So Now You're Back (33 page)

‘How?' he said, using that eminently sensible tone that was starting to seriously piss her off. And make her panic go through the roof.

She could feel a trap of her own making starting to close around her.

She'd promised Luke a more substantial role in his daughter's life. A role that she'd inadvertently denied him. And she'd been right to do that. But she wasn't ready to let him back in to this extent. Not yet. And especially not after the events of last night. Their lives had to remain separate, or at least separate enough. She didn't want to fall victim to the same unrealistic expectations that had caught her out once before where he was concerned.

‘Because she'll know I've lied to her,' she said. ‘About the
book tour. If she really has turned a corner in her attitude to my work, I don't want to jeopardise that.'

‘Were you seriously planning to go home and invent a whole book tour for her benefit?'

‘Well …'
Yes, actually.

‘Listen to me, Hal. Can't you see that's exactly why we need to do this together. She'll have questions and lots of them. And it would be much better if we were both there to answer them. We've both been pretty damn childish about this for sixteen years. And, whether we intended it or not, Lizzie got stuck in the middle. Let's put her feelings first for a change. You're not the only one who's lied to her. She asked me about what happened to us and I never told her the truth, either. Because I was too ashamed to admit that I'd run away. But I'm not running any more. We need to be straight with her, even if it's going to be hard, so she doesn't get stuck in the middle again.'

She blinked, her heart sinking to her toes, hating his passion and determination and the fact that he was making so much sense. His insistence on being a good father to their daughter wasn't going to make him any less irresistible as a man.

A man who always had been, and always would be, far too dangerous to love.

‘Come on, Hal. You know it's the right thing to do,' he coaxed.

‘All right,' she said, admitting defeat.

How could she argue with him, when it was the right thing to do for Lizzie? Just not the right thing for her.

‘You better get packing,' he said. ‘You've got about ten times as much stuff as me.' He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, the heat and affection in his gaze crucifying
her. ‘I guess we'll have to take a rain check on my bakery porn fantasies.'

Thank God for small mercies.

She left him, the trap clamping shut around her heart.

‘W
here's Trey?'

Lizzie bit back the retort as Aldo's anxious gaze darted over the crowd at the school gates, searching for his invisible au pair.

‘He's busy,' she replied. ‘We had fun yesterday, didn't we?'

She'd taken him to the cinema to see the latest Marvel superhero movie after school—sitting through enough CGI pyrotechnics to make her head explode.

Maybe she wasn't the Aldo Whisperer, but she was doing her best. Especially as she didn't have a clue where Trey had been since yesterday morning.

He hadn't come home last night and his phone had gone to voicemail all day today. She had a hideous feeling his mum had died. And while the thought of that was bad enough, worse was the worry, writhing in her stomach like a bucket of worms all day, about how he might have reacted. Had he gone on a bender? Was he wandering around West London in a daze of grief? It wasn't like him not to call her back and let her know what was going on.

Plus, her mum had been suspicious when she'd Skyped
yesterday evening, and Lizzie had nearly cracked and told her the truth.

She'd never had any problems lying to her mum in the past, about homework, school and Liam … But she was worried about Trey. Worried about what he might be going through. And she had this insane urge to ask her mum what she should do. Should she go round to Trey's flat? Make sure he was all right? Would he want her to?

But she couldn't ask her mum's advice without breaking the promise she'd made to Trey.

‘What's he busy doing?' Aldo whined. ‘He promised to take me to Laser Quest today because it's the last day of school. I want him here. Not you.'

The ingratitude of the comment stung. Lizzie's temper spiked. As if she didn't have enough on her plate already without getting the Gestapo treatment.

‘His mum probably just died. So why don't you stop thinking about yourself for two seconds?'

‘His mum died?' Aldo's face collapsed, bringing Lizzie back to her senses, several seconds too late. ‘When? Why didn't he tell me? Doesn't Trey want to look after me any more?' The whine in Aldo's voice might have been aggravating, but for the edge of panic. Aldo had always been chronically insecure. She guessed it came from not having a dad, and having no mates at school thanks to his angry Arthur routine of the past few years. ‘Is he ever coming back?'

‘He is coming back. He wouldn't just leave us,' she said, to reassure herself as much as Aldo.

Trey's mum was dying; of course he couldn't think about them right now.

But she knew how much Aldo missed him. Because she missed him, too. That sure, solid presence that she'd come to depend on in the past week and a half.

What felt weird, though, was knowing she was the grown-up in this situation. Without her mum or Trey there to take the slack, Aldo was counting on her to say and do the right thing.

‘How do you know?' Aldo said, still scared.

‘Because I know Trey. He's not like that. He likes you.'
And I hope he likes me, too.
‘And he likes his job. He certainly wouldn't leave without telling us.'

‘Where is he, then?'

