Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

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.’