Cathy Kelly 3-Book Collection 1: Lessons in Heartbreak, Once in a Lifetime, Homecoming. Cathy KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
much of a coward to wait for her, yet there he was: tall and concerned, not looking like the cheater he was.
‘Lily, please let me explain –’
‘Don’t touch me!’ she hissed at him, spitting fire.
‘I wanted to tell you –’
‘Keep away. I never want to see you again as long as I live.’
She ran up the back stairs and into the dining room where Diana, darling Diana, was waiting for her. There was no sign of Sybil. The rest of the party must have gone down the main stairs to the front door.
‘I’m so sorry, Diana, I don’t feel well. I’m going back to the nurses’ home.’
‘What?’ Diana was stunned. They had arranged with the Home Sister to stay in South Audley Street for the night: a special dispensation that had required a week of wheedling. And now Lily wanted to go back to their tiny little room in Cubitt Street.
‘Please,’ begged Lily, looking anguished. ‘I’m sorry.’ She grabbed her small handbag and fled through another door, thanking her lucky stars that this house was so enormous, like a palatial warren. She made it upstairs to the bedroom she’d planned to share with Diana, then shut and locked the door. She didn’t turn on the light but sat on the bed in the darkness, waiting in case Jamie came looking for her. Hopefully, if he asked Diana, she’d make him think Lily had gone back to the nurses’ home. So she’d be safe here. Safe to lie on the bed, feeling the twin fires of shame and pain, and let the tears flood down her cheeks. She heard the huge front door slam shut. That was it, then: he was gone from her life for ever and she could try to forget the white-hot heat of passion and how it had felt. She never had to think of Lieutenant Jamie Hamilton ever again.
There was nothing more beautiful than the sight of New York’s skyscrapers soaring into the sky on a sunny morning, Izzie decided as she sat in the back of the cab. She loved New York, even loved this patchouli-scented cab with its dangling beads that rattled off every surface like mini-castanets for the entire trip.
The city spoke of fresh starts – it was impossible to come here without starting again, without thinking of reinvention. In New York, you could be anyone you wanted to be.
And from now on, Izzie vowed, she was going to be a totally different person from the Izzie Silver of three weeks ago.
She’d thought about it on the long flight across the Atlantic, hemmed in beside two chatty German girls on their first trip to America.
They were going to see so much, do so much, and Izzie naturally thought of herself ten years ago and her plans. What exactly had she done in those ten years but get caught up in the sort of bullshit that was the same the world over – trying to fit in, trying to make money, trying to catch some impossible dream. Doing it, she’d lost sight of all the things that mattered, and she’d become a victim, tossed along on the storm.
She’d let everyone down: darling Mum, who’d wanted her to be happy; Dad, who thought only the best of her; and Gran, who’d taught her to be strong, honest and courageous. Dear Gran. It was hard to think of her lying in that hospital bed without any light or expression in her eyes. After three weeks in Tamarin, waiting for her to wake up again, Izzie had realised that her beloved grandmother might never wake up again.
But despite the pain of all the things left unsaid, Izzie knew she couldn’t fail Gran now. She’d start again in her life and do it all right this time. She had a second chance and she didn’t want to screw it up. The first change was going to be Joe. She’d been hoping for what could never happen and crying into her pillow when it didn’t. No more. It was over between them, but not with her as the wronged heroine, screeching pain at him. It would be over in a dignified manner.
Her apartment felt like an icebox when she opened the door. The air-conditioning was playing up again. Switching it off, she phoned the super to get him to look at her air-con unit, then opened the windows to let a little summer morning heat in.
By the time the super arrived, she’d unpacked, piled her dirty laundry into a bag for the launderette, and had stripped off her travelling clothes for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
‘Hey, Tony, thanks for coming so quickly.’
‘No problemo,’ Tony replied and set to work.
‘You want coffee?’
‘Yeah, cream no sugar, please.’
While the coffee brewed, Izzie clicked on her answering machine to pick up her messages.
There were a couple from friends she hadn’t got round to telling she was out of town, a cold call from a telemarketer, and one from Joe. He’d stopped phoning her cell phone when she was in Ireland after his first five calls went unanswered. This message was from last night.
‘Hi, Izzie. I hear you’re home tomorrow…’
How had he heard that?
‘I wanted to say hi and I’m thinking about you, honey. Please call me when you get back.’
‘I’ve got to get another tool,’ said Tony, shuffling into the hall. ‘Back in a moment.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ she said absently.
She’d removed Joe’s cell-phone number from her speed dial, but she knew it off by heart anyhow. She keyed the number in and thought about pressing the dial button.
What would she say: Bye, and it was fun knowing you?
No. She pressed cancel, put the phone down and poured the coffee.
Carla arrived at half nine on her way to work with pastries from the deli on 29th and some gossip magazines.
‘Sustenance,’ she said, dumping it all on the coffee table. ‘I figured you wouldn’t have gone to the market yet to stock up.’ She hugged her friend tightly. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Izzie said, and immediately began to cry.
‘Oh, baby girl, cry,’ sighed Carla. ‘I knew you sounded too perky last time on the phone. How’s your granny?’
‘Still in no-no land,’ Izzie sobbed. ‘She’s just lying there in the bed. Within the next week, they’ll move her into a nursing home. The longer she’s in a coma, the less chance she has of coming out of it. That’s all that’s left for her now: she’ll be left in a bed in a home, and I can’t bear to think about it. It’s such a horrible end to her life. She deserves so much more…’
The apartment phone rang and Carla automatically got up to answer it.
‘Yes? OK, who’s calling?’ Carla’s sharp intake of breath made Izzie look up. ‘No, you can’t talk to Izzie, you asshole. She can do without you right now. She needed you three weeks ago, and you couldn’t be there, so don’t think you can skip the queue this time…’
Joe. Nobody else could make Carla sound so furious.
‘Let me talk to him,’ Izzie said, holding out her hand for the phone. ‘I’m OK, honest,’ she added.
Grudgingly, Carla handed over the phone.
‘Hello?’ Izzie said.
‘Hello you,’ he replied, soft as honey.
His voice was so comforting and she felt that pang of knowing that she’d have to turn her back on its comfort. Or it would kill her. What was the point of living a half-life with a man who’d never be hers? Endless sacrifices, being on her own for every Christmas, squirrelling time away on birthdays, taking trips where they’d know nobody, going to off-the-grid restaurants in case someone walked up to either one of them and said ‘hello!’ in a knowing tone. She knew what their future held if Joe stayed