‘She got that from me,’ Lizzie smiled. ‘But yes, good on her for stating the obvious. I just wish she could do things more quietly and not in full view of people like James.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to mention his name again,’ Jane commented. ‘Does it matter what he thinks?’
Lizzie opened her mouth to answer and then thought better of it. Of course it didn’t matter at all. Why should the opinions of the most insufferable guy she’d ever had the misfortune to meet be of any concern to her?
By Thursday morning, it seemed to Lizzie that every member of her family was having a less stressful week than she was. The rehearsals weren’t going that well and her nerves were beginning to kick in for her singing exam. She had to do well – really well; unbeknown to anyone else, so much depended on her getting Distinction. She hadn’t even shared her plans with Jane, because verbalising them might be bad luck.
Emily was insisting on showing up at school every day, ostensibly to assist with costumes and make helpful comments, but in reality because Toby was coaching on the all-weather courts and she liked watching his thighs from the window of the music suite. Lizzie didn’t want Toby – but she didn’t want to hear about his wonderful muscles and sexy backside every ten minutes either.
Katie and Lydia were on a geography field trip to the Brecon Beacons. Katie had sent eight texts full of angst about spiders, boil-in-the-bag rations and Lydia’s escapades with Guy Henson, and Lydia hadn’t sent any, presumably on account of being too busy with Guy Henson.
Meredith, basking smugly in the glory of being named Eco Student of the Year for instigating the school’s Bat and Bird Box project, had been interviewed by the local paper and Radio Meryton and was set on a career as what she called an eco journalist. She’d even offered to send the Meryton Chronicle a daily blog from her forthcoming Wildlife and Wetlands holiday with Youth for Conservation in the Fens.
Mrs Bennet was occupied creating posters for the mast protest, and Lizzie’s father was working late every night in order to take time off when Drew arrived and then unwinding by playing The Ring Cycle on his new surround sound system at full volume, making it impossible for Lizzie to practise her horn concerto.
And to make things worse, the letter that Lizzie was so desperate to receive still hadn’t come.
Jane, far from chilling out, had been over to the stables three times, although Lizzie was somewhat suspicious of Caroline’s motives. Her sister confessed to having ridden only once, the rest of her visits being spent cleaning tack, mucking out and shifting dung while, to use Jane’s own words, Caroline ‘drooled over James and recounted how she’d pulled loads of guys in her time, but none as fit and sexy as JD.’
‘God, doesn’t that girl make you want to vomit?’ Lizzie said that morning, as she hung about in the kitchen waiting for a lift from her father, who was downing his second cup of coffee and flicking through his latest CD catalogue.
‘She’s nice when you get to know her – it must be pretty dire being at a girls’ boarding school all term. And she obviously fancies James like crazy – remember what you used to be like with Toby.’
‘Point taken,’ Lizzie said, pulling a face. ‘And if you enjoy going over there . . .?’
‘It’s cool,’ Jane assured her. ‘I’m getting used to being round horses again. And the best bit is that —’
What the best bit was Lizzie didn’t discover as at that moment her mother burst into the room. ‘It’s come, it’s come,’ she cried. ‘Jane, move my car, there’s a dear – the lorry can’t get up the drive.’
‘What’s come?’ Lizzie asked.
‘The new furniture, of course,’ her mother declared. ‘For the guest bedroom.’
‘But we’ve got furniture.’
‘What? That old stuff your grandmother left behind?’ her mother retorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous – in our position? Vanessa has this wonderful sleigh bed in her guest bedroom.’
‘How do you know?’ Jane asked.
‘Oh, come on, Jane.’ Her father smiled, putting his coffee mug into the dishwasher. ‘Your mother made it her business to inspect the entire house while we were there last weekend. First, she needed the bathroom so urgently that she simply had to go upstairs; then she left her handbag on the landing and then – which I admit was creative even for her – she decided she needed to see for herself how the phone mast would ruin the view from the Bingleys’ bedroom. Subtle, eh?’
He winked at Lizzie. ‘Next thing I know she’s been to Parsonson’s and ordered the exact replica of Vanessa’s furniture.’
