Leo Berenger nodded.
‘It’s been a rough couple of months. He’s been through a hell of a lot, but they reckon he’ll make a full recovery.’ The relief was indescribable.
Liza gazed down at the gluey mess of crushed Sugar Puffs in her hand. Light-headed, she addressed Leo Berenger’s grim profile.
‘Okay. So ... so why am ‘I here with you now?’
He blasted his horn at an old woman dithering in a Morris Minor, then leaned across and lit a cigarette.
‘I blamed you for what happened,’ he said finally, with characteristic bluntness. ‘If Kit had died,
‘I daresay I’d have carried on blaming you. But he didn’t die. He’s come through it, thank God.
And he’s still as bloody stubborn as his father.’ At this point Liza caught a glimmer of a smile.
‘All he talked about – when he could talk – was marrying you. Trying to tell him to forget you,’
Leo said gruffly, ‘was about as effective as persuading the Pope to use a condom.’ He cast a sidelong glance at Liza. ‘In the end I realised one of us had to give way.’
She shook her head, still dazed by what was happening. ‘I don’t imagine giving way is your style.’
Leo Berenger’s smile was brief. He indicated left and swung on to the M5.
‘Kit’s been through enough. And nothing on earth was going to make him change his mind about you. ‘I can’t keep the two of you apart any longer.’ He paused, cleared his throat and said reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where he was, but...’
‘I understand. You were only doing what you thought best.’ Shades of Dulcie, thought Liza; always so sure she was doing the right thing, more often than not getting it horribly wrong.
‘He’s my son. He means everything to me. ‘I love him.’
‘I know. ‘I do too.’
A sign flashed past: Bath 85 miles.
‘It’ll be another hour yet.’ Leo put his foot down. ‘Grab some sleep if you want to.’
As if. Liza bit her lip, trying hard not to smile. ‘I won’t sleep,’ she said.
The nurse hired by Leo to look after Kit while he was still bedbound met them at the bottom of the staircase.
‘He’s been asleep for the last hour,’ she told them. ‘The flight tired him out. If you want to wait down here I’ll let you know when he wakes up.’
‘Could I see him anyway?’ Liza was trembling, holding on to the banister. ‘I’ll be quiet.’
The nurse glanced at Leo Berenger. He nodded.
‘You go on up,’ he told Liza. ‘Turn right at the top of the stairs. Third door on the left. Pauline, you can make me a coffee.’
Behind her, Liza heard Pauline saying with exaggerated patience, ‘Mr Berenger, my job is to take care of your son. I’m not employed to run around making you coffee.’
‘All right, all right,’ Leo sounded irritable, ‘make one for yourself then. And just do one for me as well while you’re there.’
Liza opened the door, slid noiselessly into the bedroom and closed the door again behind her.
Kit was still asleep.
A splayed-open Dick Francis paperback lay on the chair pulled up next to the bed. Removing it, Liza sat down and gazed at Kit’s face.
He was thinner, and paler, but she had expected that. What she hadn’t imagined was that he would look even more heartstoppingly handsome than she remembered. Every curve and angle of his face seemed somehow more perfect. His hair seemed glossier and thicker. Even his dark eyelashes seemed longer.
Liza realised she was holding her breath. She mustn’t disturb him. Still shaking, she leaned forward, closer to the bed.
Kit opened his eyes.
He blinked.
‘Are you having an affair with Noel Edmonds?’
‘No.’
‘So why are you wearing one of his jumpers?’
The smile was the same. It was still quirky and totally irresistible, and it still had the ability to make her stomach turn helpless somersaults.
Liza sat up, pulled the turquoise and white zigzagged sweater over her head and put it on the bedside table.
‘That’s better.’ Kit eyed her vest, appreciating the way the black Lycra clung to her golden breasts.
‘I’d be careful if ‘I were you,’ said Liza, her voice not quite steady. ‘If I tell my mother you commented on my jumper she’ll knit one for you too.’
Kit smiled again. Then he reached for her hand. ‘Are you really here?’
‘I’m really here.’
‘How?’
