This Could Change Everything(94)

‘Are you tired?’

‘No. Why?’ The little hairs were quivering on the back of Essie’s neck; sleep was currently the very last thing on her mind.

‘Me neither.’ Lucas glanced at her. ‘I was just thinking, I could do with a drink once we’re out of this car. If you want to join me.’

If I want to . . .

It was five minutes past midnight and the Red House would be closed. They would have the place to themselves, with no risk of being disturbed. The sexual tension between them had been building steadily throughout the journey home, all the more powerful and exhilarating for having remained unspoken. As if by mutual agreement, they’d talked about everything else other than their own feelings and emotions.

The degree of heightened anticipation was beyond anything Essie had experienced before. ‘I think we deserve a drink, don’t we?’ she said. ‘It’s been quite a day.’

And although Lucas didn’t reply, the look in his dark eyes and the slant of his eyebrows seemed to hint that it could go on to be quite a night.

But when he eventually swung the car into Percival Square, Essie said, ‘Actually, could you drop me here?’ as he was about to drive past Zillah’s house.

Lucas frowned, but did as she asked.

‘I’d just rather, you know, change out of this top . . . freshen up a bit.’ Hastily she added, ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll be over.’

His expression cleared. ‘Right, of course. Good idea. I might do that too.’ He broke into a smile of what looked like relief and Essie thought he might be about to lean across and kiss her. But they’d waited this long; they might as well wait that little bit longer.

She opened the passenger door. ‘Don’t fall asleep before I get there.’

And Lucas, his irresistible smile broadening, put the car back into gear. ‘See you in ten.’

There were no lights on in Zillah’s flat, which meant she must be out. Letting herself into the house, Essie raced up the staircase to her own flat. She might have mentioned casually changing her shirt and freshening up a bit, but what this really meant was taking a lightning-fast shower, brushing her teeth, finding a whole new set of clothes and spraying herself with scent.

As she stepped under the stream of hot water, she thought she heard a noise like someone crying out. She stuck her head out of the shower and listened, but it didn’t happen again. Probably a vixen outside in the square, yowling for a mate.

Ha, I know the feeling.

Seven minutes later, having thrown on a blue-and-white polka-dotted jersey dress and blue ballet flats, she grabbed her shoulder bag and raced back down the stairs. OK, her hair was still wet, but that didn’t matter. If Lucas had jumped into the shower, his hair would be wet too, it was—

She screeched to a halt in the hallway, jolted out of her happy fantasy as she spotted what she hadn’t noticed before.

There were half a dozen envelopes scattered over the mat by the front door. They’d been there for over twelve hours. Which must mean that neither Conor nor Zillah was here.

But Zillah hadn’t mentioned anything about going away.

Essie stared at the post on the floor, then at the locked door to Zillah’s apartment. If Zillah was asleep in bed, she wouldn’t appreciate being woken up by someone bellowing her name. But if she were here, why hadn’t she picked up the letters?

Essie kept a key to Zillah’s apartment on her key ring. She found it now and fitted it into the lock, opening the door as quietly as possible.

The living room was empty and in darkness.

As was the kitchen.

The door to the bedroom was half open. Her heart thudding, Essie peered inside and saw the empty king-sized bed, the tipped-over chair, the old black-and-white photographs scattered across the carpet.

Oh God, what’s happened? Where is she?

‘Zillah?’ Her voice rose. ‘Zillah!’

And then she heard the eerie cry again, less distant this time. Swinging round, she realised it was coming from the bathroom, and her blood ran cold.

Zillah was lying on her side on the black-and-white tiled floor, fully dressed and half covered with a bath towel. Her face was deathly pale, there were smears of dried blood on her temple and her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, and as Essie knelt beside her, she gave a groan of pain.

‘Zillah, can you hear me?’

No response.

Essie’s hands shook as she dialled 999.





Chapter 45


The ticking of the clock up on the pale-grey wall was the only sound in the hospital waiting room, until the door opened and a doctor came in.

Except he wasn’t a doctor, he was a surgeon; the neurosurgeon who had, in the small hours of the morning, carried out the emergency operation on Zillah’s brain.

On her actual brain.

‘Well, it’s done,’ he told them as Lucas reached for Essie’s hand. ‘She’s come through the surgery, but now we just have to wait and see how she gets on from here.’

‘Did it go well?’ said Lucas. ‘As far as you can tell?’

‘The procedure was straightforward, that’s all I can say for now. We won’t know if there are likely to be any residual problems until she wakes up, and that isn’t going to happen for a while.’

Essie nodded helplessly. The operation had been explained to them beforehand. Basically, the dried blood on Zillah’s temple had been the least of her worries. The head injury had caused a slow intracranial leakage of blood, known as a subacute subdural haematoma, which had collected beneath the meninges, which in turn covered and protected the surface of the brain.