‘Hers is white; mine’s Parisian Cream,’ Alice interrupted. ‘The man in the shop said white is very last year. Mine was featured in the Sunday Times.’
She paused, clearly waiting for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, she glared at Harry.
‘The downside,’ she declared, ‘is that this Drew boy will be the first to use it.’
She sniffed as the letterbox rattled furiously. ‘Quickly, get a move on, Jane!’
As Jane obediently grabbed the car keys from the hook above the kitchen table and disappeared into the hall, her mother hot on her heels, her father sank down on to the nearest chair and sighed.
‘Do you think you and Jane could hold the fort for a night or so, Lizzie?’ he asked. ‘Right now, your mum’s refusing to come to Heathrow on Saturday morning to meet Drew. Says it awakens cruel memories, which, frankly, is a bit over the top.’
Lizzie smiled, but said nothing.
‘I thought perhaps, if I was to book a nice hotel for tomorrow night, get tickets for that musical she wants to see . . .’
‘It would get Mum in a good mood,’ Lizzie finished with a grin. ‘’Course we can cope, Dad.’
‘You’re sure, now? I mean, the twins aren’t due back till Saturday morning and Jane’ll pick them up if we’re not around, and Meredith’s —’
‘Dad! It’s no problem. Have fun. Think about it, what can possibly happen in the next forty-eight hours?’
‘Janey, can you do me a huge favour?’ Lizzie asked on Friday morning, while their parents were upstairs arguing about the vast amount of luggage Mrs Bennet thought necessary for a night in London. ‘Drop me at school? It’s our last rehearsal and I’ve missed the bus.’
Jane’s face fell. ‘Oh. Well, I . . . I mean . . . the thing is, we’re going riding.’
‘Couldn’t you go later?’ pleaded Lizzie. ‘The next bus isn’t for another hour.’
‘OK, then.’ Jane chewed her lip. ‘It’s just that I need to be at the stables in, like, half an hour. Charlie’s coming out with us. We’re going to ride over to Harlesgrove Woods.’
Lizzie grinned. ‘No contest,’ she teased. ‘My needs against your love life!’
‘Lizzie, for heaven’s sake,’ Jane snapped, to Lizzie’s amazement. ‘Leave it, OK?’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Jane said sighing. ‘To be honest, I’m pretty nervous.’
‘Why? Come on, admit it – you’re worried he might not be falling as madly in love with you as you are with him,’ Lizzie suggested.
‘I’m not in love,’ Jane muttered unconvincingly.
‘And I’m not addicted to cream eggs,’ Lizzie said, laughing. ‘Go for it, I say. Charlie’s a whole heap better than your usual choice.’
Jane said nothing, but just sighed and nibbled a fingernail.
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I’m not sure that my riding is up to cantering about in open country any more – last time, we just rode in the sand school and that felt kind of safe.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Lizzie assured her. ‘Remember how you used to jump those hurdles and do all that bareback stuff?’
‘That was when I was twelve, Lizzie,’ Jane protested.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Lizzie assured her again. ‘Go for it – just think, you and Charlie galloping side by side across the countryside, hair streaming in the wind – just like in that Pride and Prej
udice DVD. Sooo romantic!’
CHAPTER 5
‘I find myself very unwell . . .’
(Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)
‘IF ELIZABETH BENNET IS IN THE BUILDING, WILL SHE PLEASE go at once to Student Services?’
The tannoy boomed out across the atrium, as Lizzie was battling with the drinks machine during a midmorning break in rehearsing Year 7. Two of the music staff were off with a tummy bug and Lizzie knew that if she gave it her all, she’d be able to persuade them to give her a good reference for the one thing she really wanted to do with her life.
‘Elizabeth Bennet . . .’
‘What can that be about?’ she mused, thumping the machine in anattempt to dislodge a carton of apple juice.
‘That’s Elizabeth Bennet, needed as a matter of urgency in Student Services.’ Something in the tone of voice caused Lizzie’s heart to lurch into her throat. She grabbed the drink, hooked her bag over her shoulder and headed for the stairs.
