Chapter Nine

They found a quiet corner of the village pub, far enough away from the other drinkers that Lizzie, after hastily donning the dark wig she permanently kept in her handbag now, wouldn’t be noticed. Checking nobody was watching, she removed her sunglasses and waited while Nick fetched the drinks. A small beer for himself and a large glass of wine for her. She figured she deserved it. Shrugging off her jacket, she glanced around, the familiar surroundings sending prickles down her spine. She might have gone off to America almost as soon as she’d been old enough to drink in here, but still there were plenty of good times to remember. Nick’s sombre-looking face, on returning with the drinks, told her he was thinking the same.

‘Did you used to come in here a lot?’ she asked, taking a big gulp of wine.

He nodded, his eyes taking in the unchanged deep red walls and dark wood beams. ‘I think it’s fair to say Robert and I have drunk many a pint in here. Your father, too. We used to get together during the breaks from university. Robert and I would arrange to meet here, and your dad would sneak in later, telling us he was supposed to be walking the dog.’

Lizzie was amazed to find herself laughing. ‘Well, that explains why the poor thing grew so fat.’

For once Nick didn’t laugh with her. Instead he fiddled with one of the beer mats. ‘About the house. I know you wanted me to sell it, and at first I did try. But once I’d cleared out all the obvious stuff I knew you wouldn’t want, like the clothes, well … I couldn’t work out what to keep and what to discard. You’d said you didn’t want anything but …’ He sighed. ‘To be honest, I couldn’t bear to throw it away. I kept going back and each visit was slightly less painful. I started to think, what if she wants to buy a house in England one day? Surely she’d want something from her old home? Perhaps a mirror, or a table, her father’s chair.’

Lizzie placed a hand over his arm. ‘I was wrong,’ she told him softly. ‘It was unfair of me to ask you to do what I did. How could you possibly decide what I needed?’ She shook her head. ‘And you were right. At the time I was too numb with shock and grief to make any sort of rational decision. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing any of their things ever again. I just wanted it gone so I could try and look forward, not back.’

He sipped at his beer. ‘I do think it was important for you to come back here, Lizzie. Granted I should have warned you first—’

‘But then I might not have come,’ she added, cutting him off.

‘I would have made you, eventually.’

‘Oh, yes?’

He laughed. ‘I’m meaner now. Not the same pushover I used to be.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. You were never a pushover.’

‘I was where you were concerned.’ For several heart thumping moments he held her gaze and her heart began to dance. Wasn’t there more to his words, to his look, than those of a brother?

But then he stared back down at his beer and she knew she was reading too much into his simple statement. If he’d seen her as anything other than Robert’s kid sister, he’d have taken her up on her offer all those years ago. Maybe if she hadn’t gone to America, things would have been different, but she couldn’t dwell on that. During the last two years she’d spent too long running what if scenarios through her head. What if she hadn’t asked her parents to come and see her? What if she hadn’t sent them that limo but they’d got into a taxi instead?

All it did was magnify the pain and intensify the loss.

‘Who looks after the house?’ she asked after a while, speaking into the now awkward silence.

Nick finally raised his eyes from his glass. ‘I found a local couple happy to go over every week and check up on it. The husband sorts out the garden and the wife cleans inside and tends to the flowers.’ He shrugged awkwardly. ‘I didn’t want it slowly falling into disrepair. I always had in mind that at some point you’d come and see it, and then decide what you wanted to do with it.’

‘But how could you afford all this?’

His expression tightened. ‘I had the compensation money from my parents’ accident.’

She vaguely remembered being told they’d died from a faulty heater. ‘Didn’t you have it earmarked for anything else?’

‘For a long while I didn’t want to touch it. Profiting from their death …’ He grimaced. ‘… it seemed wrong.’

‘But it wasn’t like that. The money was to try and make up for their death.’ Even as she said the words, she realised she knew where he was coming from. No money could ever come close to helping.

‘I didn’t need it. I already had their London place, and my salary can easily cover the mortgage on the barn.’

‘What about your sister? Isn’t the London home half hers, too?’

‘We did a deal. Charlotte had our aunt and uncle’s place when they died, and I kept our parents’ home.’ He raised his eyes to hers. ‘She was too young to remember them but I wanted to keep something of theirs to keep my memories alive.’

Finally she became aware of what an incredible thing he’d done for her. It wasn’t what she’d asked, but he’d anticipated that what she’d asked of him, and what she’d needed, were two different things. Money, as he’d demonstrated, wasn’t important. Memories were.

‘Nick, I said some harsh things earlier, things I regret. What you’ve done, buying the house, looking after it … I … oh heck, I’m going to cry again.’ She wiped at the tears hovering on her lashes. ‘I should have thanked you, not yelled at you.’

Surprise flashed across his face. ‘Are you telling me I really did do the right thing, after all? Because I can tell you, I’ve gone to hell and back in my own mind, wondering if I wasn’t making a colossal mistake. Especially when I saw you crying your heart out on the bed.’

