‘My niece will be here soon.’
‘And you’d like me to leave.’
‘I think it would be best, Michael. Bella’s bound to be upset.’
Michael Allingham downed the last of his scotch, set the crystal glass on a silver coaster on the coffee table and, with an easy familiarity, stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, not quite touching Liz.
She’d welcomed his visit as a pleasant interlude after a hectic day of trying to reach Bella, of cancelling concert commitments – accompanied by her agent’s anguished wringing of hands – and then packing for Australia.
‘So,’ Michael said. ‘Here we go with yet another goodbye.’
Liz gave a soft laugh. ‘At least we’re used to goodbyes.’
His fingers skimmed the back of her neck with the delicious, feather-light touch she knew so well. ‘But this time you’re not just zipping off to the continent for a night or two. Australia’s such a damn long way from here.’
‘I haven’t been back there in ages.’
‘No. Not since I’ve known you.’
‘Three years.’
‘Best years of my life.’
Liz closed her eyes before Michael could see her reaction. It bothered her that he seemed to care so much. Too much.
Then she felt his arms around her, his warm lips on her neck, on her chin, her mouth. They kissed hungrily, as they always did. But this evening their kiss was still gathering steam when Liz pulled back with a sigh. She had to call a halt.
She really didn’t want Michael to be here when Bella arrived. The explanations could be awkward and that was an extra difficulty she didn’t need tonight. Not when she and Bella were already so dreadfully upset about Peter’s heart attack.
‘Yes, yes, I know. I’m leaving.’ Michael got to his feet, turned to the large mirror above the mantelpiece and checked that his tie was straight. He ran a lean hand down his business shirt, smoothing it and making sure it was tucked neatly into his dark trousers.
Liz walked with him to the front door.
‘I really am very sorry about your brother, Liz, but I’m sure the Aussie outback breeds them tough.’
‘Of course it does. Look at me.’ She managed a small smile.
‘I hope he’s in much better shape by the time you arrive.’
‘Thanks. I’m going to stay positive.’
But it was so hard. She couldn’t bear the thought of Peter being so ill. It didn’t seem possible that her horse-riding, cattle-wrangling big brother was now clinging to life by a fragile thread.
‘You’ll have to try not to worry,’ Michael said.
‘Easier said than done.’
‘That’s true. Still . . . ’
‘I know. It’s good advice.’ If for no other reason, Liz would have to be strong for Bella’s sake.
Retrieving his coat from a hallstand, Michael shrugged into it and Liz opened the front door, letting in a blast of cold air.
‘I hope it doesn’t snow tonight.’ She peered out into the chilly darkness. ‘The last thing we want is to find Heathrow closed.’
‘You’re worrying again.’
‘No, I’m not. I’m stopping, right now.’
‘Good girl.’ Dropping a final kiss on her cheek, he stepped into the cold night. Wind whipped at his coat collar as he turned and went down the steps.
Liz closed the door quickly, as she always did. She never liked to watch Michael hurry home to his wife.
Bella shivered on the front steps of the house in Godfrey Street as she pressed the doorbell. Throughout the journey from France and across London, she’d been hanging out for this moment. She just wanted to see Liz.
Liz was family.
The door opened, spilling light into the frosty gloom. And there was her aunt – tall and bony, with haywire dark curls, and as elegant as ever in a long red woollen dress.
‘Darling.’ Liz held out her arms.
‘It’s so good to see you.’ Bella stumbled forward and burst into tears.
‘Sorry.’ Bella reached into her coat pocket for tissues. ‘I’m okay, really. I just can’t bear to think of him––’
‘I know, I know, darling. But we must believe he’ll pull through again.’
‘Yes.’ Bella nodded, blew her nose, took a deep breath and smiled. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘You, too.’ Liz smiled fondly. ‘Come on through. Dump your stuff anywhere for now. Would you like some supper? I thought something light. Soup perhaps.’
‘Soup would be perfect.’
Bella adored Liz’s tall, narrow house with a kitchen in the basement and bedrooms at the top. The street-level sitting room was gorgeous and gracious with Tuscan-pink walls and pale carpets that were a perfect foil for the beautiful artwork and furniture, including Liz’s grand piano in the far corner.
The house seemed perfectly right for her aunt, a home in the truest sense. And Liz had managed this without the usual accessories of a husband or children.
Bella hoped to feel settled and at home, somewhere . . . one day . . . She had no idea where it would be, but the longing nagged at her again as she followed Liz downstairs to the dining room, next to the kitchen, where they ate chicken soup with thick pieces of toast for dipping.
‘This is divine,’ Bella said.
‘Yes, it’s yummy, isn’t it? I didn’t make it of course.’
Bella grinned. With so many fabulous stores conveniently close on the King’s Road, her aunt managed to throw together wonderful meals and dinner parties in a blink, despite her demanding, high-powered life as a concert pianist. All Liz had to do was buy pre-prepared gourmet food and heat it up. It was another of the many wonderful advantages of not living in the North Queensland outback.
They voted to go to bed early to try to catch a few hours sleep before the taxi arrived. Nevertheless, hot chocolate and a bedtime chat had become an essential first-night ritual whenever Bella stayed at Godfrey Street. And Liz cherished this time with her niece.
Now Bella was sitting in bed in borrowed pyjamas to save the hassle of unpacking. With her face scrubbed and her light brown hair brushed and shining and tumbling about her shoulders, she looked much younger than her twenty-three years.
Twenty-three. Where on earth had the years gone? Liz had been in her thirties when Bella was born and she could so vividly remember Peter’s excited phone call to tell her that her niece had arrived.
She’s the prettiest little thing, Liz. We’re calling her Bella Elizabeth.
She’d been incredibly touched that Peter and Virginia had given their daughter her name. She’d tried not to let it influence her emotions, but she’d always felt especially close to Bella and she’d been delighted when the girl had chosen to come abroad.
‘It didn’t feel selfish before,’ Bella said, snapping Liz out of her reverie.
‘What’s that? What didn’t feel selfish?’
‘Being over here and staying away. It felt important to me. The right thing to do.’
‘It has been the right thing for you, Bella. You mustn’t feel guilty now just because your father’s ill. You’ll drive yourself crazy with that kind of thinking. I’m sure you did the right thing coming over here. You needed to do it. I felt the same at your age.’
‘But you came here to study music.’
Liz shrugged. ‘I might have left home with slightly different goals, but in our own ways we both needed to escape.’
‘Escape?’
The very thought seemed to appal Bella.
‘It’s not a crime,’ Liz said defensively. ‘It’s perfectly normal for young people to stretch their wings and leave the nest.’
‘Yes, well . . . I wanted to broaden my outlook.’ The girl sounded self-righteous now.
‘Very commendable.’
Bella smiled as if she knew she’d been caught out, but then a hunted look came into her clear green eyes and Liz realised, with some dismay, that her niece’s reasons for living abroad were probably as complicated and fraught as her own. And by staying away they’d probably both avoided facing up to their pasts.