‘Shall I come with you?’ Emily offered, trotting along behind her. ‘Sounds serious.’
‘Get real,’ Lizzie said, trying to suppress her anxiety. ‘I’ve probably dropped some music or something. I’ll catch up with you in a bit, yeah, and we’ll go into town?’
The reception area in Student Services was crowded with the usual lunch-hour mix of kids feigning sickness in order to get an afternoon off to enjoy the heatwave, and others claiming a variety of lost and confiscated possessions. As Lizzie approached the desk, Mrs Carr, one of the receptionists, looked up, leaped to her feet and came towards her.
‘Elizabeth, dear, I don’t want you to worry,’ she began, which filled Lizzie with even more alarm. ‘But there’s been a bit of an accident.’
‘Not Mum and Dad!’ Lizzie gasped, thinking of the way they had dashed off at high speed that morning.
‘No, no . . .’
‘The twins? Oh God, has Lydia done something stupid – the rock climbing?’
‘Elizabeth, calm down,’ Mrs Carr replied. ‘No, it’s your sister Jane. Apparently someone tried to call your mobile and when they couldn’t reach you they phoned me. I did explain that you’re not allowed to have phones on in school.’
‘So – what happened? Where is she?’
‘I’m not sure of the details, something about falling off a horse and —’
‘Oh no – is she OK?’
‘She’s been taken to the General Hospital,’ Mrs Carr said, handing Lizzie a slip of paper. ‘This is the phone number of the man who left the message.’
Lizzie glanced at the paper. The number didn’t mean anything to her, but she guessed it must be Charlie’s.
‘He said he’d called round at your house, but there was no one there.’
‘My parents are away,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve got to go. I need to see her.’
‘Of course you do,’ Mrs Carr said.
‘And can you let my sister know? Meredith – 11C?’
‘Of course. And I’m sure Jane will be fine. By the time you get there, she’ll probably be on her way home!’
As the taxi edged across a stream of traffic and turned into the hospital forecourt, Lizzie punched the number she had been given into her phone one last time.
‘I’m sorry, but the person you are calling is not available . . .’
She snapped the phone shut and sighed. She guessed that Charlie was at the hospital with Jane where his phone would have to be switched off. She felt so guilty – she’d been the one to persuade Jane that riding would be fine. If anything really bad had happened, she’d never forgive herself.
She thrust a five-pound note into the taxi driver’s hand, slammed the door, and ran up the ramp and through the automatic doors into the Accident and Emergency department.
‘I’m looking for Jane Bennet, she’s my sister,’ she panted to the first nurse. ‘Can I see her? Is she badly hurt?’
‘Just take a seat and I’ll get the doctor.’ The nurse gestured towards a row of chairs against the wall.
‘Please can you just tell me how she is?’
‘She could be a lot worse.’ At the sound of a deep gravelly voice behind her, Lizzie spun round.
And found herself face-to-face with James Darcy.
‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped, as the nurse headed down the corridor. ‘Where’s Charlie? He phoned.’
‘He didn’t; I did. I thought you’d want to know. I tried your phone, but it was off so I rang the school.’
For a moment, Lizzie was lost for words. But only for a moment.
‘But how did you know my number?’
The faintest glimmer of a smile crossed James’s face.
‘Jane’s phone – it was obvious she’d have her own sister’s mobile programmed in. It wasn’t rocket science. And since she was out cold . . .’
‘Oh my God!’ Lizzie’s face blanched as she clamped a hand to her mouth.
‘Only for a second, it wasn’t that dramatic,’ James said.
‘That’s OK for you to say, she’s not your sister!’
‘Sit.’ James pushed her down on to one of the chairs. ‘Can you keep quiet long enough for me to tell you what happened? Or is that too much to expect?’
On any other occasion his sarcasm would have enraged her, but she was in no position to argue.
‘Caroline took Jane out riding this morning.’
‘So – wasn’t Charlie there?’
‘Clearly keeping quiet is a skill you haven’t mastered as yet.’