‘Well, the way you communicated the whole thing to me was a bit of a dog’s breakfast.’

‘Accepted.’

‘But, yes, on the whole, though it kills me to admit it, you definitely did the right thing.’

A broad smile spread across his face, lighting up his chocolate-brown eyes, slashing a groove down his cheeks. ‘Well, hell, who’d have thought it?’ Still shaking his head in bemusement, he raised his glass. ‘Let’s drink to that.’

Hand on her glass, she hesitated. ‘You will sell it back to me?’

He touched his glass with hers. ‘Of course. For the right price.’

For the briefest of moments she froze, staring at his deadpan face. But then the laughter shone in his eyes and she relaxed. ‘I bet I can make you an offer you can’t refuse.’

His eyes held hers, though some of the laughter faded. ‘I bet you can.’

The rest of the day was much less traumatic. They revisited the house, together this time, and Lizzie’s heart actually lightened as they talked through shared memories. Though the band of guilt remained firmly in place – something she would always have to live with – it felt as though the constraints of grief had loosened, freeing her slightly. With Nick’s help, the horror and blame were pushed into the background for a while and she was able to remember happier times. Sitting in her father’s chair, tears falling freely down her face, felt strangely comforting. Looking through old photograph albums was poignant, yet fun. For the first time since the accident she spent time appreciating what she’d had, rather than focussing on what had been taken away.

‘You know maybe sometime we’ll have a day together when I don’t burst into tears at some point,’ she remarked as they ate pizza that evening. Takeaway, her treat. That weight she’d lost was definitely coming back. Soon she’d have to get on those flipping scales.

Nick scooped up another slice, ignoring the cheese running down his chin. It made her smile. He was so grounded. Unconcerned with the trivial things that so many of her male friends obsessed about. Designer labels, how his hair was styled, whether his face looked tired/sallow/more wrinkled than yesterday.

‘I’m not unused to women crying on me,’ he said, bringing her back to their conversation. ‘In fact, it’s the tearful ones who seem to hunt me out.’

‘Maybe your broad shoulders make us feel you can carry our burdens.’

It was the tiniest of compliments, but she was interested to see a slight flush appear on his cheeks.

‘Or maybe I just have sucker scrawled across my forehead.’

Her attention snared, she snuggled back on the sofa. ‘Come on then, how many women have cried on you, before me?’

His eyebrows nearly scooted off his forehead. ‘You can’t be serious. I’m sure we can find something more interesting to talk about.’

‘Oh no, don’t disappoint me now. You know how we women love a good sob story.’

He winced. ‘Bad joke. Really bad. Anyway, if we have to discuss tears, how about other men you’ve cried on?’

Lizzie waved her slice of pizza at him. ‘No way are you turning the tables on me. I asked first.’

He let out a resigned sigh. ‘Okay, let me see. At university there was a girl called Anne. She was definite fruitcake material. Her parents were splitting up while we were together. Trust me, there wasn’t anything I didn’t know about that divorce.’

Putting her empty plate down on the coffee table, Lizzie smiled at him. ‘That’s part of your trouble. You’re too good at listening. Not many men do.’

‘Maybe I’ve not got anything interesting to say.’

‘Ah, poor Cinderella, Nick, eh?’

He flinched. ‘Thanks.’

‘Hey, come on, I was kidding.’ He didn’t really think he was boring, did he? ‘I love to hear you talk. If I’ve got a complaint, it’s that you don’t do it enough. Which is why I’m determined to squeeze information out of you while I’ve got you on a roll. So, other women who’ve cried on you.’

Nick cast his eyes over the remaining slice of pizza, but his stomach didn’t fancy it any more. Lizzie was right – he didn’t like talking about himself. Compared to a lot of people he led a pretty dull life. But compared to Lizzie? He was, as she’d so eloquently put it, like flaming Cinderella. As for this topic – women who’d cried on him? – he bet she didn’t discuss this type of crap with any of her showbiz men. ‘Well, I guess we’d have to include your mother,’ he told her, taking peevish pleasure from her shock. Well, she had asked.

‘My mother?’

Of course now he wished he’d kept his gobby mouth shut. ‘It was soon after you’d left to go to New York. She’d just had a letter from you when I came to visit. I guess I was handy.’

‘Wow. That must have been a moment for you.’

‘Actually, it was one of the only times I’ve been pleased to have a woman cry over me. She wasn’t really upset, just missing you. The fact that she felt comfortable enough to let me hug her, well, it made me feel like I was really part of the family.’ Now he sounded pathetic, yet when he dared to glance at Lizzie, her eyes were full of understanding.

‘You never really talked about your other life when we were kids. You know, the one you spent in your real home with your aunt and uncle. I always got the impression from Mum that you didn’t get on with them much. Was that right?’

How the blazes had he got onto this subject? ‘They preferred my sister, if that’s what you mean.’ Only eighteen months old when their parents had died, Charlotte had been the apple of their aunt and uncle’s eye. Nick, a rapidly growing boy, old enough to remember his real parents, had been a complication his guardians hadn’t bothered to try and understand.

