by Carrie Elks
Unpacking her clothes and throwing most of them in the laundry basket – Elena would sort them out – Lucy walked into her rainfall shower, letting the steamy droplets soothe her skin. When she stepped out, twisting a towel around her hair in a turban, and wrapping the rest of her body with a stark, white robe, she walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle and filling it with fresh water.
Elena had restocked the fridge, too. There were some Waitrose ready meals and a couple of bags of salad, plus the usual milk, cheese and bread. Lucy grabbed the milk and a small bowl, filling it up and putting it on the floor. The tabby sashayed her way over and took a lick.
‘This is just me being polite,’ Lucy pointed out to the cat. ‘Don’t think you can take advantage, because when that milk’s gone, so are you.’
As if the cat could understand, she looked up, glancing at Lucy over the china bowl, before lowering her head and licking at the milk.
Lucy was about to make a coffee when her telephone started to buzz. She looked at the display, frowning when the number flashed up. She didn’t recognise it.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Miss Shakespeare? Lucy Shakespeare?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘My name’s Martha Crawford. I don’t know if you remember me, but I live two doors down from your father.’
Lucy clicked the kettle off, frowning. ‘Hello, Mrs Crawford, I remember you. Is everything okay?’
‘There’s nothing to worry about, not really. I mean, he’s okay; well, as okay as he ever is. He’s not really one for saying much, is he?’
‘Has something happened to my father?’ Lucy asked.
‘I didn’t even know if I should call. He told me not to, but you never know, do you? And then I spoke with Deidre, she’s the lady who lives on the other side of your dad, and she said it was for the best.’
‘Could you tell me what’s happened?’ Lucy tried – and failed – not to sound impatient.
‘My husband found him wandering around in his pyjamas this morning. Well, he spotted him out of the kitchen window when he was making our tea. We both love an Earl Grey first thing. I know a lot of people like breakfast tea, but as far as I’m concerned it’s a waste of a tea leaf.’
‘Dad was in his pyjamas?’ Lucy asked, sitting down on a stool. She leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar. ‘Where did he go?’
‘He was walking up towards the shops. So Bernard – that’s my husband – followed him up there. Luckily he wasn’t in his pyjamas. Bernard, that is.’ Martha gave a little laugh. ‘When Bernard caught up with your dad, he was a bit confused. Didn’t seem to know where he was. Luckily that girl, his carer – what’s-her-name with the short hair – she was just arriving and helped get your dad back into the house.’
‘So he’s okay?’
‘He was a bit shaken up. Bernard said he didn’t recognise him, and you know the two of them used to spend a lot of time talking roses back in the day.’
‘Do you know if his carer called the doctor?’ Lucy asked.
‘No idea, love. I just thought you should know, that’s all. Luckily Deidre had your number from the last time you were down here. I hope you didn’t mind me calling you.’
‘No, no, I’m glad you did. Thank you.’ Lucy gave a quick smile, even though Martha was four hundred miles away. ‘I should go now,’ she said, already making a mental list of people to call: the care company, her father’s doctor, and of course her sisters. ‘But thank you so much for letting me know. I appreciate it.’
‘Any time.’ Martha lowered her voice. The woman was as hard to brush off as an ardent suitor. ‘Though between you and me, I think it’s all getting a bit much for him. Have you thought of putting him in a home?’
‘Well, thanks again, Mrs Crawford, and please pass on my thanks to your husband,’ Lucy said with a loud voice, quickly ending the call before Martha could start talking again. She grabbed the notepad and pen she always left next to the microwave, and started to write on the lined paper.
If in doubt, make a list. It worked every time.
‘So how was Miami?’ her sister Juliet asked, her voice echoing down the line. Lucy had almost managed to catch up on the work she’d missed while travelling to Miami. That’s when she wasn’t on the telephone to London, talking to doctors and her father’s carer, trying to agree a plan of action. It hadn’t exactly been the peaceful return to Edinburgh she’d hoped for.
She wedged her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she tapped a few amendments to the document she was working on. It was late afternoon in Edinburgh, and another rainstorm had whipped itself into a fury, lashing water against her windows. The cat had found her way into the flat again, and was curled up on Lucy’s lap as she typed. She’d discovered it belonged to the downstairs neighbours, but liked to roam around the building as though it owned the place. And maybe Lucy liked it a little bit, too. ‘It was brief. I flew in, had a couple of meetings then flew out again.’
‘Sounds exhausting,’ Juliet replied. ‘You should be in bed now, not calling me.’
‘I’m fine. I’ll have a lie-in at the weekend.’ Lucy highlighted some words and inserted a comment. ‘I think only being there for a day was good for me. Not enough time for the jet lag to take hold.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Juliet said, a grin in her voice. ‘If anybody can beat jet lag, you can.’
