Chapter 27

CHASTITY

I check my appearance in the mirror at the top of the stairs as Flynn stands behind me with an expression that’s a little smug.

‘What are you smiling about?’

‘I reckon that was good enough for twins.’

‘Pardon?’ I turn my head to look at him rather than his reflection, his own eyes falling over my body as greedy as his hands earlier.

‘I think I fucked you so solidly, you’ll be good for twins. Twins at least.’

I tilt my head to the side as I push up onto my toes to pat his cheek. ‘Aw. Did you little Flynnie miss the reproductive talk at school?’

‘Yeah, I did. I was probably a little too busy to make that class on account of fucking some chick behind the gym.’

‘Do you miss Australia?’ I find myself suddenly asking.

‘Sometimes. Family mostly, but I love living in London. Besides, I won’t be making plans to relocate until you’ve had our twins. You know, so I can steal them away back in the dead of night and move them to Sydney.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ I say as he takes my hand, and we turn to the stairs.

‘Nah. What would be the fun in that?’

Paisley’s brows lift as Flynn and I enter the room together. She sends me a look that speaks volumes and causes my cheeks to heat instantly. We make our way to the makeshift bar because, twins or not—and it’s most likely to be not—this woman needs a drink. I’ve no idea how long we were gone, and I’m beginning to wonder who was outside the door, and who else, if anyone, heard. So I’ll just finish my G and T before facing anyone.

‘Some one ring an ambulance!’ Hillary comes rushing into the room, his red hair sticking up all over and red lipstick smeared over his face. My first instinct is that this must be some kind of prank. If someone has hired me a paramedic striper-gram to give me mouth to mouth, I’m going to junk punch someone. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Chas, come quick. Your Aunty Cam has taken ill.’

I follow Hills out of the room, my heart beating against my ribcage. Cam can’t be ill. She still goes to the gym twice a week and does Callanetics, for goodness’ sake. Out through the kitchen, Hills steps out onto the patio and I immediately know what she was doing out here. Smoking. She used to have a twenty-a-day habit but swore last year she’d kicked that habit well and truly in the butt, pun intended.

‘Camilla! Camilla! Come on, lovely!’ Stephen—Avery’s—sequinned frock is all I can see. Then I see her legs between his, her body slumped in the chair.

‘Aunt Cam!’ I place my hand on her grey cheek and lightly tap. ‘Come on, darling. Open your eyes.’

Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

I feel like a fist is squeezing my heart as horror, sickness, and fear wash through me, making my head pound and my vision blurry.

‘We’re were just kissing—p’ My head snaps up. ‘No! Not me and her—me and Avery, when she sort of staggered into the chair, complaining of pains in her arms. The next thing, she slumped in her seat.’ Hills words are frantic, his hands clutching his arms as though cold

‘Stop shouting,’ Camilla murmurs, though doesn’t open her eyes. ‘I’m not dead yet.’

‘Thank Christ!’ I let out a breath. ‘You gave us all a fright.’

‘Gave you a fright? Darling, she says, her lashes fluttering heavily. ‘I think I’ve wet myself.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The upholstery will wash.’ I rub her arms, tentative relief showing in the form of the tears balancing on the rims of my eyes.

‘Bugger the upholstery,’ she says, suddenly clutching her chest. ‘This suit is Chanel!’

‘Ambulance is on its way,’ Flynn says, his hand a comforting weight on my back.

‘But she’s awake.’ Even as I say the words, I’m not exactly sure of their significance. know she’s not out of the woods yet. The pallor of her skin and the heat on her forehead is terrifying.

Flynn steps around me, taking Camilla’s wrist between his fingertips. ‘She should have some aspirin,’ he asserts.

‘That’s very kind of you, Cary,’ she says, speaking through laboured breath. ‘But I’d rather have a glass of brandy.’

‘I’ll get the aspirin,’ Paisley says, dashing off in the direction of the kitchen. In the commotion, I hadn’t even realised she was here.

‘We’ll save you a glass for after the paramedics have checked you over,’ Flynn asserts.

‘Her breathing.’ I turn my head towards Flynn, not letting go of her hand, and lower my voice to a whisper. ‘It sounds awful.’

‘Don’t speak about me as though I can’t hear, dear. If it sounds awful, you should try experiencing it.’ With a pained wince, she tightens her grip on her chest.

This is so awful. ‘What can we do?’

‘Help will be here soon.’ Flynn wraps his arm around my back, his solid presence a reassurance I’ll be eternally grateful for.

‘Here, aspirin.’ Paisley thrusts it into the hand of Flynn, the obvious authority amongst our motley crew. The pornographer, the makeup assistant, the drag queen. Moments later, Keir arrives outside with a blanket in his hand as Flynn instructs that Camilla should chew, not swallow, as she send him a withering look.

‘The last time I tasted something so awful,’ she mumbles, her expression one of person trying to swallow chalk, ‘was when you were twelve, and you persuaded me to buy you lunch in that awful Scottish hamburger chain.’

‘Stop talking now,’ Flynn says kindly.

‘I do like a commanding man.’ Though she’s full of complaints and pluck, I suddenly realise it’s an act for my benefit.

I being to cry, great silent tears falling down my cheeks, my chest feeling like it hasn’t the space to accommodate the thunder of my heart.

Paramedics arrive, and Camilla is assessed, blood pressure and heart rhythm, before being hooked up to preventative medication and oxygen and God only knows what, before being loaded into an ambulance.

‘I’ll follow you,’ Flynn says, as I become part of the entourage on the way out of the door.

‘No, you’ve been drinking,’ I reply.

‘Barely,’ he protests.

‘I don’t want to worry about you having an accident tonight, please.’

‘I’ll follow,’ says Paisley.

‘Flynn and I will sort it out here,’ adds Keir. ‘Don’t worry about anything.’

Truthfully, the house could burn down for all I care. So long as I get to keep Camilla for a few more years, I bargain with God.

Flynn kisses me once, fiercely, turning me in the direction of the open door. ‘I’ll be here when you get back. Go.’

So I follow the complaints of ‘It had better be the Chelsea and Westminster hospital we’re going to,’ out the door.