Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

Pulling up his emails, he clicked on the red flag, his eyes skimming the urgent ones as he attempted to push her from his mind. But no matter how many times he read his messages, the only thing he could see was her.

Jesus, he needed to get a hold of himself. Just one weekend, that was all it was. Two stolen days with a beautiful woman – and that was supposed to be the end of it. They were grown-ups, they shared an attraction and they’d acted on it. That’s as far as any personal relationship went.

It didn’t matter that every time he closed his eyes he could see her standing on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower, the whole of Paris as her backdrop. That he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo as the breeze lifted her hair, revealing her slender neck. They’d had a weekend filled with mutual pleasure, and now they both had work to do.

It was time to get back to New York and get back to business.

And in the meantime, he would have another drink after all.

20

I must be cruel only to be kind

– Hamlet

‘How is he?’ Lucy asked, as she stopped at the reception desk to check in for the morning. ‘Has he settled in yet?’

It had been over a week since she’d arrived back from Paris, and this trip down to see her father felt long overdue. The last time she’d seen him was the weekend they’d moved him into the home, and she wanted to make sure he was okay.

‘He’s doing fine,’ the receptionist said. ‘He’s eating well, and he’s doing his crossword every morning. He even joins some of the other residents to watch the television in the evening sometimes.’ She smiled at Lucy. ‘He’s had a couple of episodes, which I’m sure the nurse will tell you about later, but overall he’s very comfortable.’

‘Episodes?’ Lucy asked. ‘What kind of episodes?’

‘Nothing to be alarmed about, and completely normal for his condition. He sometimes gets confused, and that makes him agitated.’ Another smile.

‘Thank you.’

Lucy was directed to the day room, a large airy space with windows and glass doors that overlooked the main gardens. A television was on in the corner – though no sound came out – but most people weren’t watching. Some were sitting in chairs just staring outside, others were reading. A thin, white-haired lady was dozing on the far side, occasionally letting out a loud snore.

She found her dad at one of the tables, the newspaper in front of him. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his papery cheek. ‘Hi, Dad.’

He looked up at her through his pale blue eyes. ‘Hello,’ he said, his voice polite. Two furrows lined his brow.

‘How are you doing?’ She sat down in the chair opposite his, the table between them. ‘Are you all settled in? Do you like it here?’

He took a slow look around the room. ‘Yes, yes, it’s very nice.’

‘And you’re eating well?’ she prompted. ‘Do you like the food?’

He blinked a couple of times, then picked up his pen, twisting it between his fingers. ‘I think so, ye

s.’ He pulled the lid off the biro then put it back on again. ‘What’s your name again?’

‘It’s Lucy, Dad.’

‘I’ve got a daughter called Lucy.’

It was her turn to blink. ‘I know you do. I’m your daughter.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly. Lucy’s just a little girl.’ He was still fiddling with the lid, pulling it off, pushing it back. ‘You’re a woman.’

She reached out for his hand, to stop him playing with the pen. ‘Dad, it’s me. Your daughter, Lucy.’

He pulled away as though she’d burned him. His bottom lip wobbled. ‘You’re playing tricks on me. I’d know my own daughter.’

She tried to bite down her tears. ‘It’s okay,’ she said quietly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

But it did. It really did.