She walked out of the school, towards home, holding on to Aldo's hand. The way he clung to her was surprisingly reassuring.

Perhaps she should just tell him the truth. She hated it when her mum lied to her, and he probably wouldn't even understand half of it.

‘I don't know if Trey's mum is dead yet,' she said, ‘but I know she's very sick. That's why he had to go and be with her for a bit.'

‘Where is his mum?'

‘She's in a hospice in St John's Wood.'

‘What's a hospice?'

‘It's a special hospital where people go to die. When they're very sick.'

‘Why don't we go there, then? So if his mum dies, he won't be all alone? If our mum was going to die, I'd want Trey there. Wouldn't you?'

Lizzie stopped and stared at her brother. Apparently, while she'd been panicking about what the best thing to do was, Aldo had come up with the answer.

‘Hi, my name is Lizzie Best and this is my brother, Aldo.' Lizzie held on to Aldo's hand while sending the receptionist
her most reassuring smile. ‘We're friends of Trey Carson and we were wondering if he's here today.'

‘Yes, he is,' the older woman said. ‘Are you here to pay your respects to the deceased?'

‘Trey's dead?' Aldo's distressed cry accompanied the massive leap in Lizzie's heartbeat.

‘Oh, no.' The receptionist smiled, almost amused. ‘I meant Ms Carson. His mother. I just assumed …'

‘His mother died, then?' Lizzie clutched Aldo's hand to stop it juddering.

‘Yes, about two hours ago.'

Oh, shit, Trey. No wonder you haven't been answering my text messages.

‘Who did you say you are again?' the receptionist added.

‘Lizzie Best, we're good friends of Trey's. Really good friends,' she reiterated, seeing the look of suspicion beginning to cloud the woman's face. ‘Is he still with his mum, then?'

‘He's with the funeral director at the moment.'

‘Is there anyone else with him?' she asked. ‘Like a friend? Or some family?' They would leave if he had someone with him. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the loneliness she'd sensed was all in her imagination, and he had loads of people to help see him through this. And he didn't need her or Aldo there.

The woman's face softened, and Lizzie could feel her sympathy for Trey stretch towards them across the Formica desk. ‘I'm afraid not. He's the only authorised visitor Ms Carson's had since she arrived four months ago.'

‘Could we go through? To offer our condolences?' Lizzie asked, desperate to see Trey. No one should have to do something like this all alone.

The woman hesitated. ‘I'm afraid only relatives can be authorised to go through. Were you related to Ms Carson?'

‘Yes, we're her …' Lizzie racked her brains. ‘Her second cousins, once removed.'

‘Are we?' Aldo asked.

‘Shhh.' She shot her brother a shut-up-you-muppet look. And, for once, Aldo actually shut up without arguing, knowledge dawning in his eyes.

Unfortunately, knowledge had dawned in the receptionist's eyes, too. And a moment passed as Lizzie waited for that knowledge to turn to refusal.

She braced to make a run for it, giving Aldo's hand a warning pump. If they had to, she and Aldo would storm the doors of the hospice.

But the woman simply indicated the clipboard on the desk, her expression kind and sympathetic. ‘Sign in, then you can go through.'

Lizzie scribbled their names on the sheet with the time and date. ‘Thank you.'

She rushed through the doors, tugging Aldo with her, in case the receptionist changed her mind.

Light shone into the airy corridor from a glass wall on one side, illuminating an open ward on the other. People lay in curtained-off cubicles, the beds wide and comfortable, like normal beds instead of hospital ones. A few patients glanced their way, most didn't. Lizzie searched the faces, then moved on.

The heavy scent of air freshener and chemicals hung in the air. The few sounds of conversation were muffled, as if the silence were held at bay by the most tenuous of threads. Her Converse and Aldo's high-tops slapped against the stripped wood flooring as they rounded a corner.

Lizzie stopped, and Aldo bumped into her from behind.

Trey sat on a bench in a courtyard garden visible through the glass. The sunlight made his short hair gleam, his head bent over the sheet of paper he held loosely.

He looked so alone. And so exhausted. She pushed open the door to step into the paved garden.

No drama. Only support.

‘Trey!' Aldo gave a choked cry as he let go of Lizzie's hand and rushed forward.

Trey's head lifted and he blinked slowly. ‘Lizzie? Aldo?' He stood, and the paper drifted to the paving. ‘What are you …'

Trey harrumphed as Aldo barrelled into him and wrapped his arms round Trey's midriff, burying his face against his friend's chest.

‘Your mum died,' Aldo cried, all the tension and anxiety spilling out in a cascade of messy tears. ‘That's so crap.'

Trey's hands came to rest gingerly on her brother's shoulders. ‘Hey, buddy, don't cry. It's OK.'

‘We came to tell you we miss you,' Aldo blurted out, then sniffled and burrowed into the hug, clinging on as if he was scared Trey would vanish. ‘We want you to come home. You have to come home.'

