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But would they still be proud of her now? Her career, yes. Her lapse with Charles, definitely not. Perhaps it was time for her to stop torturing herself. At the very least, it was time to try.
‘When do you go back?’ she asked after a while, aware she was still nestled against his chest but far too secure to move away just yet.
‘Tomorrow evening.’
‘Have you any plans for the day?’
‘No. Why?’
It felt silly to be this nervous about asking. ‘Would you mind spending some of it with me?’
She felt his chest shake a little and looked up to find he was laughing softly. ‘Who else do you think we’d planned to spend it with?’
And now she felt even more silly, though it was tempered with a bubble of happiness. She might have said goodbye to her own family, but for another day at least she’d still feel she belonged to someone.
* * *
The next day Nick said he didn’t mind where they went, as long as it wasn’t the places the tourists always went to. Charlotte said she wanted to do all the tourist favourites: the pier, the drive through Beverley Hills to see the actors’ homes, the Hollywood walk of fame. The craziness of Venice beach. Lizzie laughed and went to get her wig. She knew who’d win out of that argument.
Later that afternoon, as she walked down the pier with her arms threaded through each of theirs, Lizzie felt lighter, more carefree than she could remember feeling for a long time. Even knowing they would later be getting on a plane didn’t crush her like she thought it might. Following her confession to Nick she felt she’d turned a corner.
It didn’t mean there weren’t tears in her eyes when she dropped them off at the airport. She hugged Charlotte first, noticing how she then stood back, giving her and Nick some space.
‘So.’ He gazed at her, his dark eyes giving hers a careful study.
She smiled. ‘So. Here we are again.’
‘Will you promise to talk to someone? See a psychiatrist, or shrink as I believe you Yanks call them?’
‘I might live over here but I’m English through and through.’ His expression told her that she hadn’t answered his question, so she touched a hand to his face and said the words she knew he wanted to hear. ‘I promise.’
‘I’m going to check up on you,’ he warned.
‘I hope so.’
Seemingly satisfied, he gave her one last hug before picking up both his and Charlotte’s bags and disappearing into the terminal building.
It was only on the drive back that Lizzie began to realise that from this point on her life could change, if she wanted it to. With no more huge medical bills for Robert’s care, the need to earn as much money as she could had disappeared. She could stop modelling; take a risk on a new career path. Perhaps try out acting.
And, she thought with a flutter of longing, she no longer had to stay in LA. She could even return to England.
There was a world of possibilities opening up for her, if she was brave enough to take them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nick kept to his threat and phoned Lizzie every couple of weeks. She didn’t take up his offer to join him and Charlotte for Christmas, telling him she’d already agreed to spend it with Catherine. Knowing how hard it would have been to see her, Nick buried his disappointment and told himself it was for the best.
Each time they spoke, he was relieved to hear her sounding more and more positive. Yes, she’d found a great psychiatrist who was really helping her. Yes, she was eating properly.
No, she wasn’t wallowing; she was getting on with her life.
No, she didn’t have a man at the moment.
It was the last question he dreaded asking most. One day he wouldn’t like the answer.
‘I’m too busy for a man in my life,’ she declared when he picked up the phone to her this time. ‘I’ve been having acting lessons.’
He was delighted for her, he really was. It had been three months since Robert’s death and Lizzie was beginning to sound like the Lizzie of old, bubbly, excited.
