I sighed. “Mike, she’s asked me to back off. I’m not going to force her to?—”
“You know about her hands, right?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“Well, she can get joint pain with the Raynaud’s too. She’s not supposed to be leaning over with her back hunched for long periods. And all of that’s gone out the window. And, of course, she’s not to get cold, and at the moment she’s working in the bloody outhouse. There’s damp in there. She’s in pain, man. Your woman is in pain, and you need to put a stop to it.”
“What?” I pushed back from the desk and stood in one sudden movement.
“Back pain and pain in her hands. None of us can convince her to move out of the outhouse, not even that bossy mare Emily.” Mike sighed. “My sister doesn’t process hurt and loss like most people. She goes into herself. You remember how she was when Dad died?”
Nobody had been able to find Lucy the day after Henry Mayweather died of pancreatic cancer. The whole village had turned out to search. I was home from boarding school for the holidays at the time. I’d known where to look. I’d run over to the cottage and into the back bedroom. There in the depths of the cupboard, behind all the coats and shoes was little seven-year-old Lucy. She was writing in her notebook and she didn’tlook up when I crawled in after her. It was dark in there, but I could just about make out her face. Tears streaked down each pale cheek slightly as she wrote. It was the absolute silence of the crying that broke my heart the most.
“Hey, Luce,” I’d whispered. She didn’t look up. “Tell me a story?”
After a few more moments, she blinked and raised her head to look at me. The pain in her eyes caused my chest to squeeze hard. Then in her croaky little voice, hoarse from crying, she told me her story about a good king who had been cursed by an evil witch to make him fall asleep and not wake up. About how he had a daughter who fought her way to find the antidote that could save him. About how she managed to make her way back and give it to her father before it was too late; and how the kingdom rejoiced when the good king at last woke up again. When she’d finished, her tears had stopped; it was like they’d run themselves dry.
“Daddy won’t wake up, will he?” she whispered, and my throat burned as I shook my head. She threw herself into my arms then and I held her in a tight hug, telling her that it would all be okay, something she knew wasn’t true. After a little while, I picked her up and carried her out of the cupboard to Hetty and Mike. I watched as the three of them just fell into each other, collapsing in a group hug with their shared pain. I turned to walk away, but Hetty grabbed my hand and pulled me down with them. I was part of the Mayweather pain, part of their grief, and I felt it acutely. Henry Mayweather had been more of a father to me than my own.
“Listen, mate, you found her that day, remember?” Mikey asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft. I nodded but couldn’t bring myself to speak. “Well, you need to find her again, right? She’s not run away this time, but she’s gone all the same.”
I blinked. What if Mike was right? What if I could findher again? What if she did need me after all? What if I was exactly what she needed? She could daydream to her heart’s content. I’d be awake for both of us. I’d make sure all the real-world stuff got sorted.
“Felix, I was just going over the figures for the July reports, and I—” Vicky appeared in the doorway to my office, staring at Mike. She was wearing her pristine white suit, heels, perfect make-up, as always. It was a sharp contrast to Mike’s cargo pants, tight thermal and crumbled lumberjack shirt over the top. His beard had a few days growth and his hair was a good couple of weeks past needing a cut. Vicky froze and her mouth dropped open.
“Sorry, love,” Mike said, and Vicky blinked at the casual endearment. Nobody really ever had the balls to use endearments with Vicky. “But Felix and I are busy.”
Vicky just stood there staring at him. It was bloody awkward, and I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with it. Luckily, Lottie came in after Vicky and went straight to her, touching her wrist, which I knew was a signal they’d developed to snap Vicky out of herself when she became hyperfocused on something. It took longer than normal but eventually Vicky noticed Lottie’s hand and blinked before coming out of her staring-at-Mike trance.
“Vics,” Lottie muttered. “Let’s get you back to the office. Leave these guys to alpha it out together.”
“I’m sorry about your sister,” Vicky blurted out, her weirdly intense focus back on Mike.
“So you bloody well should be,” snapped Mike as he glared across at Vicky, who swayed back almost as if she were absorbing a physical blow. “My sister trusted you.”
“When it comes to people, I can have poor judgement.” She cleared her throat. To my surprise, Vicky actually soundednervous. I don’t think I’d ever heard her nervous before. “I should have listened to Lottie. I shouldalwayslisten to Lottie.”
Lottie smiled at Mike and gave him a small wave. “Hi, I’m Lottie, the all-knowing.”
“Listen, Mike and I—” I started.
“Can you let Luce know how sorry Vics is?” Lottie said to Mike, completely ignoring me. “We’ve been trying to contact her, but she’s not answering our calls and messages. We miss her. Is she coming back to London?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mike and I spoke at the same time, then he looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
“Yes,” I repeated. “Lucy is coming back to London. She’s moving in with me and she’s staying.”
Lottie’s eyes went wide. “Oh, right. Well, that’s sorted then. Hopefully she’s back here for Taco Tuesday. It’s Vics’s turn and we’re making TBea come next week.”
Chapter 29
I accept I’ve lost that right
Lucy
