Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

He pressed on her name, and then the green call button next to it, aware that it was either too early or too late to call. And yet he found himself lifting the phone to his ear, willing her to pick up, desperate to hear her voice.

He was as far away from professional as he’d ever been, but right then he couldn’t give a damn.

‘Hello?’ Her voice was thick with sleep as she answered the call, her eyelids barely unsticking from each other. She could feel her heart racing – a side effect of the adrenalin rush that started with the shrill ring of her phone. She hadn’t even bothered to check the caller ID – knowing it had to be about her dad.

‘Lucy?’

She recognised his voice straight away. Deep, masculine, with the accent that made her body react even when half-asleep. ‘Lachlan, is that you? Is everything okay?’ She reached across to switch on her bedside light. ‘What time is it there?’

There was a pause. She imagined him checking his expensive Rolex, the gold watch glistening against his skin. ‘It’s almost two a.m.’

‘And you’re still awake?’ She sat up, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Shafts of light were invading her bedroom through the gaps in the curtains, though they were muted enough for her to tell it was early in the morning. She glanced at the clock beside her bed.

Six-forty a.m.

‘I got your message,’ he said. He sounded strange – as though his voice was echoing around the room. ‘I’m sorry I missed our call last night. I had to catch a plane to Miami.’

‘Is that where you are now? At the airport?’

‘I’m at the hospital.’

Well, that woke her up. ‘Why? Are you hurt?’ A dozen different scenarios worked their way through her brain. And it was stupid, but she was starting to panic. The idea of something happening to him made her feel sick.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s my mom.’

Her heart dropped. She knew that feeling well. She’d sat in too many hospitals too many times not to sympathise. ‘Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that.’ She paused for a moment, catching her breath. ‘Has something happened to her?’

‘She’s been sick for a while. She has COPD.’ His voice was soft, uncertain. It brought out every caring instinct she had.

‘COPD?’ she repeated. ‘What’s that?’

‘Lung disease,’ he told her. ‘It’s not cancer, but it’s related to smoking. She’s had it for years.’

‘Can they cure it?’ she asked. ‘Will she get better?’ All she could think about was that videoconference, when he’d talked her down from her panic about her father. She should have guessed then that they had this in common too. That he knew exactly what it was like to have a sick parent.

‘It’s a chronic condition.’ He kept his voice low. ‘There’s no cure. But it’s not a killer either, at least not by itself. It just deprives your body of oxygen, makes you more susceptible to infections and heart failure. She has pneumonia right now.’

Lucy leaned back on the padded headrest, closing her eyes. She’d do anything to take away the pain – she knew how much it hurt. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s hard to find an appropriate reply to that, isn’t it? I find that with my dad. People tell me they’re sorry but I never know what to say to them. So you should be? I’m not sure that works.’

For the first time he laughed. ‘It’s one way of shutting people up.’

‘It’s a horrible thing, watching your parents go through something like this. When my mum died, well it was fast. Dreadful, but quick. But when they start to waste away, it’s excruciating. You feel so useless.’

‘I imagine either way is pretty horrible.’ He breathed deeply down the line. ‘How’s your dad?’

She shuffled in the bed. ‘He’s doing okay. No more incidents that I’m aware of. But he won’t talk to me on the phone any more, says he doesn’t like it.’ She shook her head. ‘It sucks, doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it does. I’m really sorry about your dad, Lucy.’

‘So you should be.’

He laughed and it was like the sun coming out. She smiled, too, enjoying the lighter moment. She twisted beneath the bedcovers, stretching her legs out in front of her.

‘Where are you right now?’ she asked him. ‘Are you allowed to make calls in the hospital? Doesn’t it interfere with the equipment or something?’