‘Now give me my present,’ she said.

* * *

‘It’s no good,’ sighed Pru.

Eddie reached across the bed to her. She was wearing the indigo satin bra and knickers, the topaz-and-emerald bracelet and the kingfisher-green shirt he had given her, and the bedroom was strewn with presents, glossy wrapping paper and ribbons. It was eleven o’clock on Christmas morning, the sun was streaming in through the windows, and Pru was looking worried.

‘Look, ‘I won’t be offended.’ Eddie rushed to reassure her. ‘If you don’t like anything you can take it back to the shop. Which one’s no good anyway? Is it the bracelet?’

Pru smiled at him.

‘I told you, the bracelet’s perfect. ‘I love all my presents. It’s Dulcie I’m worried about. She just vanished last night ... How do I know she’s all right?’

Eddie stroked the back of her neck. The skin was like warm silk but the muscles beneath it were knotted with tension. He had been looking forward, more than anything, to spending the day alone with Pru, but if she wasn’t happy, he wasn’t happy.

He shifted Arthur out of the way, leaned over and picked up the phone.

‘What’s her number?’

‘You’re going to ring Dulcie?’

‘If you invite her over, she’ll only say she doesn’t want to be a gooseberry,’ Eddie explained. ‘If

‘I do it, she’ll know we both want her here.’

Love and gratitude shone in Pru’s grey eyes.

‘You are brilliant.’

She watched Eddie dial and listen. Less than a minute later he replaced the receiver.

‘What?’ said Pru, more agitated than ever. ‘No reply? Oh God, what if she’s done something stupid?’

‘Message on the machine.’ Eddie cleared his throat and attempted an impression of Dulcie: ‘

"Hi! Happy Christmas – I’m afraid I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m having totally fantastic sex with my husband, but if you’d care to leave a message I’ll get back to you.

Don’t hold your breath, though – we shall definitely be busy for some time." ‘ Pru stared at Eddie.

‘I don’t understand. Dulcie’s having totally fantastic sex with her husband? With Patrick?’

‘Well.’ Eddie shrugged. ‘That’s what it says.’

‘But ... But ...’

He dialled again and held the receiver out to Pru.

‘Here, you have a listen. It’s either an old message,’ Eddie said with a grin, ‘or a very new one.’

Chapter 57

The comforting thing about staying with your parents was you could slob around just as you’d done as a teenager and they weren’t shocked.

It was mid-afternoon on New Year’s Eve and miserable outside. Liza, stretched out on the sofa and eating Sugar Puffs out of the packet, was watching the closing minutes of Brief Encounter and wishing that just this once Celia Johnson would throw her library book at her dreary husband and run off into the black and white sunset with Trevor Howard.

Margaret Lawson appeared in the sitting room doorway, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

‘Silly woman, should have grabbed her chance while she had it,’ she observed briskly. ‘Should have gone off with the doctor.’

Liza scooped out another handful of Sugar Puffs and crammed them into her mouth.

‘Careful,’ said Margaret Lawson, ‘you’re getting them on your new jumper.’

Liza was wearing the turquoise and white zigzag-patterned jumper because her mother had knitted it for her and when someone gives you a jumper for Christmas you have to wear it, even if it does make you look like Roger Whittaker. Personally Liza felt a few Sugar Puffs dotted here and there amongst the zigzags didn’t go amiss.

‘Molly McKnight’s having a few friends round to her house this evening.’

‘Didn’t know she had that many,’ said Liza. Heavens, now she even sounded like a teenager. It must be the Sugar Puffs. ‘Well, she’s invited us,’ said her mother, ‘if you’d like to go.’

Molly McKnight’s booming voice still made Liza quail. Nothing had ever been said, but she had an uncomfortable feeling her parents’ eagle-eyed next-door neighbour knew exactly what had been going on in the back garden that night.

‘I don’t think so.’ Liza didn’t want to socialise anyway. The whole point of coming down here to Devon had been to avoid other people and the need to put on a brave face. Especially on New Year’s Eve.

‘Not even for an hour or two?’ Her mother looked disappointed. ‘We wouldn’t have to stay until midnight.’

‘Mum, you and Dad go. I’ll be fine. Honestly, Id rather be on my—’

‘No, no,’ Margaret Lawson cut in hurriedly, ‘we wouldn’t dream of doing that. Goodness, it was only a suggestion – you know us, we’re just as happy staying here.’

Liza hid a smile. So her mother had read the article in this morning’s Mail too, the one about more people committing suicide on New Year’s Eve than on any other night of the year.

‘Mum, I’m not going to kill myself.’

