Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

Suddenly, her father reached across and grabbed her hand, yanking until she almost fell over the table. ‘Where’s Milly?’ he asked, his voice raising an octave. ‘Where is she? Where have you taken her?’ He stared at her for a moment, then sat back. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘It’s okay.’ Lucy tried to right herself, pulling her hand from his grasp. Over his shoulder she could see one of the nurses walking towards them. ‘It’s me, Lucy. Try not to panic.’

But she was the one who was panicking, her chest so tight she was finding it hard to breathe, her heart banging against her ribcage. Hot tears sprung to her eyes.

‘Everything all right, Oliver?’ the nurse asked, squatting down beside her father’s chair. ‘You a bit upset about something?’ She shot a reassuring smile at Lucy.

‘She’s telling lies,’ her dad replied.

‘Ah, don’t get yourself all upset. She just came to say hello.’ The nurse turned her smile on him. ‘I’m Grace, your nurse, remember?’

He gave the nurse a blank look.

‘How about we go and get you a nice cup of tea?’ Grace suggested. ‘And maybe a biscuit, too. I know where they keep the good ones.’ She offered her hand to him, and he took it. ‘And then we’ll come back and say hello to Lucy, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Oliver stood up, as compliant as a child.

‘You all right here for a minute?’ Grace shot a smile at Lucy. ‘He’s usually better after a walk and a drink.’

‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said, nodding rapidly. She watched the nurse lead her father away, and then she sat as still as a statue, grabbing on to the edges of her chair with her hands.

She didn’t know why she felt so shaken up. Maybe it was seeing his confusion first hand, or perhaps the strength he still had when he grabbed hold of her. His face had been taut with anger, as though for a moment he hated her with a passion.

She hated seeing him like this, hated knowing it would never get any better, only worse.

And though she had three sisters scattered across the globe, right then she felt completely alone.

‘John Graves is here,’ Grant told Lachlan, standing in the doorway of his New York office. ‘And I sent those projections over to the finance team. They’ll get back to you in a few days.’

‘Can you keep on top of it?’ Lachlan asked. ‘Make sure it’s their priority. I want to get back to Alistair with my initial thoughts next week.’

‘Will do.’ Grant glanced at his watch. ‘And you have that videoconference with the Scottish attorneys in an hour. Do you want me to bring you and John a coffee?’

‘Yeah, that would be great.’ Lachlan smiled. ‘And send John in.’ It had been a few weeks since he’d seen his Chief Legal Advisor. He was looking forward to catching up with him, to finding out where the Glencarraig case was at.

And yes, maybe John might mention a certain Scottish attorney who Lachlan was doing his best not to think about.

He stood up, stretching his legs after a long morning at his desk, and turned to look out of the window, to the city that stretched out before him. It had been this view that had sold the office suites to him – the thought of being able to work high above one of the richest quarters in the world, to absorb the atmosphere of the financial district. To keep his finger on the pulse at all times.

But now, it all looked so crammed in. So grey. No rolling hills or mirrored blue lochs to be seen. Just a city full of people rushing from one place to the next, with no time to appreciate their environment. If it was even worth appreciating.

‘Lachlan, it’s good to see you.’ John walked in, reaching his hand out. ‘How was Scotland?’

‘It was interesting.’ Without thinking about it, Lachlan slid his hand in his pocket and felt the shiny paper of the photograph there. Two small boys wearing matching kilts. ‘And wet. Very wet.’

John laughed. ‘I spoke to Malcolm Dunvale, it sounds like his Scottish team have a handle on the case.’

‘They’re working out fine. We had an initial meeting with my brother and his solicitor while we were there. And then we went to visit the lodge.’ He didn’t mention Paris. Wasn’t going to go there. ‘They’re confident we can see this thing through.’

‘And then the real fun begins.’

‘It does?’ Lachlan frowned.

‘Yeah, then you’ll be in charge of this place thousands of miles away. You’ll probably have to buy your own jet, the amount of travelling you’ll be doing. First Miami, and now the Highlands of Scotland.’

‘I wasn’t planning on flying over there all the time,’ Lachlan told him, gesturing at the conference table at the far side of his room. There was a television on the wall beside it, set up for videoconferences. ‘I’ll put somebody I trust in charge and let them do their thing.’

‘The same way you do in Miami?’ John raised his eyebrows.