‘Mum always looked upon you as her second son, Nick,’ she told him softly. ‘I know she did.’

He felt his eyes prick and bit the inside of his cheek. He was not going to make a fool of himself in front of her. ‘I miss them more than I thought I would,’ he finally confessed. ‘To lose one set of parents is bad luck. To lose two.’ Shit, he was choking up. Swiftly he rose to his feet and legged it into the kitchen. There he grabbed at the tea towel, wiped his eyes and took a quick slug of water.

When he returned she eyed him watchfully but thankfully didn’t comment on what she could read in his face. ‘Do you remember much of your real parents?’ she asked instead.

Wearily he collapsed back onto the sofa. He wanted to tell her he’d had enough of this conversation, but he’d probed into her private life enough over the last few days. He couldn’t object now the tables were turned. ‘Not as much as I’d like. Dad was a giant of a man, but soft-hearted. I don’t remember him ever raising his voice to me. Mum was a typical mum, I guess. She liked to cook, maybe that’s where I get it from, and hugged a lot.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I missed that, more than anything. Aunt Sarah didn’t hug me once. I think she thought I was too big for that sort of thing.’

Before he knew it, Lizzie had climbed off the armchair and was sitting next to him, wrapping him in her slender arms. ‘That’s to help make up for what you missed out on,’ she told him, squeezing him firmly. ‘Perhaps that’s why you’re such a great hugger. You know how much it really means. So, any more women who’ve cried on you?’

Nick had stopped listening. His mind was back in that cold, sparsely furnished house he’d lived in with his aunt and uncle. Childless themselves, they were older than his parents had been, and set in their ways. Clearly having a pair of kids dumped on them had meant a lot of adjustments. He guessed he should be grateful they’d taken to Charlotte, at least. Still, the lack of love, support, even affection, had made life pretty bleak. Even worse had been the snide remarks, the continuous undermining of anything he’d ever achieved. If he’d come second, why wasn’t he first? If he was first, why had he dropped those three marks? He wasn’t trying hard enough. God, it was no wonder at times he was an insecure screw up. And then, to top it all, when his uncle had become aware of his obsession with Lizzie, there had been the incredulous laughter. What are you thinking, boy? You’ve got no hope there. Just look at yourself. Nothing his uncle had ever said had hurt more than that. Probably because, even then, he’d been aware of the truth in the words.

Amazingly though, that very same girl, now a stunning young woman, was at this moment holding onto him as if she’d never let him go. She smelt so wonderful, like blossom in the spring, and she felt even better. Nestled against him, soft and warm, she felt so bloody fantastic he’d happily freeze the moment and stay like this forever. But he couldn’t, and any minute now his body was going to betray the far from brotherly feelings he was experiencing.

On the pretext of clearing up the pizza boxes, he reluctantly eased her away. ‘I think it’s your turn,’ he countered when he’d deposited them by the front door and filled up both their wine glasses. ‘Men you’ve cried on, or men who’ve cried on you. Take your pick.’

Lizzie curled her feet up under her and stared at the rim of the wine glass. ‘I’ve not had any men cry on me, not unless you count Tommy Potter in the second year of primary school.’

‘What did you do to him? Break his heart because you wouldn’t kiss him?’

‘Nope. I accidentally broke his Action Man. He wouldn’t stop blubbering and I felt so guilty I tried to console him. It was like hugging a toad.’

Nick laughed. ‘Okay, how about men you’ve cried on?’

‘My dad, countless times. Robert, when Dad wasn’t around.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘Sorry, but the only other man I’ve cried on has been you.’

‘You must be really happy then, living the American dream,’ he replied quietly.

‘I didn’t say there hadn’t been tears. Just that I hadn’t cried on anyone else.’ Before he had a chance to wonder why not, she was talking again. ‘But to answer your question, yes, I am happy. At least I was. I enjoy my work. I know it sounds shallow to someone like you, but I get a buzz from being in front of a camera. One I couldn’t possibly begin to explain.’

‘What do you mean, someone like me?’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Wow, you’re really going to make me say this? I mean someone intelligent.’

‘A degree doesn’t make me more intelligent than you, Lizzie. It just means I went on to study, while you went out to work.’

‘If you can call what I do work, eh?’ He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. ‘It’s okay, it doesn’t feel like work to me, either, which is what I love about it. I get paid silly sums of money to travel the world, meet amazing people from all walks of life and work with hugely talented designers, making their creations come alive for them. It’s an incredible feeling. I’m also starting to toy with acting.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘But you don’t want to start me on that subject, not at this time of night. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to hit the sack. I’m shattered.’

Nick watched her go upstairs but stayed where he was, gazing broodingly into the flames that flickered through the window of the stove. When she’d spoken of her modelling, her eyes had lit up for the first time since she’d been here. A stark reminder that as soon as her name was cleared, she’d be off. Back to where she belonged in the glitz and glamour of LA.

Lurching to his feet, he went to take his disappointment and frustration out on the fire.