Juliet was younger than Lucy by two years. Growing up, she’d been the lieutenant to Lucy’s general, the two of them ruling the roost, and lording it over their younger sisters, Cesca and Kitty. Then, when Lucy was fifteen, their mother died, and the play-roles they’d taken on somehow became real. Maybe that’s why her father had been so insistent that she moved to Edinburgh to study law when she was eighteen. To make her start living her life again.
‘I wish I could beat old age,’ Lucy said softly. ‘Dad’s not been himself again. One of his neighbours found him wandering around the village in his pyjamas.’
‘Oh no.’ Juliet sounded alarmed. ‘Is he okay? Did he catch a cold? What does the doctor say?’
Lucy spent the next few minutes filling her sister in. ‘It’s all under control,’ she reassured Juliet. ‘I just wanted to let you know what’s happened.’
‘He’s getting worse, isn’t he?’
‘It’s to be expected.’ She kept her voice gentle. Even though she was the second oldest, everybody was always gentle with Juliet. ‘I spoke to the doctor, and he’s sent me up some details of care homes near Dad. He thinks it’s time we look into them.’
Juliet was silent for a moment. Lucy could picture her in her big American living room, with the huge sofa and the plump easy chairs.
‘It will all be fine,’ Lucy promised her. ‘I’ll speak to a few of the homes and report back. You don’t need to worry.’
‘But I do worry…’
‘So tell me,’ Lucy said, choosing to change the subject, ‘how’s Poppy getting on?’
Juliet sounded as grateful as Lucy was for the distraction. ‘She’s doing great, really enjoying school. Did I tell you what she said to my mother-in-law the other day?’
As Juliet regaled her older sister with stories of her fearless daughter’s escapades, Lucy found herself smiling, her whole body relaxing at Poppy’s antics. That little six-year-old really was a chip off the old Shakespeare block, and it was a relief to finally talk about something else.
‘You in a rush to be somewhere?’
‘Nowhere – in – particular.’ Each word came out with a gasp of air. It felt as though every muscle in Lachlan’s body was burning. But he wasn’t going to stop, not until Grant did. It was a question of honour.
Central Park was teeming with people. The benches were full, the green lawns peppered with blankets, children weaving in and out between the chequered wool, and swarming over the grass like ants attracted to a morsel of food. The aroma of hot dogs and popcorn floated with the breeze, the carts surrounded by tourists and locals, jostling to m
ake the front of the line. It was as though nobody had seen the sun before. The first warm day of spring had brought them all out to enjoy the greenery.
‘You’re running faster than normal. I thought maybe you had a girl waiting for you.’
Lachlan shook his head, grinning in spite of the pain in his legs. ‘If I had a girl waiting for me, I wouldn’t be wasting time with you, my friend.’ Sometimes bantering with Grant beat the need for air. This was one of those times.
‘Hey, if you had a girl waiting for you at home, I’d be beating the hell out of you for leaving her.’
‘You think you could beat me?’ Lachlan laughed, as the two of them came to a stop next to the duck pond. He leaned against the nearest tree, the rough bark pressing into his palm. His breaths were short, more gasps than anything else. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
He felt good. Damn good. Like he could rule the world, if only the world would let him.
‘Ah, the last time I beat you was in fifth grade. And that was because you sprained an ankle.’ Grant leaned over, resting his hands on his thighs. ‘Jesus, we’re getting too old for this shit.’
‘We’re not even mid-thirties,’ Lachlan pointed out. He’d got his breath back, and was leaning against the tree. One good thing about training daily – it meant his recovery time was practically pushed to nothing. ‘We’re in the prime of our lives.’
‘Speak for yourself, man. I’m an old married guy.’ Grant didn’t look too miserable about it, though. He lifted his hand up, watching as the sun glinted off the metal of his wedding band. ‘I need to slow things down.’
‘You slow down any more, you’ll be walking backwards,’ Lachlan said. ‘Anyway, if you let yourself go, you won’t be married for much longer.’
Grant laughed. ‘Yeah, Jenn’s not into beer bellies. Or at least I don’t think she is.’ Finally he stood up, blowing out a mouthful of air as he did. ‘Speaking of Jenn, I’d better get back. We’ve got a lunch date with her folks. I can’t be late.’
‘Pussy.’
‘Nah, just married. And loving it.’
The two of them walked past the duck pond, heading west towards the subway. That’s where Grant would catch his train downtown, while Lachlan continued walking to his apartment on the Upper East Side.
Blood brothers, divided by wealth and geography.
‘You still on for Friday?’ Grant asked, as they reached the entrance to 103rd Street Station. He lingered at the top of the steps, holding on to the balustrade.
‘Sure. What time do you want me?’
‘Eight okay?’
‘Works for me.’
‘Don’t forget your passport. You’ll need it to get to the poorer part of town,’ Grant teased. There was no real animosity to his words. Why would there be? He had chosen his life, and clearly loved it. Even if Lachlan couldn’t understand why he wasn’t driven to achieve more.