Lizzie walked towards them.

So much for no drama.

Emotion closed her own throat, though, when Trey bent to touch his cheek to Aldo's hair. His arms lowering to hug her brother back.

‘I'm sorry. He wanted to come and see you,' she said. ‘We both did. If you want us to leave, we will. But we wanted to be sure you're OK.'

After Trey had handled some more paperwork and spoken to the hospice staff, they went to a McDonald's near the tube station for dinner. Aldo managed to put away a Big Mac and a monster helping of French fries while keeping up a running commentary on every single thing he'd been doing while Trey had been absent, in intricate and unflagging detail. Lizzie noticed Trey hardly touched his quarter-pounder. She didn't have much of an appetite for her filet-o-fish, either. But she welcomed Aldo's inane chatter.

The commentary continued all the way back to Holland Park tube station and the short walk to the house. You'd have thought Trey had been gone for six months, not a day and a half. But still he listened attentively, asking a string of pertinent questions, making Lizzie sure he welcomed the distraction, too.

Aldo was so excited at having his idol back in situ that it took them forever to calm him down enough to finally get him into his pyjamas and off to bed.

Lizzie waited in the kitchen while Trey went upstairs with Aldo to tuck him in and read him another chapter from
The Goblet of Fire.
A ritual she knew the two of them had begun when Trey had moved in twelve days ago.

How could it have been less than two weeks since the morning she'd had that massive row with her mum about Trey coming to stay?

Her phone buzzed on the countertop and she picked it up to see a text from Carly.

Crashing epic party 2nite in Muswell Hill. Wanna cum?

She texted back. No thx, busy.

She'd rather gouge her eyes out than leave Trey this evening, especially to spend time with Carly.

WTF? It's going to be epic!! How lame r u!!!

I'M BUSY.

Doing wot? Sucking off Super Nanny?

The crude suggestion was accompanied by a grinning devil emoji.

Lizzie gritted her teeth as anger flared. Carly would never understand what a sweet and genuinely nice guy Trey was. Inked arse, dopey polo shirts and all. Because her BFF thought ‘sweet' and ‘nice' were for lame, uncool people who didn't matter.

To think she'd once bought into that bullshit, too, and sucked up to bitches like Carly.

But the past week and a half had given her the major kick up the arse she needed. Hating yourself and the way you behaved wasn't enough, you had to make the effort to change. And that meant ditching Carly.

Why don't u grow up?
She tapped out the reply and sent it.

The response came back moments later.

FU loser. Your just a begfriend anyway.

Lizzie switched off the phone and dumped it on the counter.

Carly would slag her off to everyone now. A few weeks ago the thought of losing all her cool points would have paralysed her with fear. But she actually wasn't that bothered.
Turned out there were a lot worse things than losing all your cool points to a bunch of wankers.

Hearing Trey's heavy tread coming down the stairs, she busied herself pouring boiling water over the teabags she'd dumped into her mother's treasured Clarice Cliff teapot.

He entered the room and sat down heavily on her mum's new sofa in the window alcove. He ran his fingers through his hair, sending the short strands into haphazard tufts, lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth.

‘Did Aldo go to sleep?' she asked.

‘Yeah, he's knackered.' Trey sent her a weary half-smile. ‘So knackered, in fact, he nodded off during the bit where Cedric Diggory gets killed in the maze.'

‘You look pretty knackered yourself.' She placed a couple of mugs on the countertop. ‘I've made a pot of tea, if you fancy a cup.'

‘Thanks, milk, no sugar.'

She prepared their tea in silence. Realising how strange it was she didn't even know how he took his tea, and yet he had come to mean so much to her.

Sitting down on the sofa next to him, she handed him the cup. His fingers butted hers as he took it. ‘Listen, thanks for coming today.' His thumb touched hers.

‘You're welcome,' she murmured.

He lifted the cup and took a swallow, then let out a breath. ‘I didn't know how much I needed a friend there, until you two arrived.'

She blew on her own tea, sipped it, watching him as he leaned back into the sofa's comfy cushions. And shut his eyes.

‘Was it awful?' she asked. Not knowing what else to say.

He opened his eyes and watched her for a moment, the awareness pulsing between them. Then shook his head as
he straightened to place his cup on the floor. ‘Actually, no, it wasn't. It was kind of peaceful, but …' He paused, his jaw tensing, as he rubbed open palms down his face. ‘It wasn't how I thought it would be, either.'

‘Why not?'

She could see guilt, and regret. She wondered what he could possibly have to feel guilty about.

‘I've wanted her to die for months now,' he said so softly she almost couldn't hear him. ‘Prayed for it to happen, because I can't even remember what she used to be like, before she got sick. It's like she hasn't been my mum for a long time. But I thought I'd be glad when she'd gone. And I'm not. I've been such a selfish bastard.'