‘Is she really?’
Another telling pause. ‘She’ll calm down. It came as a shock. If you don’t know my sister, it’s hard to explain what she’s like.’
Flo said, ‘Oh, I think she’s given me a rough idea.’
‘Yes, well. Lena’s always been a bit . . . highly strung.’ He shrugged. ‘When Elsa died . . . well, of course she was upset . . .’
‘Mmm.’ Flo’s response was non-committal.
‘But she did rather assume that the flat would be left to her.’
‘And to you.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘OK, to both of us. But I already have my flat across the road. Lena doesn’t have one.’
‘You seemed a bit fed up too, when Mary explained the conditions of the will.’
‘Yes, well, that could have something to do with the fact that my sister’s been living in my flat for the last year.’ Zander raked his fingers through his hair. ‘It hasn’t been easy, let me tell you. I was kind of looking forward to her moving out so I could have the place to myself again.’
Flo said, ‘She’s a grown-up. All you need to do is tell her she has to find somewhere else to live.’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But it isn’t that easy.’
‘Well I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot I can do about that.’
With a flicker of humour, Zander said, ‘I don’t suppose you fancy a lodger?’
‘Funnily enough, you’re absolutely right.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, let me know.’ He looked around the living room. ‘Where is Jeremy, anyway?’
‘In the bedroom, watching EastEnders. It’s true,’ said Flo when Zander smiled. ‘As soon as he hears the theme tune, he’s glued to the screen.’
‘Really? May I?’ He indicated the bedroom door.
‘Go ahead.’
Flo followed him across the hall to Elsa’s bedroom. He pushed the door open and silently observed Jeremy sitting in state in the centre of the king-sized bed. Jeremy glanced over at them, did one of his slow-motion cat blinks and returned his attention to the television, where a ferocious cockney showdown was going full pelt.
‘What a racket,’ said Zander.
‘He likes it.’
‘And what Jeremy likes, Jeremy gets.’ After a moment, Zander said, ‘So how is he, health-wise?’
‘Fine. Really well.’
‘Right.’ He didn’t sound thrilled.
‘Sorry, was that the wrong answer?’
‘Look, I’m not a complete monster. I quite like cats. If Elsa had left Jeremy to me, I’d have been happy to take him in.’ Zander shrugged. ‘It would have made all this a hell of a lot easier.’
Quite like cats. There was your answer, right there.
‘Maybe. But she didn’t.’ Flo pulled the bedroom door to, leaving Jeremy in peace to watch the rest of his programme.
‘Luckily for you.’ His tone was neutral, his direct gaze eerily reminiscent of Jeremy’s.
The way he was looking at her was making her feel . . . odd. He was like a smooth-talking character in a film, the kind you didn’t know whether or not you could trust.
‘Yes, luckily for me,’ said Flo. ‘And I’ll be taking very good care of him, too.’
The more charming the smile, the less she trusted him. As he turned to leave the flat, Zander said, ‘Oh, I’m sure you will.’
In Carranford, the biggest and best New Year’s Eve party was being held at the White Hart. There was a band, and a comedian, and a fancy dress competition and a disco. The marquee at the back of the pub was pulsating with loud music, and an assortment of dogs and hyped-up children of all ages were racing around the dance floor.
Hallie’s wheelchair was being whizzed around too, but Hallie wasn’t occupying it. She was sitting at a bench drinking cider and eating crisps, watching as Bea took her cousin for a spin.
‘You’re a shocking driver,’ she told Bea as they zoomed up to her. ‘You need L-plates.’
‘Bloody cheek. And you’d better hide that drink,’ said Bea. ‘There’s a doctor watching you.’
‘Oh hell, really? Which one?’ Hallie couldn’t help it; she was twenty-eight years old and still terrified of Dr West. Ridiculously, it was one of those Pavlovian reactions that refused to go away. Dr Jennifer West, in her forties, had an air of Jeremy Paxman about her; she liked to scold and interrogate and her bedside manner was enough to make grown men quake in their boots.
‘Don’t worry.’ Bea was grinning at the look on her face. ‘It’s only Luke.’
Thank God for that. Hallie relaxed and didn’t tip her drink into the plant pot behind her after all. Adrenalin raced through her veins for quite a different reason; not that she would admit it to a living soul, but for some months now she’d had a bit of a crush on Dr Luke Hilton. It was a pointless, never-going-to-happen kind of crush, obviously; harmless enough. Luke was so nice, and seeing him always brightened her day.