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It took some time for Sancha to answer, but as soon as she heard Zoe's voice, her sister burst out furiously, 'Oh, it's you! You've got a nerve, ringing me after walking out on me yesterday. I was really worried. How could you just disappear without even leaving a note?'
'I'm sorry, but…'
'My imagination worked overtime. I could imagine you passing out as you were driving along a road, crashing again, and being killed this time. I didn't know whether to ring the police or…so I rang Mark to see if his boss had any idea where you had gone, and…'
Hushed, Zoe snapped, 'Yes, he told me—Sancha, you shouldn't have done that! I don't want that man getting the idea that he has any authority over me!'
'What are you talking about? What authority? I simply asked him if he knew where you might have gone.'
Zoe kept her voice down, not wishing the whole crew to hear this argument. It must have been obvious where I'd gone. To work. I was afraid I'd lose my film. I had to…'
'They wouldn't sack you just because you were off sick after such a serious accident!' stormed Sancha.
Laughing hollowly, Zoe told her, 'You don't know the film business.'
'If it's that unreasonable I'm glad I don't! I don't know why you want to go on working for them.'
'Because I love making films, obviously! Why else would I be so keen to keep the job?'
Sancha typically switched attack, knowing she couldn't argue with that. 'The thing I couldn't understand was that you didn't have a car—how on earth did you get to work?'
'I took a taxi to a garage and hired a car, of course! Nothing difficult about that. I'd have thought you'd work it out for yourself.'
'Don't you talk to me as if I was a half-wit! I'm the sane one. I wouldn't risk my life going back to work the day after I nearly killed myself in a car! If you had any brains you'd have realised I'd be worried to death when I got back and found you gone.'
Zoe sighed, admitting the justice of the accusation. 'Yes, I know, I'm sorry if I worried you, Sancha, I didn't think of leaving a note. You're right, that's what I should have done, but I was in such a hurry. I'm okay, honestly—and there's no need for you to go over to my place…'
'Where are you ringing from?' Sancha's voice rose shrilly. 'Have you gone to work again?'
'Of course I have! I just explained—I can't afford to take any more time off!'
'Oh, for heaven's sake, Zoe, why ace you so stupid? You just had a serious accident. Who knows what damage you did yourself? Sometimes it takes a day or two for an injury to show up. You should be in bed, not running about on a film set.'
Hastily, Zoe said, 'Sorry, Sancha—they're waiting for me to start shooting the next scene. Have to rush. Honestly, I didn't mean to upset you. Bye.'
As she slid her mobile phone into her bag she sighed with relief. She disliked being at odds with her sister over anything. They had always been so close; Sancha was her best friend, even if they didn't see eye to eye on all subjects. Men, for instance. Zoe had always felt Sancha was crazy, choosing a tough, domineering guy like Mark, marrying him, even forgiving him when Mark had showed signs of straying with some girl at his firm. Of course, Sancha swore there hadn't been anything serious between them. She said Mark had been faithful to her, had never slept with the other woman, and the intruder had gone now, was out of his life, married to someone else.
Maybe. But Mark had hurt Sancha, and Zoe, for one, found it hard to forgive him for that. Sancha had given him three wonderful children. Well, two wonderful boys—and Flora, the terrible. Spoilt, hyper, self-willed, it had been Flora who brought that marriage to the edge of disaster. She'd demanded all her mother's attention and had got it, which had meant that the boys and their father were left feeling shut out, abandoned, unloved.
Zoe could understand why Mark had been restless and tempted to stray, even though she didn't approve of it He had apparently felt Sancha didn't love him any more, and, being the sort of man he was, very male, expecting attention from his woman all the time, that had made him smoulder with anger, hurt and resentment. So Sancha said And no doubt she was right It fitted everything Zoe knew about him.
All the same, Zoe knew she would never have trusted him again. Once he'd looked elsewhere, he might do so another time for another reason, she had told Sancha, but her sister had flared up.
'No! He won't, Zo. He loves me. He thought I no longer loved him, and he was hurt. I won't make the same mistake twice. From now on I'm going to make certain Mark is always sure I love him.'
A woman in love was a woman deluded, Zoe thought, joining Will. Well, not her! That wasn't happening to her. No man was blinding her to reason. She had never been that crazy about any man, and she had no intention of allowing love to take over her life the way it had her sister's.
By the time she got home that evening she was ready to drop, even though she hadn't worked very late. Normally she worked from sun-up until way into the night without this dragging sense of exhaustion, but her body obviously hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the accident At least they were back on schedule, so the pressure was off, and she had broken as the sun dipped below the horizon, with the final scene she had had to shoot safely in the can. Then she had spent an hour talking to the crew about tomorrow's schedule before she'd got into her car and set off for her cottage.
Her nerves were jumping as she turned into her drive—after what had happened yesterday she was worried in case Larry was lurking there, waiting for her. Before she got out of her car she sat listening and looking around, but there were no movements, no sounds of any other human being in the garden, so she found her key, and with it firmly gripped in her hand, dived out of her car and ran to the front door, unlocked it and hurried inside.
After closing it behind her she leaned there, listening to the house. There were no threatening sounds, just the familiar, reassuring tick of clocks, the rustle of the wind outside. It was faintly chilly, but that was soon solved. Taking off her jacket, she hung it up before walking into the kitchen, where she switched on the central healing, then began to make herself a light supper of salad and thinly sliced chicken while she listened to her phone messages.
Sancha, scolding for a while, against a background of hammering and the tuneless moaning which was Flora singing. 'Darling, Mummy's talking to Aunty Zo, don't sing so loud,' Sancha said in the adoring way she always talked to Flora before switching to a normal voice to say to Zoe, 'We've been invited to a party Connel Hillier is giving this Saturday—will we see you there? We could give you a lift Give me a ring this evening if you have time. Bye.'
Zoe poured herself a glass of dry white wine left over from a bottle Connel had opened yesterday. So he was giving a party was he? Well, when he got here she was going to tell him she wasn't going to his party; it would only give her sister ideas about them, ideas Zoe did not want Sancha to get.
Lifting the glass to her lips, she stiffened into stillness as his voice came out of the answer-machine, deep and urgent.
