Love, Lies and Lizzie Page 7

  ‘Considering what?’ Lizzie demanded, looking around for someone who might give her news of Jane. ‘That it meant spending time in the company of people he loathes?’

  ‘What?’ Charlie replied, frowning at her. ‘It’s just that he hates hospitals, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, and of course, the rest of us absolutely love them,’ Lizzie said, and then checked herself, catching the bemused expression on Charlie’s face.

  ‘But it was nice of him to hang around, I guess,’ she added grudgingly.

  As if summoned by the mention of his name, the swing doors opened and James appeared, clutching two polystyrene cups of coffee. ‘So you got here?’ he remarked, nodding at Charlie. ‘Everything OK with your – well, you know?’

  ‘Sure. Fine.’ Charlie’s tone was clipped and dismissive. ‘So – have you seen Jane?’

  ‘Yes.’ James glanced at his watch, which Lizzie couldn’t help noticing was a Patek Philippe and very swish.

  ‘And?’ Charlie urged.

  James shrugged. ‘I reckon she’s OK,’ he replied. ‘They were wheeling her back from X-ray when I went to get coffee and she recognised me and managed to string sentences together. So assuming she’s avoided MRSA, which in a dump like this would be an achievement in itself, I guess the crisis is over.’

  He thrust one of the cups into Lizzie’s hands and turned to Charlie.

  ‘So – can we go?’

  ‘Go?’ Charlie repeated incredulously. ‘No way – not till I’ve seen Jane.’

  ‘It’s not your problem,’ James replied. ‘She’ll want her family, not – well, not a load of strangers.’

  ‘I’m not a stranger,’ Charlie retorted, colouring slightly. ‘Well, not really.’

  ‘I’m sure Janey’d love to see you,’ Lizzie assured him, if only to contradict James. ‘I’ll go and check things out.’

  ‘Lizzie!’

  She turned to find Meredith running towards her, her school bag bouncing on her bony hip.

  ‘How is she? What’s happened?’ Before Lizzie could reply, Meredith had wheeled round to face Charlie. ‘How could you let this happen? If she dies —’

  ‘Meredith, for heaven’s sake!’ Lizzie burst out. ‘She’s not going to die and it wasn’t Charlie’s fault. It was an accident.’

  ‘So did she have a hard hat? If she didn’t sign a disclaimer, she can sue you, you know – Health and Safety and —’

  ‘Give me strength,’ James muttered under his breath.

  ‘Meredith, shut it!’ Lizzie hissed.

  ‘Elizabeth Bennet?’ A lanky registrar in a slightly grubby white coat beckoned from one of the cubicles. ‘Your sister’s back from X-ray and asking for you.’

  Silently Lizzie gave thanks for the perfect timing.

  ‘The X-ray showed nothing sinister, and she’s much brighter now,’ the registrar went on. ‘We’ll keep her here for a few hours to be on the safe side, but then she should be OK to go home. And that wrist – badly sprained, and a torn ligament to boot, but no fracture. So all in all, good news.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lizzie breathed with a sigh of relief.

  She grabbed Meredith’s arm.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and see her. You coming?’ she added, turning to Charlie.

  ‘Only two in a cubicle at a time, I’m afraid,’ the doctor cautioned her.

  ‘Give her my love, then, yeah?’ Charlie asked anxiously.

  ‘Sure, ’course I will,’ Lizzie grinned. She turned to follow the doctor, who was already striding towards the curtained cubicles. Which was why she didn’t hear James’s muttered remark.

  ‘Frankly, Charlie, I wouldn’t waste your time.’

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘She attracted him more than he liked . . .’

  (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)

  ‘I FEEL SUCH A FOOL. I’VE REALLY MESSED THINGS UP.’

  Jane winced slightly as she slid off the bed and began walking with Lizzie and Meredith towards the hospital exit at seven o’clock that evening. Her wrist was bandaged and in a sling, and the bruise on her forehead was turning an even more interesting shade of violet, but the doctor had assured Lizzie that Jane was fit to be discharged.

  ‘Why do you feel a fool? It wasn’t your fault,’ Meredith remarked, averting her eyes from a vomiting four-yearold in the corridor.