‘Maybe if you could just get to the point,’ she retorted.
‘He was meant to go,’ James said, ‘but at the last moment his mother wanted him to go with her to see – well, there was family business to attend to.’
He chewed his lip for a second and then went on.
‘The whole thing was an accident waiting to happen, if you ask me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s obvious Jane’s a total novice around horses and Caro put her on Lottie, who apparently gets spooked by the slightest thing.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘Stupid girl.’
‘My sister is not stupid, she just hasn’t had much experience.’
‘I was referring to Caroline, actually. Anyway, from what I can gather, a combine harvester started up in the field nearby, Lottie bolted, Jane came off, hit her head on a fence post and by the look of it knackered her wrist as well.’
He glanced at Lizzie’s ashen face. ‘She’ll no doubt survive,’ he muttered. ‘So please don’t go all hysterical on me.’
‘Do you know something? You are totally unbelievable!’ Lizzie replied angrily. ‘If I wasn’t so worried about – oh! Doctor.’
She leaped to her feet as a guy in a white coat with a stethoscope slung round his neck came towards her.
‘Are you Jane Bennet’s family?’ he asked.
‘I am, he’s not,’ Lizzie said, moving away from James. ‘She is going to be OK, isn’t she?’
‘She’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘But we’re keeping her here for a few more hours, because she was unconscious for a minute or two. She’s been sick, but that could just be the shock. And she does seem a bit confused – that’s the bit we need to watch.’
Lizzie stared at him. She’d watched enough episodes of House and Holby City to know what he was hinting at.
‘Can I see her?’ The words came out as a high-pitched squeak.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Cubicle nine. And don’t worry about the lump on her head – that’s a good sign.’
‘Lizzie?’
Jane’s eyes flickered open as Lizzie pulled a chair up to her bed.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ Lizzie said, shocked at the total lack of colour in her sister’s face apart from the livid violet lump above her left eye.
‘Head hurts,’ Jane mumbled. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You fell off the horse, remember?’ Lizzie replied, taking her hand.
Jane groaned and shut her eyes.
‘But it’s OK, you’re going to be just fine.’
> ‘Can I get you anything?’ James hovered in the doorway, his expression a whole heap gentler than usual. ‘Coffee?’
‘Who’sat?’ Jane’s speech was slurred as she struggled to focus without her contacts. ‘Simon? Simon – darling? You came.’
‘It’s not Simon, silly . . .’ Lizzie began.
‘Si – love you . . . oh.’
Jane’s eyes rolled in her head and she began to gag. Lizzie grabbed one of the cardboard bowls near the trolley just in time.
‘James, quick, get a nurse,’ she cried.
But James had already disappeared.
When the porters arrived an hour later to take Jane off to X-ray, Lizzie dashed outside to try to phone her parents. There was no reply from either her mum’s phone or her father’s BlackBerry; the hotel said they hadn’t checked in yet, but that didn’t surprise her since her father would doubtless be insisting on visiting every antiquarian bookshop in London while he had the chance.
There was a text from Meredith begging to know what was happening, but when Lizzie tried her phone it was switched off and she had to leave a message at reception. There were times when school rules were, she considered, a total pain in the butt.
She was trying her mum’s phone again when she spotted a familiar figure loping across the car park towards her.
‘I just heard,’ Charlie panted, taking the steps two at a time. A damp strand of hair was flopping over one eye, his T-shirt was half in and half out of his shorts and the expression on his face was like a small boy whose dog had been caught chasing sheep. ‘How is she? I’ll kill my sister – what was she thinking of? I’m so sorry.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Lizzie assured him.
‘So – your parents are here, yes?’ Charlie asked as they walked back into the hospital. ‘They must be incandescent with us.’
Lizzie shook her head and explained about their trip.
‘And I can’t reach them,’ she sighed, walking up to the Triage desk. ‘James is here, though.’
‘Really? He’s still here? That’s pretty decent of him, considering.’ Charlie nodded thoughtfully.
Love, Lies and Lizzie Page 6
