The Make

wave of bile come up into her throat.

‘Let it go, Gracie,’ said Lorcan, lying back with his eyes shut. ‘We’re all okay. That’s what counts.’

No use asking how he’d known where her thoughts had strayed. They’d always had that facility, to pick up on each other’s concerns, even before they were put into words.

‘Drax will recover,’ she said in a small voice, cuddling in closer against him. ‘He’ll come back at us.’

‘That detective said he was going to be doing a lot of time,’ said Lorcan.

‘How long? Ten years? That’s eight with good behaviour, then he’ll be out again. Do you really think he’s going to forget this? Forget we crossed him?’

‘Leave it for now, Gracie. No good fretting about the future. Let’s handle the present first, okay?’

‘Tell me why you went out.’

‘Later,’ he said, and yawned, and pulled her in tight against him.

Lorcan slept; Gracie couldn’t.

They ate dinner in the casino restaurant, then Lorcan took her hand and led her out to the well-lit car park at the back of the building.

‘I don’t want to go out,’ she said, hanging back. She felt safe up in the flat with him; right now she didn’t want outside company, she just craved recovery time – and him.

‘I know. We’re not,’ he said, and walked on, taking her with him.

Gracie gave up and followed.

‘Just got something to show you,’ he said.

‘Can’t you just tell me?’ complained Gracie, shivering out here in the frosty air without a coat.

‘Nope. Got to show you. Look.’

And there was her Mercedes, sitting there on the cobbles with a big red bow strung across its bonnet, sporting a new set of tyres and with its silver surface gleaming in the overhead sodium lights.

‘Oh my God,’ gasped Gracie.

‘They valeted the inside too,’ said Lorcan. ‘Worked on Christmas, to get it done. This is why I went out, and I couldn’t tell you where I was going because it would have spoiled the surprise. I was going to present you with it when I got back. The garage was running behind with it, I had to wait around. So I was very late. And when I got back, you were gone.’

Gracie opened her mouth to speak and felt tears well up instead.

‘Hey,’ said Lorcan in surprise, pulling her close. ‘Gracie? Don’t cry.’

‘It’s just all so stupid,’ Gracie managed to get out. ‘I didn’t care about the bloody car, Lorcan.’

‘You were so upset when the tyres were slashed.’

‘Yeah, but that was before . . .’ Gracie’s voice tailed away. She was so confused. She felt like the past few years had been a strange, exotic dream. Things had become so important to her in that life. The glitzy apartment. The shiny, top-end, luxury car. Spa holidays. Five-star, all the way.

But now . . .

Oh now she was beginning to see that there were other things that mattered so much more. Her family, for instance. The family she had lost touch with and now she could get to know again, if she wanted to. Sweet, gentle Harry, and big-mouthed, lovable George, and even her mother, even Suze, who in Gracie’s opinion had shit for brains but she was still Gracie’s mother, there was still some feeling there.

‘You like it then?’ Lorcan was looking at her.

An icy swirl of snowflakes hit them. Lorcan pulled her in closer.

‘Yeah,’ said Gracie, half laughing and half sobbing too. ‘I like it.’

Lorcan stared at her. ‘Now why are you crying, you silly bitch?’ he asked, and Gracie laughed and cried all the harder.

After Christmas

Chapter 78

Sandy went into intensive care after Christmas to see George. She hoped that he would understand, that what she had done had been done in a moment of anger; it hadn’t been intentional. It certainly hadn’t been premeditated. She was fully intending to explain all that, to lay it all out and hope that he would forgive her for it, so that they could take up where they’d left off, get married. Noel was the past. George was the future.

George was sitting up now, starting to get some colour back in his cheeks. He’d lost weight. He still couldn’t speak because of the tracheotomy, but he had a notepad and pencil near at hand.

Sandy came in, and kissed him on the cheek, and clasped his hands tight in hers.

‘I’m so pleased you’ve come round, George. So pleased. And so relieved. I know I hurt you, but I didn’t mean to do it.’ Sandy was sitting there staring at him earnestly. ‘I just . . . you hurt me so much when you sent me that text, George. I couldn’t believe you said that, that we were finished . . .’

George grabbed the notepad and wrote: ‘What do you mean, finished? We never even started.’

Sandy looked at it. A twinge of irritation made her face pinch up.

‘Look, George. It was just a mistake. We were getting on so well, weren’t we?’

George scribbled: ‘No we weren’t.’

Sandy looked at the words, bit her lip as if trying to hold in anger.

‘George, now you know we were. I just got so mad when you said that. If you were joking, it wasn’t very kind of you.’

George wrote: ‘I wasn’t joking.’

Sandy snatched the pad and pencil out of his hands and threw both to the floor.

‘Now George you’re being very naughty,’ she told him with a trembling voice. She stared hopefully at his face. ‘We can start again, George. I’ll leave Noel. I hate him anyway. We’ll go somewhere together. It’ll all be fine.’

The nurse came forward and touched Sandy on the shoulder.

‘Um, Miss Sandy Cole?’ she asked. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘These people want a word with you,’ said the nurse. She bent and picked up the pad and handed it to one of the men who stood there.

Sandy looked back, beyond the nurse. Two security guards were standing right there, watching her.

‘If you could come with us . . .’ said the one who held the notepad.

‘A word about what?’ Sandy was asking as they led her away.

The nurse exchanged a long look with George.

‘A restraining order would be a good idea,’ said the nurse.

George nodded. A padded cell would be better for that mad bitch. Fuck the escorting. He was through with all that shit, as of now.

They met for afternoon tea at the New Covent Garden Hotel in the dog days between Christmas and New Year. Emma and Jackie were waiting for him, and they both rose nervously to their feet when he arrived.

‘Oh my God,’ said Em, tears starting in her eyes.

‘Darling Harry, are you all right?’ asked Jackie.

What had he done to deserve these two? Harry hugged them both. Three of his fingers were heavily bandaged but no longer painful. Doing anything, even buttoning his fly, was awkward; but he’d live. His hair had been a problem. The first time he saw his reflection in a mirror, he’d laughed out loud. Deano Drax would never