  ‘Exactly – even James admitted that,’ Lizzie reasoned. ‘And just think – it might even have been worth it. You get to spend a night under the same roof as Charlie.’

  She had been pretty miffed when Charlie and James had disappeared before she could get Charlie in to see Jane, but when the nurse had handed her a phone message from Vanessa, promising to fetch them and look after Jane till her parents got home, Lizzie guessed that it was all Charlie’s doing.

  ‘I can’t go,’ groaned Jane, pausing and giving her sister a pleading look. ‘I mean, it’s ever so kind of Charlie’s mum to suggest it, but I hardly know them and it’s so grand.’

  ‘No buts,’ Lizzie ordered. ‘Mrs Bingley’s already on her way – she’s dropping us off at home and then taking you to Netherfield. Think about it, it’s destiny. Charlie will see you looking all wan and pathetic, and all his testosterone will go on red alert!’

  ‘That is so not going to happen,’ her sister protested. ‘They’ll all just see me as a wimp who couldn’t sit on a horse. Why don’t I just come home with you?’

  ‘Because,’ Lizzie said, ‘it’s all arranged – and anyway, Mum would be devastated.’

  Mrs Bennet, who had initially been panic-stricken at the news of Jane’s fall and threatened to come home that very instant, had calmed down considerably when Lizzie announced that Mrs Bingley was insisting that Jane spent the night at Netherfield.

  ‘For one thing,’ Vanessa had told Lizzie firmly, ‘it’s because of us that poor Jane had the accident in the first place, and secondly, what if she had a relapse in the night? You can’t be too careful and you don’t want the responsibility on your shoulders. I insist.’

  When Lizzie had related all this to her mother, Mrs Bennet had almost purred with satisfaction. ‘This could be the making of our relationship with the Bingleys,’ she had said. ‘And so useful, coming at this time.’

  ‘What are you on about, Mum?’ Lizzie had sighed.

  ‘Drew’s visit, of course,’ her mother replied. ‘If we play our cards right, Charlie and – oh, the other young man, whatever his name is – talks with a plum in his mouth . . .’

  ‘James.’

  ‘Yes, well, those two can take him out and about. Keep him out of our hair.’

  ‘Mum, it’s nothing to do with them.’

  ‘Be good for Drew to see the circles we move in – that Felicity was always bragging about the people she knew – and besides, we could make things very unpleasant for the Bingleys – not that we would, but they don’t know that.’

  At which point Lizzie had brought the conversation to an abrupt halt under the pretext of having to speak to the doctor.

  ‘Well,’ Jane sighed as they collected her discharge letter from the nurses’ station and headed for the exit, ‘couldn’t you stay at Netherfield too?’

  ‘No, p . . . please,’ Meredith stammered, her face creased in a frown that sent her glasses shooting down her nose.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Lizzie assured her. ‘Meredith hasn’t been invited, and I don’t blame her for not wanting to be in the house on her own.’

  She knew that despite coming across as a pompous pain a lot of the time, Meredith was scared of three things: global warming, food additives and the dark.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot about the twins being away,’ Jane sighed, as a silver Mercedes with an anxious-looking Vanessa Bingley at the wheel pulled into the hospital forecourt and stopped in front of a No Parking sign. ‘OK – but first thing tomorrow, I’m coming home, no matter what.’

  ‘So when did you last eat?’ Vanessa demanded of Lizzie as she accelerated out of the hospital entrance.

  ‘Um – c
an’t remember,’ Lizzie admitted, suddenly conscious of the hollowness of her stomach now that Jane was OK.

  ‘I guessed as much,’ Vanessa nodded. ‘Well, you’ll eat with us. I say us – not me, of course, because I’m off out to my dramatic society rehearsal – Abigail’s Party, such fun!’

  ‘Honestly, it’s very kind, but there’s no need,’ Lizzie began, as Meredith caught her eye and pulled a face. ‘It’s too hot to eat much anyway.’

  ‘I’m not listening,’ declared Vanessa. ‘My lot are barbecuing and what’s an extra sausage one way or the other?’

  She raised a hand as Lizzie opened her mouth to protest further.

  ‘And now then, I meant to ask. Are any of you any good with paint?’

