200 Harley Street. Lynne MarshallЧитать онлайн книгу.
or do I …?’ Her shoulders were shaking as he took them in his hands, glimpsing the never-ending quandary she was in. ‘I can’t drop everything all the time but the one time I don’t dash to see her I know it will be the time …’
‘Get your coat,’ Leo said.
She gave a weary nod. It was almost four. If she left now she might miss the worst of the traffic and if she left really early tomorrow she could be back in time for work …
‘What are you doing?’ Lizzie asked, as Leo came back, his jacket on, telling Gwen he was going on a house call and wouldn’t be back, and then he led her to his car. ‘I live two minutes away.’
‘I’m taking you to see your mother,’ Leo said. ‘You’re upset, I don’t want you driving.’
‘No.’ Lizzie shook her head. ‘I was going to stay the night and drive back in the morning. You wouldn’t want …’ She couldn’t imagine him at the Hewitts and she couldn’t imagine the Hewitts if she and Leo shared a bed! ‘I stay at a bed and breakfast, they’re old family friends.’
‘Why don’t we just see how she is first?’ Leo was practical. ‘If you need to stay you can make a booking; if not, we’ll come back. We can stop at home and get our things just in case …’ He pulled out into the heavy London traffic and, realising what he had just said, corrected himself. ‘Do you want to go to your place first?’
‘No.’
There wasn’t any point—everything she needed for an overnight stay was already at Leo’s.
It was a long, slow drive but they were chatting so much that a traffic jam didn’t really matter. She showed him the bed and breakfast they might be staying in that night and forewarned him about the nylon sheets and the rules of the kitchen.
‘Last booking is at seven-thirty,’ Lizzie said. ‘I always want to tell them that I’ll eat out but they take it so personally.’
‘So you eat there to please them?’ Leo grinned.
‘No,’ Lizzie corrected. ‘I eat there so as not to offend them.’
They pulled up at the nursing home and Lizzie hesitated as Leo turned off the engine and went to get out.
‘You don’t have to visit.’
‘I know.’
‘It might just …’ She didn’t know how to put it delicately. ‘Dad might have some questions.’
‘I’m a friend,’ Leo said. ‘I’m also your boss. Won’t your father be pleased to know that you didn’t have to drive yourself? Won’t it help him to know that you’ve got people who care about you?’
He did care, that much he was more than willing to admit.
‘Of course,’ Lizzie lied.
Leo simply didn’t get it. The only person he answered to was himself and his mere presence would set off a whole load of questions—not tonight but in the future.
‘Lizzie!’ Shelby, the nurse, gave her a beaming smile as Lizzie and Leo walked in, and went a little bit pink when she saw Leo. ‘Your mum’s actually picking up a bit. The antibiotics seem to be kicking in and we’ve been giving her lots to drink. I’m so sorry for scaring you …’
‘Don’t be,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’d far rather you rang and let me know what’s happening than not. Is the nurse still specialling her?’
‘No. Your dad’s in there with her. She’s a lot more settled and her temperature has started to come down.’
A little bit more gingerly than usual, Lizzie went in.
‘Lizzie!’ Her dad stood, clearly shocked at the sight of a man with his daughter, but, then, Lizzie reasoned as she made the introductions, her dad would be shocked if she’d had her hair cut—he simply loathed any change in routine.
He always had, Lizzie thought as she approached Faye.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Have you got my watch?’
‘I’m trying to find it,’ Lizzie answered patiently. ‘I hear you haven’t been feeling well.’
‘Who are you?’
Even the ten thousandth time hurt and Leo saw the brief flicker of pain in her eyes.
‘It’s me, Lizzie.’
‘And who are you?’ She looked at Leo. ‘Have you got my watch?’
‘I haven’t got your watch, Mrs Birch,’ Leo said. ‘I’m Leo, a friend of Lizzie’s.’ He could see the tension in her father’s face. ‘She was upset so I offered to drive her.’
‘Are you staying at the Hewitts’?’ her father snapped to Lizzie, but it was Leo who answered.
‘Lizzie was going to stay if her mother wasn’t well but I have to get back tonight.’
‘Oh,’ Thomas huffed, only slightly appeased, but then he turned to his wife when she surprised everyone.
‘Lizzie!’ Faye’s smile was wide.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Lizzie went over and kissed her again as if she’d just walked in. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not so bad …’ She looked at Leo. ‘Who’s this?’
‘I’m Leo,’ Leo answered again. ‘I’m a friend of Lizzie’s.’
‘It’s lovely to see you with someone …’ Faye said to her daughter, and Lizzie cringed. She usually craved her mother’s rare moments of near-lucidity—the times when Faye actually recognised her daughter, and they could have an almost normal conversation, but did she have to do her reminiscing in front of Leo? ‘Better looking than that Peter,’ Faye said. ‘He was no good for Lizzie,’ she told Leo. ‘Lizzie has wanted a husband and children since the day she was born and all Peter wanted …’ Her voice trailed off as she lost her train of thought. ‘Have you seen my watch, Lizzie?’
Leo was actually fantastic with them but, then, naturally he would be, Lizzie reminded herself. He had a fantastic bedside manner. He chatted with her father about the traffic and it was a relief for Lizzie not to have to go over and over every detail of the journey down to Brighton for once. She left it to Leo and sorted her mum’s hair and encouraged a couple of drinks of lemonade into her.
‘Has she got any cranberry juice?’ Lizzie asked, because she always brought some with her but yet again it had gone missing.
‘I’ll go and get some,’ Leo offered.
‘The shop will be closed.’
‘I’ll find somewhere.’
He did. Leo was back ten minutes later.
‘The garage had some.’
Lizzie could only smile. Leo would have no idea how much cranberry juice cost, let alone care that it was double the price at the garage.
It was all these tiny things that constantly rammed home to Lizzie that their worlds were completely different.
The drive home was a slightly strained one. Leo might not know much about the cost of cranberry juice but he did know the cost of other things. The home her parents were in would cost a small fortune and, as they chatted, he soon worked out that, no, it hadn’t all been covered by the sale of their house and Lizzie was paying for a lot of things.
‘It must be a strain.’
‘It is.’ Lizzie could now admit it. ‘But growing up they gave me everything—it’s the least I can do.’
Her selflessness unnerved him. That she would give everything she had to ensure her parents’ comfort, that she would drop everything for what had turned out to be a simple UTI.