the door of the studio again he was holding a manila envelope.
‘Your car’s waiting.’
And he thought he was going to slip away now? ‘No, Leo. I’m not going anywhere until we finish...what we were talking about.’
‘I thought I’d catch a lift with you. The car’s a lot more private.’ He walked across to the console and, too late, Alex realised that she’d forgotten to cut the sound in between the control room and the studio, and that voices were whispering out of the headphones.
He reached out, switching the sound off again. Then he turned, leaving Alex to grab her coat and handbag and follow him out of the studio.
* * *
Leo wondered whether letting sleeping dogs lie was the best option. It probably was, but he knew that wasn’t what he was going to do. Not many people questioned his decisions and, while it came as no surprise that Alex bucked that trend, it was unexpectedly like a breath of fresh air.
She settled herself on the wide leather seat in the back of the car, and Leo got in beside her. The driver confirmed the address with her and the car slid smoothly out onto the road.
‘This is nice.’ She stretched her legs out in front of her, smiling. Clearly she was attempting to disarm him before she started on the next onslaught. He wondered briefly if she knew how much damage her smile could do to a man.
The lights from the street outside were sliding across her face, giving it an almost ethereal quality and it was an effort to stop himself from staring at her. Alex was even more perfect than when he’d first met her. Or maybe he’d just become more of a connoisseur of perfection and learned how to appreciate it better.
He pressed the control button and the glass partition behind the driver’s seat slid upwards. Not that the driver probably cared two hoots about their conversation, but the gesture wasn’t lost on Alex and her cheeks reddened.
‘What happened?’ It was probably something stupid—she’d lost her phone or met an old boyfriend on the bus. But Leo had learned the hard way that hoping for the best didn’t always mean that the best was going to happen. He had to be sure.
She ignored the question. That usually annoyed him, but Alex did it so blatantly that the assertive twist of her mouth was enchanting.
‘I want to thank you. For standing up for me... I mean the charity. And our aims.’
‘That’s what a good host does.’
‘I know. But it doesn’t always happen, and... Thank you. You’re a very good host.’
People said that all the time, but on her lips the compliment warmed him. Despite that, he still hadn’t forgotten what he wanted to ask her...
‘What happened? On your way home.’
‘I had an accident. I lost my phone.’
‘What kind of accident?’ Something tingled at the back of Leo’s neck. That instinct, honed over years of listening to people, told him that whatever she was about to say next was important.
‘I got off the bus and crossed the road...’ She paused for a moment, as if the memory was a difficult one.
Leo was trying not to put two and two together and make four. Hoping that the almost inevitable conclusion wasn’t the right one, this time.
‘And...?’
‘I was knocked over by a car. Drunk driver. I woke up in hospital and my phone was... I don’t know where it was. It was gone.’
A great wave of horror seemed suspended above his head, just waiting to crash down on him. ‘This was...’ He couldn’t even say it. His finger twitched, gesturing towards her right leg.
‘Yes. My right foot and the lower part of my leg were completely crushed. The only way I’d ever be able to walk again, or be pain free, was for them to amputate below the knee.’
The full horror of it washed over him in a suffocating wall of guilt and remorse. ‘Alex... I’m so sorry. If I’d known...’
‘You couldn’t have known.’
All he could think about was the trail of small events which had ended in this one great one. If he’d only done just one thing differently...
‘I should have seen you home.’ He remembered that he’d offered and that she’d told him no. If only he’d insisted. If they’d even just argued about it, and she’d missed her bus and had to wait for the next one...
‘What would you have done? There were witnesses and they said that the car swerved right across the road and hit me. There was no getting out of the way.’
‘I might have helped...somehow.’ Anyhow. If all he could have done was just hold her hand, then he would have done it with every ounce of his strength. But he hadn’t been there for Alex, and then six months later he hadn’t been there for his brother either. The thought seemed to be literally eating at him, taking great chunks of his flesh and leaving him quivering with shock.
Her gaze searched his face. ‘You would have put me back together again? That was beyond anyone.’
He couldn’t answer. Didn’t have words to tell her how sorry he was—for all she’d been through, and for his part in it.
‘Do me a favour, eh?’ Her voice was soft and he felt her fingers brush his arm. Clawing him back from the memories that swirled in his head.
‘Yeah?’ Anything.
‘I’ve given up on the what if because the past can’t be changed. I prefer to concentrate on what is.’ She shot him an imploring look. ‘Please...’
It was an effort to smile, but if Alex could do it so could he. ‘You’ve got it.’
There was one thing he could do. The only thing that made him feel any better about having let his brother down were the people he could help now. Leo guarded that role jealously, never letting anyone else get in the way, and no one ever asked about the call-backs that he made after each show. But Alex had.
He slid the manila envelope across the seat towards her.
‘What’s this?’ She touched it lightly with her fingers, seeming to know that it was something important.
‘It’s the list of people who didn’t get through to the show. Names, numbers and I ask the call-handlers to find out whether they would like a return call if they don’t get through.’
‘And you were going to tell me about this?’ She narrowed her eyes.
‘I don’t usually volunteer the information. But you did ask.’ The envelope lay between them, Alex’s fingers at one end of it and his at the other. As if neither of them could quite bring themselves to let go.
‘So...when were you thinking of calling back?’
‘The call-handlers have told everyone that it’ll be tomorrow, late afternoon. I have a surgery in the morning but I’m usually finished by about three