  ‘Well, what else could I say?’ Jane demanded, while Mrs Bingley had parked and popped into the village shop for a bottle of wine. ‘Mum is arty and she’d be in her element.’

  ‘Designing backdrops?’ Lizzie queried and then sighed. ‘More importantly, being let loose with this am-dram lot? Can’t you just see her? She can’t do two hours at a party without being a total embarrassment!’

  ‘Lizzie, lighten up,’ Jane said, wincing slightly and running her hand across her forehead.

  ‘Oh God, are you OK?’ Lizzie gasped. ‘Have you got a headache? Do you feel sick? The doctor said —’

  ‘No, but I’ve just remembered,’ Jane said. ‘The school concert – it’s tonight and you should be there. I’ve wrecked it for you.’

  ‘You’re more important,’ Lizzie assured her. ‘I’ve done all the important stuff. I was only going to be there to help the kids get made up – and there are plenty of other people around to do that.’

  She eyed Jane anxiously, desperate not to let her disappointment at missing the concert show on her face.

  ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Jane replied. ‘Just tired. And wishing I didn’t have to face Caroline and Charlie tonight. Trouble is, I bet they feel just the same about me.’

  As Lizzie dashed up the stairs at their house to collect Jane’s pyjamas and wash bag, her mobile, stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans, began to vibrate.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was Emily.

  ‘I’ve done it, oh my God, I’ve done it,’ she gabbled. ‘And I so have to know what he’s thinking, but I daren’t call, because I’ve got to help out at the concert, so, like, if you phone him and kind of ask . . .’

  ‘Emily, what the hell are you talking about?’ Lizzie demanded, wedging the phone between her ear and her left shoulder and rummaging in Jane’s chest of drawers.

  ‘Toby, silly!’ Emily replied. ‘I’ve emailed an invite to my party, right? I tried to make it sound kind of mysterious, only now I’m not sure —’

  ‘I can’t talk now, Emily,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘Bit of a crisis – that’s why I wasn’t at the concert. You see, Jane’s —’

  ‘Oh, right. So not only do you disappear and not let me know where you are, but now you’re saying you don’t want to help me. You don’t want him, but no one else can have him, is that it? Well, stuff you!’

  ‘Emily!’ Lizzie shouted. ‘Will you just —?’

  But Emily had hung up.

  The idea of a barbecue had bitten the dust within minutes of the girls arriving at Netherfield. The heavy stillness of the late afternoon had given way to a stiff breeze, then to a few raindrops and by the time they had reached the front door, the distant rumble of thunder announced the arrival of the storm that the Met Office had been predicting for days. Within minutes, rain was cascading off the conservatory roof and dripping from the huge umbrella on the terrace. As a result, supper had been cooked in the Aga and they had all eaten round the kitchen table. Charlie sat next to Jane and at least twice, Lizzie spotted his hand reaching for her sister’s and noticed the way Jane coloured as their eyes met.

  Whether it was the effect of the large glass of white wine Charlie had pressed on her, or the embarrassment of Meredith’s constant enquiries as to why the Bingleys didn’t have more low energy light bulbs in their vast kitchen, by nine o’clock Lizzie was feeling rather guilty. For one thing, Caroline, far from being the snooty little madam of the previous weekend, seemed genuinely upset and concerned about Jane, to the point of recounting several occasions when she herself had fallen off horses and saying it was all the fault of the driver of the combine and nothing to do with Jane’s ability as a horsewoman. Charlie had taken the trouble to fish out a whole pile of Countryside Today magazines for Meredith, and Mrs Bingley, prior to dashing off to her rehearsal, had insisted on phoning Lizzie’s parents to reassure them that Jane was in safe hands. They were, she decided, a lot nicer as a family than she had first thought.

  Which was more than could be said for James. About James, she knew she’d been right from the start. At supper, he had hardly said more than two words, and paid more attention to the family’s three dogs – a bouncy red setter and two flat coat retrievers – than to any of the human visitors; and on three separate occasions, Lizzie had caught him staring at her through narrowed eyes, his upper lip curled in a sardonic half-smile that suggested he found her hugely amusing in a patronising sort of way. She had a huge urge to thump him between the eyes.