‘I’ll get my shots done too,’ Lachlan replied. ‘Wouldn’t want to pick anything up.’
‘Are you sure?’ Grant winked. He put his hand to his ear. ‘You hear that? A thousand girls just threw themselves into the Hudson.’
‘Hey, stop trying to live your life vicariously through me. You’re the one who decided to tie yourself to one woman for the rest of your life.’ Lachlan bumped his shoulder against Grant’s. ‘And I don’t pick women up, they pick me.’
‘Whatever you say, Casanova.’ Grant stepped back, punching him lightly in the arm. ‘I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, man.’
‘See you tomorrow.’ Lachlan raised his hand in goodbye as Grant turned and ran down the steps to the subway, his footsteps echoing through the stairwell.
6
There’s a skirmish of wit between them
– Much Ado About Nothing
‘Do you have everything you need?’ Lynn asked, hovering in Lucy’s doorway as she wound her cotton scarf around her neck. ‘I need to leave on time tonight, Marnie has a school concert going on.’
It was nearly six o’clock, and the office had already thinned out. Laptops had been closed and locked away, coffee cups placed in the dishwasher which was whirring in the kitchen. Half of the partners’ offices were dark and the fast gunfire of emails arriving in her inbox had already thinned to the occasional ping.
Lucy glanced up from the letter she’d been reading. ‘I’m all good here, thanks, Lynn. And best of luck with the concert.’ She gave her assistant a quick smile.
‘I’ll need it. And thanks, I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be the one who can’t hear anything because she’s been deafened by a thousand squeaky recorders.’ Lynn waved a goodbye, closing the door behind her and leaving Lucy alone in her office. She checked the time on the clock. She had time to draft a quick reply before her videoconference was due to begin.
But then her laptop lit up, a green camera icon showing her incoming call. She grabbed her mouse with one hand, patting the back of her hair with the other. A brief click on the screen and the call began.
‘Good evening, Lucy.’ Lachlan’s deep voice echoed through her laptop speakers. It was the first time she’d seen him since their meeting in Miami, but the time and distance had done nothing to dampen his attractiveness. He was sitting in what she assumed was his New York office, his tie loose but still knotted, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. Behind him she could see the blue sky, dotted here and there with wispy clouds.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said, inclining her head at him. The noon sun was shining through the window behind him, illuminating the Manhattan skyline. It looked glorious compared to rainy Edinburgh.
‘Thanks for making time to see me. I just wanted to go through your proposed next steps and make sure we’re on the same page.’ He smiled, and that dimple flashed in and out of his cheek, giving him a hint of youthfulness that he didn’t usually display. She dragged her eyes away, taking in the rest of his office. There was a painting on the far wall – almost out of shot. She could just see the edge, pale paint splatters arranged in a hypnotic spiral. Was that another Pollock? She opened her mouth to ask him, then shut it again. They were supposed to be talking about his case.
She grabbed the folder next to her laptop, opening it to the front page. ‘Did you get the draft letter I sent over earlier today?’ she asked, pulling her own copy out and taking the lid from her red pen. ‘It’s the reply I propose we send to your brother’s solicitor. I’d like to get it in writing that we completely refute his claims.’
‘I managed to take a look at it a minute ago,’ Lachlan said, glancing at his screen. ‘It all looked fine. But do we really need to send a letter? Aren’t we giving his claim credence if we reply to it?’
‘It’s all part of the legal process. They write to stake a claim, we refute it, they then file in court. I know it sounds long-winded, but if they miss any steps they could have their claim thrown out, and if we miss any we could forfeit. The real action won’t happen until we’re up before a judge. That’s if it gets that far.’
‘You think it won’t?’ he asked her.
‘That depends. There are a lot more steps to take before anything gets to court. Once their claim is lodged we’d have two weeks to respond. Then the judge would consider whether the case has any merit before allowing it to go further. It would be my job to convince him it doesn’t.’
There was a hint of a smile on his lips when she finished speaking. His eyes were softer than she remembered, but they still did something to her. She felt her stomach flip flop when their gaze met.
Dear God, she needed to get a hold of herself. She was twenty-nine, not nineteen.
Somebody walked into Lachlan’s office and placed a coffee cup and some papers on his desk. Lucy couldn’t see their face – only their hand as it came on screen. Lachlan murmured to them, and whoever it was said something just as unintelligible back.
‘Is it raining there?’ Lachlan asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared closer at the screen. Lucy automatically turned to look a
t the window behind her, the glass spattered with raindrops.
‘When isn’t it?’ she asked, turning back to her screen. ‘I spend half my life either scurrying under an umbrella or wringing out my hair. It’s one of the downsides of living in Edinburgh.’
‘But there are upsides, too, aren’t there?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, there are. It’s a beautiful city, full of culture and interesting people. It’s as vibrant as London, but it doesn’t feel anywhere near as vast and busy. It still has a small-town feel to it that I love.’ She could have spoken about the place all day.