speaking about her mother’s near-death and yet Scarlet was checking the news reports and quickly scrolling through social media!
‘What are you doing?’ Luke asked.
‘It’s everywhere!’ Scarlet said, but then she really started to cry and they weren’t false tears this time. As she put the phone down on the desk, Luke saw an image, and he reached over and picked it up.
The photo that he saw was of Scarlet. She was dressed in a pair of red pyjamas and her feet were bare as she stood on the street beside the ambulance that her mother was being loaded into. Two bodyguards were restraining her from climbing in. Her black hair was a mop of wild curls, her usually pale skin was red from crying and there was a look of sheer terror on her face.
Luke looked up from Scarlet’s phone and at the woman who now sat on the other side of his desk—she was the perfectly groomed star in crisis now! Scarlet was wearing tight leather leggings and a tight black top. Over that there was a large silver leather jacket that looked as if it had been thrown on at the last minute. Her black curls were now perfectly tousled. Luke knew, though, from very personal experience, that the photo was a truer portrayal of Scarlet’s morning locks.
He pulled away from that memory; instead, he looked back at the phone and the image that had been captured by the press.
It showed a rare moment of reality in a very unrealistic world and this would be the photo that would dominate, Luke was sure.
Scarlet looking less than perfect.
It was the Scarlet he far preferred.
‘It’s going to be worse than ever now …’ Scarlet could not stop crying. Yes, she was terrified for her mother, but she’d had so much hanging on today, so many plans in place. There wasn’t a hope of escaping from the press now and, Scarlet knew, now more than ever her mother needed her to be near.
‘They’re going to make my life hell.’
‘Don’t feed them, then,’ Luke said. Her head was in her hands, her fingers were scrunched in her hair, but she lifted her face and gave him a scornful look as he continued to speak. ‘You don’t have to respond to the press, just focus on your mother and yourself.’
‘What would you know?’ Scarlet scoffed.
‘Oh, I know,’ Luke said. It was pointless to sit and pretend that he could take a comprehensive history from Scarlet and leave the personal aside. ‘David, the anaesthetist, will take a more thorough history once your mother has been transferred to ICU.’ He handed her back her phone, and as he did so he looked at Scarlet’s slender, manicured fingers and remembered hands that were as smooth as a kitten’s paws.
No, anger at her spoiled, pampered life didn’t now gnaw at him; instead, it saddened him that that funny, adventurous mind had been locked away for so long.
Yes, the world was supposedly Scarlet’s oyster, but Luke knew that since the day she had been born, her life had been magnified by a lens.
‘You’re handing me over.’
‘I’m handing your mother’s care over,’ Luke said. ‘That’s normal policy when a patient is moved. I need to get back out there, Scarlet. I have patients to see.’
‘What about me?’
Typical, Luke thought, but, though he tried to generate anger, though he did his best to remind himself of the spoiled princess Scarlet was and the absolute diva she could be, he failed.
‘What about us?’ Scarlet said.
‘There’s no us,’ Luke lied.
He was angry now as he recalled all she had done, but instead of standing to leave, he sat there.
And so did she.
They sat in the silence of his office and as the world carried on outside, both went back to a time when things had seemed so different.
When hope had arrived in both their hearts.
Even if it killed them to do so, both remembered.
‘I’VE GOT A HEADACHE.’ Anya closed her eyes and massaged her temples. ‘I’m going to have to go back to the hotel and see Vince.’
Scarlet frowned in concern and said all the right things to her mother but inside all she felt was relief. All she wanted was to get away from the noise of the club and close her eyes and go to sleep. It was after midnight and Scarlet had been up since seven. She had given interviews and done a shoot at London Bridge, and the rest of the day had been spent propping up her mother, telling her that she could get through the show.
‘We’ll get you back,’ Scarlet said, and nodded to her mother’s bodyguard.
‘What would I do without you?’ Anya asked, and Scarlet felt the knot that had lived in her chest for more than ten years now tighten a notch. And then, because she was Anya, her mother changed her mind about leaving when a young guy came over to their table with a drink and told her how amazing her performance that night had been. ‘I’ll just stay for one more,’ Anya said.
Scarlet moved over to give the young man room to sit next to her mother but then she stood up.
She saw the exit door and started to walk towards it.
Scarlet wanted fresh air.
More than that she wanted to run.
‘Hey, Scarlet …’ A hand was on her arm and she turned to the face of one of her mother’s bodyguards. ‘I’ll send Troy outside with you.’
She didn’t want Troy.
Scarlet didn’t want anyone, she just wanted one day, one moment to be allowed out in the world alone.
She didn’t want to be here in this club.
And then she looked up and saw a man who looked as if he didn’t want to be there either.
He was taller than most and, unlike others, he was wearing a suit. His hair was dark and as he raked a hand through it, it remained a touch messy. He was smart yet dishevelled, present but unimpressed, and there was something about him that had Scarlet intrigued.
‘We’re all leaving now,’ Troy suddenly informed her. ‘Your mother’s ready to go.’
‘I’m going to stay on.’
It was a rare request.
An almost unheard-of request, in fact, and one that did not go down too well.
‘I don’t need your drama now, Scarlet,’ Anya hissed. ‘I’ve been working all night and my head feels as if it’s about to explode …’
‘Vince will sort that out,’ Scarlet said.
It ended the conversation.
Scarlet