  The moment the meal was over, he had got up and without a word left the room, shutting the door into what Lizzie assumed was the sitting room firmly behind him. Caroline, spotting Jane desperately trying to suppress a yawn, had insisted, not only on taking her upstairs to the guest room, but waiting outside the bathroom in case she felt faint while taking a shower. Charlie had taken Meredith down the garden to see the new wildflower wilderness and bug boxes that their conservation-mad gardener had recently installed.

  Which left Lizzie momentarily on her own.

  Why she immediately got up from the table and walked through to the sitting room, she had no idea. Later, she tried to convince herself that it was because she had heard the music, but that wasn’t true; it wasn’t until she pushed open the door that she heard the strains of a crystal-clear soprano voice singing. For a moment, it seemed that the vast room, furnished with deep sofas, antique occasional tables and, in the far corner, a baby grand piano, was empty; but then, turning towards the double doors that led on to the terrace, she saw him. James was standing with his back to her, his forehead pressed against the glass, motionless.

  For an instant, she just stood and looked at him. His hair curled into the nape of his neck, his shorts were tight across his bum and the backs of his legs had a hint of sunburn. For some reason, this pleased her hugely – an even suntan would have been just too perfect.

  The track on the CD came to an end, and James turned, caught sight of her, and stood for a second as if in freeze-frame.

  ‘That’s a beautiful song,’ Lizzie said, embarrassed by her own intrusion. ‘I’ve not heard that setting before – but I did sing the Rutter version at a concert last month.’

  James’s eyes widened. ‘You sing? What, classical stuff like this? Really?’

  Again, that note of disbelief and incredulity, which rankled even more than his unspoken suggestion that classical music was so much more worthwhile than any other kind.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she replied. ‘And I play the French horn and the piano – funnily enough, even state-school kids can enjoy music – isn’t that amazing?’

  ‘OK, can we sort this?’ James said. ‘I’m sorry if what I said about your school annoyed you, but believe me, I had my reasons. It’s just that – well, I had some pretty grim experiences at the hands of state-school kids.’

  ‘And because of that, you label all of us?’

  ‘I’ve apologised, haven’t I?’ he snapped. ‘Charlie thinks I’m a snob, but I’m not. Things have happened to make me feel like I do – and once I’ve made up my mind about something, that’s it.’

  ‘That is so arrogant,’ Lizzie cried. ‘That’s like saying you’re never wrong.’

  ‘I’m not very o
ften,’ he said and then smiled ruefully. ‘So tell me – you sing in a choir?’

  ‘Two,’ Lizzie replied curtly. ‘School and church.’

  ‘And you liked the CD?’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘Beautiful,’ she said, grateful to change the subject before she said something she knew she’d end up regretting. ‘Can I see the case? I’d like to buy it.’

  ‘Well, actually, you can’t, because —’ James stopped in mid-sentence as the door burst open and Caroline came in.

  ‘There you are!’ she exclaimed, all semblance of friendliness evaporating as she glanced from James to Lizzie. ‘Jane’s going to bed. She wants to see you.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll go up and then we must leave,’ Lizzie replied pleasantly. She turned to James.

  ‘The title of the CD?’ she urged.

  ‘I’ll text you the details,’ James said evasively. ‘Good night.’

  Lizzie turned and walked from the room. As she pulled the door closed behind her, she caught Caroline’s words.

  ‘That girl is unbelievable! What a cheek, marching in here and bothering you.’

  What Lizzie didn’t hear, as she stomped upstairs, her blood boiling, was James’s reply.

  ‘Who said I was bothered?’

  ‘For someone who couldn’t wait to get home, you took your time,’ Lizzie teased Jane the following morning. ‘Mum’s just texted to say they’re at Milton Keynes – they’ll be here in half an hour.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Jane, you’ve got a soppy grin on your face. Go on, tell me all!’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Jane replied.

  ‘Jane!’

  ‘OK, so he’s lovely. I really, really like him, Lizzie.’ She sighed. ‘I mean, he’s not like other guys. I kind of don’t have to try with him. I can just be me. But . . .’ She paused.

  ‘But what? Sounds like a dream come true to me,’ Lizzie said laughing.

  ‘I felt like that about Simon, and look what happened there,’ Jane said. ‘Charlie’s probably just being polite and I’m reading too much into it.’