She listened patiently, but she already knew what she had to do; when he’d finished, she killed Chico’s idea stone dead. ‘Will your people hold my grandmother’s hand when she’s dying? Will they explain to the tenant farmers that they don’t have a home any more? No, Chico. This is something only I can do.’
‘Now? In the middle of the night?’
‘As soon as I can.’ She glanced at the door, eager to start her packing.
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘As long as it takes.’ She didn’t even know if she’d be coming back. She couldn’t afford the plane fare, and any money she had would have to go to pay legal fees, and even that would be a stretch.
‘But you have commitments here.’
She searched Chico’s eyes, wondering if he would miss her, or if he was asking purely practical questions, perhaps already thinking about who could take her place on the course, and lead the team at the end-of-year match. ‘I couldn’t feel worse about leaving.’
‘Then, don’t leave. You’re the captain of the team, Lizzie. You have responsibilities here. You’d be leaving your fellow students in the lurch, and you’ll jeopardise your chance of graduating this year.’
A shiver ran through her at what seemed like an implied threat, but maybe she was overreacting. She steadied herself. ‘Some things are more important than ambition, and my grandmother’s life is one of them.’
Instead of backing off, Chico moved in close, and, planting his fist on the door, he stared into her eyes. ‘You do know this is the last thing your grandmother would want you to do, don’t you, Lizzie?’
‘She needs me. And family always comes first. The tenants are my extended family, and I care about what happens to them.’
Chico’s exasperation broke through. ‘You talk to me about family?’
‘Yes, I do, and I’m not frightened to bring the subject up. I expect you to understand that what I’m dealing with now is very much in the present.’
Shaking his head, Chico pressed his lips down in disagreement. ‘I’ll tell you what I do understand. I understand. I understand family and how they can ruin your life. Why can’t your parents do something useful for once?’
Lizzie laughed this off. ‘I don’t think they’re going to start now, somehow, do you?’
They both knew the answer to that question, and as Chico swore viciously his anger sliced through her. He had told her something of his hideous childhood in the barrio when they’d had their solitary chats in the stable, and then, after suffering all that, he’d been drawn into Lizzie’s family’s sordid affairs.
‘You asked me how my parents affected me, and you’re right,’ she said. ‘As a child I did feel rejected. If it hadn’t been for Danny’s friendship, I don’t know what I’d have done. I hid myself away at home. I didn’t trust anyone, and then you came to Rottingdean, and perhaps I sensed a kindred spirit, because you were the first person I really opened up to. But that girl you remember? That’s not me. I’ve changed. My grandmother moved back in, and taught me to trust again, and how to live life on my own terms. I’ll never forget what she did for me.’
‘What she did for both of us,’ Chico said.
A slow breath eased out of her. ‘So, you haven’t forgotten?’