A Spanish Vengeance

For all her school holidays after her mother’s death, and that first year when she’d been working at Lifestyle, this room had been hers. It hadn’t changed at all. The same pretty wallpaper, matching curtains and bedcover, the same white scatter rugs here and there on the pale blue fitted carpet.

She’d expected it to be quite different, for Honor to have altered the young-girl decor after she and Sophie—to Ben’s irritation—had made a bid for independence and moved into the rented flat.

Somehow it didn’t seem right that anything could remain so completely unchanged when her whole life had altered so drastically.

She opened her suitcase, looking for her washbag. She felt so tired, so emotionally drained, she scarcely knew what she was doing.

It had been a busy, emotional evening. While Arthur had fielded a spate of phone calls from people anxious to learn how Ben was, she and Honor had retired to the kitchen to heat soup and make toast while Sophie had located her father’s single malt and given them all a more than generous tot.

The conversation, inevitably, had centred on Ben’s accident. ‘Apparently, he overtook a lorry on a blind bend and met a van sideways on.’ Honor shuddered violently, her hand visibly shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips. ‘As the police said, if he hadn’t managed to swerve at the very last moment it could have been so much worse. The van driver was relatively unscathed. But Ben wasn’t wearing his seat-belt. I simply can’t understand it. He’s always been a sensible driver.’

Inevitably, Lisa had met Sophie’s eyes. She knew what her old friend thought. But the other girl compressed her lips and shook her head, tears flooding her eyes.

After the scratch meal at the kitchen table Sophie had pushed back her chair, glancing at her watch. ‘James should be back by now. He’s been to the Practice Manager’s leaving do. He said he’d back out of it, but I told him not to. There was nothing he could do to help Ben. But I promised to phone and give him what news there is.’

Smothering a yawn, Sophie had left the kitchen and, after helping Honor load the dishwasher, Lisa had excused herself and gone to her old room.

And wished she hadn’t. Downstairs, with the others, while the talk had been all of Ben and the dozens of concerned family friends who had phoned, her mind had been kept occupied by thoughts of the anxiety these good people were trying to handle.

Now, alone, her thoughts returned to her own misery. She knew it was selfish but she simply couldn’t help it. What was Diego thinking of her? Had he believed the stupid lie he must have overheard? Had he misconstrued her distress on hearing of Ben’s accident?

Naturally, she’d been distressed. Ben was a very dear friend of longstanding. But Diego hadn’t known the full story or understood how wretchedly guilty Sophie had made her feel, piling on the sense of responsibility, increasing her need to get back to England immediately because the badly injured Ben had been asking for her. He hadn’t known, or been able to understand, because he hadn’t given her the opportunity to explain anything at all.

Or didn’t any of that merit room in his head? Had he already decided he wanted nothing more to do with her after what she’d accused him of? Remembering the distance he’d put between them after she’d confessed to her unthinking overreaction it seemed the more likely scenario.

In any case this anguished introspection wasn’t going to make anything better, was it?

‘Can I come in?’ Sophie, after a moment’s hesitation, thrust herself into the room and two seconds later Lisa was being grabbed in a bear hug. ‘I’m so sorry, Lise! What I said on the phone was hateful! Will you ever forgive me?’

‘Forget it,’ Lisa said with the little breath that was left in her lungs. ‘I have. You were upset—’

‘No, I was hateful!’ Sophie denied vehemently, releasing her, standing back a pace, her eyes brimming. ‘I was upset—distraught, more like it—but that didn’t mean I had to lay a guilt trip on my best friend!’

Best friend!

The first warmth she’d felt since she’d woken this morning stole round her heart. Lisa gave Sophie a gentle shove that deposited her at the end of the bed and plonked herself down on the pillows, her legs tucked beneath her. Just like old times, gossiping half the night away, she thought with a clutch of gratitude at her heartstrings.

‘When I thought my twin was going to die and Dad asked me to get the number from your father and phone you and tell you Ben had been asking for you, I simply let rip and lashed out. I was about to lose my brother, or so I thought, and you were swanning around in the sun with your Spanish hunk. It was unfair and wrong and I’ll never be able to apologise enough.

‘I was fed up with you when you broke your engagement.’ Sophie gave a noisy sniff. ‘I’d wanted you to be sort of cemented in our family. But Ben did explain at the time, after you’d decided to take off for Spain, that you and he had been going to settle for a dead boring marriage—my description, not his. No passion.’ She was twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers, her eyes downcast. ‘Then you met up with the only real love of your life again and bingo!’ She raised red-rimmed apologetic eyes. ‘I’m crazy in love with James, so I do understand what happened.’

‘Shut up!’ Lisa said gently, swallowing a lump in her throat. At least she had her best friend back and that was a lot to be thankful for.

Sophie asked, ‘How’s it going with your Spanish hunk? We thought he might have been coming with you. We got the guest room ready, just in case. Mum was determined to get you to stay with us here and not be alone in our miserable little flat.’ She gave a tiny sigh. ‘I expect you’ll be haring back as soon as Ben’s out of danger.’

Lisa firmly changed the painful subject. ‘Never mind all that. Let’s talk about you and James. Tell me, how’s the house-hunting going? Is everything still on track for a midsummer wedding?’

No way could she discuss what had happened between her and Diego. Maybe she’d be able to confide in her friend later, when the pain of it was a little less savage. But not now.

It was two days before Ben was allowed visitors for longer than a few minutes. On the third morning he’d been moved out of ICU and into a private room and his parents and his twin visited for half an hour and reported good progress. Confined to bed with a cage over the lower half of his body, he was getting bored and cranky which, Honor said happily, meant he was well on the mend.

The atmosphere lightened dramatically and when Lisa left for the early evening session Sophie and Honor were preparing a celebratory meal of roast beef and Arthur’s favourite apple pie. Her father had made daily phone calls to the Claytons to keep up to speed over Ben’s progress. He’d spoken to her once, just to say he’d heard she was back and hoped Raffacani wasn’t too put out by her departure. He hadn’t suggested they meet. Lisa hadn’t expected him to and for the first time in her life had no room in her heart for disappointment.

Lisa approached Ben’s bedside with some trepidation. She couldn’t imagine why she had been uppermost in his thoughts when he’d thought he might be dying. But she kept a smile on her face and it widened when she announced with genuine pleasure, ‘You’re looking a whole heap better than I thought you would.’ She bent to kiss his cheek, laying the flowers she’d brought on his bedside locker.

‘You shouldn’t have bothered.’ He indicated the bright bouquets in vases on every available surface. ‘You only needed to bring yourself.’

‘Right.’ Lisa took her time locating a chair and bringing it to the bedside. In extremis, he had called out for her and he was going to tell her why. She dreaded hearing he had been deeply in love with her all along but had done the decent thing and stood aside when he rightly concluded she was in love with another man. Truly, she had never wanted to hurt him.