘She’s having a cup of tea with the nurses.’ Thomas came back and gave Lizzie a smile. ‘So, you’re going out next week to a ball?’
‘It’s a work function,’ Lizzie said, ‘but it sounds very glamorous.’
‘Are you going with anyone?’
‘My boss.’
‘And does your boss have a name?’
‘Leo,’ Lizzie said. ‘Leo Hunter.’ She saw her dad’s eyebrow rise and Lizzie frowned but then realised that, of course, her dad would have heard of Leo. Even before Faye had taken ill they had lived their lives through magazines and newspapers.
‘Watch yourself, Lizzie.’
‘Leo’s lovely.’
‘Hmmph,’ her dad said. ‘He comes from bad stock. I remember reading about his mother. Above all the rules everyone else lived by, out partying …’
‘It’s a work do.’
‘Even so,’ her dad huffed. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt again. I remember Peter …’
Lizzie bit her tongue. Peter had been her boyfriend nearly ten years ago and, yes, the break-up had hurt but life hurt sometimes whether or not you lived it.
Her father just chose to live his life reading about everyone else.
‘Why don’t you come over to see the Hewitts when Mum’s resting this afternoon?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Just for a coffee.’ The Hewitts were old family friends who ran the bed and breakfast Lizzie stayed at when visiting, but her dad shook his head. ‘What about a walk on the beach, then?’ Lizzie attempted. ‘It would be nice to get some fresh air.’
‘I like to stay close to your mum.’
‘I
