Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lizzie liked to think that in the end, when he’d taken his final breath, Robert had known she and Nick were there with him. For all the times he’d been there for her, this was at least one thing she’d managed to do for him.

Now she was watching as the red velvet curtains in the crematorium were carefully pulled shut. The next time she would see Robert, he would be in an urn, his ashes ready to be taken back to England and scattered next to her parents’ grave. Later she knew she’d feel some sort of relief that his terrible ordeal was finally over, but for now there was only grief. It wasn’t the all-consuming agony she’d felt two years earlier, when she’d buried her parents. This time her grief was more hollow. Robert had gone, and with him the last remaining member of her once close, happy family. Even now, at his funeral, she couldn’t help but think of what might have been if she hadn’t insisted on going to America to model. If she’d gone to university in England instead, taken up a good, steady job like a teacher, would she still have them with her? Would Robert be alive, married, perhaps even a father? Anguish ripped through her and she had to shut her eyes against the pain.

A hand squeezed hers. ‘Are you okay?’

Nick’s kind eyes were filled with concern. She took in a shaky breath and nodded her head. With him by her side, she did almost feel okay. He’d been a tower of strength during the dark two days since Robert’s death. It was Nick who’d listed out what needed to be done, made the phone calls, advised on the service, held her when she’d broken down. Charlotte had helped, too, perhaps in more ways than she could’ve guessed. Having her with them had been a welcome bridge between her and Nick. Without Charlotte it might have been awkward. With her they were simply three close friends, coping as best they could through a difficult time.

After saying a final goodbye to Robert, they walked out into the sunlight.

‘Come on, let’s go out for lunch.’ Nick tugged at her hand, pulling her towards the car he’d hired. ‘Robert would have hated to see us so damned morose.’

He drove to a quiet place high in the hills. Lizzie put on her dark glasses, swept her blonde hair into her large black hat, and followed him and Charlotte into the restaurant. There, for a few precious hours, she relaxed. She’d even go as far as to say she had fun as they reminisced about their childhood. Nick made her laugh with tales of him and Robert, some of which she’d never heard before. But then, all too soon, it was time to leave.

‘Nick, be a darling and drop me off first please?’ Charlotte yawned as she climbed back into the car. ‘I’m pooped.’

‘Lightweight.’ But he did as she asked and then it was just her and Nick arriving back at her apartment.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked as he parked in the underground car park.

‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee.’

Wordlessly they travelled up in the lift. Without the buffer of Charlotte, the tension rose steadily between them and Lizzie found it harder and harder to breathe.

By the time the lift opened, she almost ran out, hastily unlocking her front door and retreating into the kitchen. There she shrugged off her jacket and grabbed at the kettle. She was reaching out to turn on the tap when Nick put his hand on her wrist.

‘When did these happen?’ he asked in a low, controlled voice, looking down at her bruises.

Damn. She’d taken care to wear long sleeves and keep them covered these last few days. ‘A while ago.’

A muscle in his jaw jumped. ‘How?’

She snatched her arm away. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters,’ he repeated with deceptive softness. ‘Tell me how you got them, Lizzie.’

‘I was held a little too roughly. I told him and he let go.’ It was near enough to the truth.

‘Who?’

His eyes weren’t warm or kind any more. They were hard. ‘None of your business,’ she snapped, focussing on filling the kettle. She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever. And certainly not with Nick.

‘When someone hurts a woman I care about, it is my business,’ he told her quietly. When he could see she wasn’t going to tell him, his jaw clenched. ‘Was it Hank?’

Lizzie’s head jerked, just a small movement, but enough to affirm Nick’s suspicion. His gut twisted as he imagined what Hank must have been trying to do that required him to hold her so tightly it bruised her skin. With an oath he moved away and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Have you got any idea how hard it is to watch you demeaning yourself with this procession of arrogant pricks?’

She flinched from his words but looked at him squarely. ‘It’s my life,’ she retorted, anger simmering in her big blue eyes.

‘Yes, but don’t expect me to sit back and watch you mess it up,’ he asserted bluntly. ‘You look like hell.’

‘My brother’s just died, how do you expect me to look?’ Her anger was no longer simmering but boiling over.

‘Robert effectively died a long time ago.’ His sympathy was in short supply, now he’d seen the bruises. ‘There’s more to all this than his death. First there was Charles. Now Hank. Even before Charles, that list you gave me suggested a type, and it wasn’t the kind you’d want to take home to your mother.’

Her eyes flared. ‘Lucky I don’t have a mother then.’

He ignored her. ‘She’d be horrified, and you know it. You’re letting these guys treat you like shit. Why?’

‘Perhaps it’s what I deserve,’ she replied in a voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it.

‘What you deserve?’ Incredulity had him almost shouting at her.

‘Yes, what I deserve.’ Her voice was stronger now and she was walking towards him, hands on her hips, eyes blazing. ‘I killed Robert. I killed all of them. Now tell me I don’t deserve to be punished.’

He stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Is that really what you believe?’

‘Yes.’ It came out as a tortured cry. Then she shoved at him. ‘Now go away and leave me alone.’

Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but Lizzie was glaring at him with such torment in her eyes, he knew she did. She believed every awful word she was saying. With his heart feeling like lead, he moved to put his arms around her, but she backed away.

‘No, don’t touch me.’ Her voice started to break. ‘Piss off.’

‘Like hell.’ More roughly than he’d have liked, because she was still trying to get away from him, Nick wrapped his arms around her and held her. Held her until she stopped trying to break free and finally started to cry.

Then he lifted her and carried her over to the sofa and held her again, just as he had all those months ago when he’d found her here.

‘The driver of the other car killed them,’ he told her firmly. ‘Were you driving it?’

She glanced up, irritation written across her gorgeous tear-stained face. ‘Don’t try your fancy logic with me. I was the reason they were in that car. I was the one who phoned them, terribly homesick and pleaded with them to come and see me. If I hadn’t begged them to come, they wouldn’t have been anywhere near the damn car.’

‘And why do you think they came running when you called them?’

‘Because I asked them to.’

He shook his head, smoothing a hand down her soft blonde hair. ‘No, Lizzie. Because they loved you. Do you seriously think they’d want to see you like this? Blaming yourself for their deaths? Is that truly what you believe?’

When she didn’t answer he held his breath and hugged her closer. ‘Have you ever talked to anyone else about this?’ he asked.

Silently she shook her head.

‘Then it’s time you did. Bottling up this awful guilt for these last two years has made you unable to think straight. You’ve forgotten how much your mum and dad loved you. How much Robert loved you. They’d want you to be happy, not tormented by a totally misplaced sense of responsibility for what happened.’

Slowly Lizzie absorbed his words, feeling an incredible sense of relief that at last she’d voiced her anguish out loud. Nick hadn’t done any of the things she’d feared – not condemned her, shouted at her stupidity or laughed at her. He’d simply come back at her with quiet understanding and reasoned argument. For the first time since the accident she took herself out of the equation and tried to see things as her parents would have. There was no doubt in her mind that seeing their beloved daughter riddled with guilt, punishing herself for her selfishness, wasn’t what her family would have wanted. They’d done nothing but support her in her desire to become a model and in her move to America. Heck, how often had they told her how proud they were of what she’d achieved? How could she have forgotten that?

But would they still be proud of her now? Her career, yes. Her lapse with Charles, definitely not. Perhaps it was time for her to stop torturing herself. At the very least, it was time to try.

‘When do you go back?’ she asked after a while, aware she was still nestled against his chest but far too secure to move away just yet.

‘Tomorrow evening.’

‘Have you any plans for the day?’

‘No. Why?’

It felt silly to be this nervous about asking. ‘Would you mind spending some of it with me?’

She felt his chest shake a little and looked up to find he was laughing softly. ‘Who else do you think we’d planned to spend it with?’

And now she felt even more silly, though it was tempered with a bubble of happiness. She might have said goodbye to her own family, but for another day at least she’d still feel she belonged to someone.

The next day Nick said he didn’t mind where they went, as long as it wasn’t the places the tourists always went to. Charlotte said she wanted to do all the tourist favourites: the pier, the drive through Beverley Hills to see the actors’ homes, the Hollywood walk of fame. The craziness of Venice beach. Lizzie laughed and went to get her wig. She knew who’d win out of that argument.

Later that afternoon, as she walked down the pier with her arms threaded through each of theirs, Lizzie felt lighter, more carefree than she could remember feeling for a long time. Even knowing they would later be getting on a plane didn’t crush her like she thought it might. Following her confession to Nick she felt she’d turned a corner.

It didn’t mean there weren’t tears in her eyes when she dropped them off at the airport. She hugged Charlotte first, noticing how she then stood back, giving her and Nick some space.

‘So.’ He gazed at her, his dark eyes giving hers a careful study.

She smiled. ‘So. Here we are again.’

‘Will you promise to talk to someone? See a psychiatrist, or shrink as I believe you Yanks call them?’

‘I might live over here but I’m English through and through.’ His expression told her that she hadn’t answered his question, so she touched a hand to his face and said the words she knew he wanted to hear. ‘I promise.’

‘I’m going to check up on you,’ he warned.

‘I hope so.’

Seemingly satisfied, he gave her one last hug before picking up both his and Charlotte’s bags and disappearing into the terminal building.

It was only on the drive back that Lizzie began to realise that from this point on her life could change, if she wanted it to. With no more huge medical bills for Robert’s care, the need to earn as much money as she could had disappeared. She could stop modelling; take a risk on a new career path. Perhaps try out acting.

And, she thought with a flutter of longing, she no longer had to stay in LA. She could even return to England.

There was a world of possibilities opening up for her, if she was brave enough to take them.