Margaret Lawson tried to react as though the thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

‘Liza, what an idea! Of course you’re not. I’m just saying we don’t want to go to one of Molly’s silly parties anyway. They’re fearfully dull. All she ever talks about is education cuts and bringing back the birch. And she serves home-made wine.’

When the doorbell rang an hour later, Liza was too engrossed in The Great Escape to answer it.

Maybe this time Steve McQueen could squeeze a few extra revs out of his bike and make it over that wire fence.

Vaguely she heard her mother, still busy in the kitchen, mutter, ‘Now who’s that at the blasted door?’

Moments later, the sitting room door swung open. A great waft of aftershave filled the room.

Liza, who was delving into a newly opened box of Cheerios, twisted round to have a look at whoever had just walked in.

She froze in mid-delve when she saw who it was. ‘Oh my God.’

‘I’ve got the Bentley outside,’ Leo Berenger announced. When Liza didn’t react he heaved an irritated sigh. ‘Well, come on then, woman, get a move on, will you? We haven’t got all bloody day.’

‘I phoned your friend Dulcie,’ he said brusquely. ‘She told me where you were. What are those things stuck to your front?’

‘Sugar Puffs.’ Liza picked them off her sweater. Far too agitated to eat them – her stomach was churning like a washing machine – she clutched them in the palm of her hand.

‘That’s a terrible sweater.’

‘Thanks. I already know.’

The Bentley raced on along the narrow country lanes. Leo Berenger clearly didn’t like to hang about. If he was doing sixty miles an hour now, thought Liza, toes curling, what kind of speed was he planning on when they hit the motorway?

She gazed out of the window at the stark black outlines of the trees whizzing past and wondered if this was really happening.

‘We flew back from Washington this morning.’ Leo interrupted her muddled thoughts.

So that’s where he’d taken Kit. Liza breathed out slowly, forcing herself to relax. Her toes were now gripped with cramp. ‘Why Washington?’

‘The doctors here couldn’t make me any cast-iron promises. Kit’s insides were a mess.’ As he spoke, Leo kept his gaze on the road ahead. ‘This surgeon was recommended to me. He’s one of the best thoracic guys in the world ... and Kit was in a bad way,’ he added grimly. ‘He needed the best.’

‘But he’s going to be all right?’ whispered Liza.

Leo Berenger nodded.

‘It’s been a rough couple of months. He’s been through a hell of a lot, but they reckon he’ll make a full recovery.’ The relief was indescribable.

Liza gazed down at the gluey mess of crushed Sugar Puffs in her hand. Light-headed, she addressed Leo Berenger’s grim profile.

‘Okay. So ... so why am ‘I here with you now?’

He blasted his horn at an old woman dithering in a Morris Minor, then leaned across and lit a cigarette.

‘I blamed you for what happened,’ he said finally, with characteristic bluntness. ‘If Kit had died,

‘I daresay I’d have carried on blaming you. But he didn’t die. He’s come through it, thank God.

And he’s still as bloody stubborn as his father.’ At this point Liza caught a glimmer of a smile.

‘All he talked about – when he could talk – was marrying you. Trying to tell him to forget you,’

Leo said gruffly, ‘was about as effective as persuading the Pope to use a condom.’ He cast a sidelong glance at Liza. ‘In the end I realised one of us had to give way.’

She shook her head, still dazed by what was happening. ‘I don’t imagine giving way is your style.’

Leo Berenger’s smile was brief. He indicated left and swung on to the M5.

‘Kit’s been through enough. And nothing on earth was going to make him change his mind about you. ‘I can’t keep the two of you apart any longer.’ He paused, cleared his throat and said reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where he was, but...’

‘I understand. You were only doing what you thought best.’ Shades of Dulcie, thought Liza; always so sure she was doing the right thing, more often than not getting it horribly wrong.

‘He’s my son. He means everything to me. ‘I love him.’

‘I know. ‘I do too.’

A sign flashed past: Bath 85 miles.

‘It’ll be another hour yet.’ Leo put his foot down. ‘Grab some sleep if you want to.’

As if. Liza bit her lip, trying hard not to smile. ‘I won’t sleep,’ she said.

The nurse hired by Leo to look after Kit while he was still bedbound met them at the bottom of the staircase.

‘He’s been asleep for the last hour,’ she told them. ‘The flight tired him out. If you want to wait down here I’ll let you know when he wakes up.’

‘Could I see him anyway?’ Liza was trembling, holding on to the banister. ‘I’ll be quiet.’

The nurse glanced at Leo Berenger. He nodded.