‘Presumably they have taxis here.’
‘Yes, but on the front forecourt. If Mark is there, he’s not alone.’
‘Look at me.’ With one hand I tug at my hair and the other flounce the skirt of my dress. ‘They’re not expecting to see a girl in a dress with curly hair. I could walk along the road under the tunnel to the front and get in a taxi and come and pick you up.’
Tom looks at me. ‘It’s risky.’
I think of his father. ‘You want to make films, don’t you? You’re not going to give up now.’
He scowls. ‘Hell, no.’
‘Then it’s worth the risk. We’re so close.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t like to think of you … on your own.’
I glare at him. ‘I managed to look after myself just fine before you came along.’
My heart is banging so hard as I walk through the railway tunnel along the road. I’m walking right into danger. I have a woozy moment but it’s cool in the tunnel and when I put my hand on the cold stone wall, it grounds me. With gritted teeth I keep walking. When I step back into the sunlight I turn right and there is the station forecourt. Another orange Land Rover is parked on the double yellow lines. Oh for a traffic warden when you want one.
There’s a line of four taxis but to get to the head of the queue I have to walk right past the passenger window of the Land Rover. I falter for a second but then remind myself that might catch attention, so I force myself to keep walking, hoping my pronounced limp isn’t going to draw unwanted attention. I pin my gaze to a point beyond the vehicle. I recognise the ninja driver all in black. It’s Teasedale. I only saw him once briefly. If I recognise him, he’s going to know me. My hands are so clammy I want to wipe them on my skirt. I’m three steps from the car. He glances up, just as the wind tosses my hair across my face. I almost freeze. The urge to turn and run is so strong. His gaze slides off me and back down to the phone in his hand.
With my pulse doing the light fantastic I keep walking and go to the taxi driver.
‘Taxi to Chesham underground please.’
He frowns. ‘Is there a problem with the trains?’
‘No.’ I shake my head and grab the handle of the back passenger door.
‘Okay,’ he says, clearly puzzled. I slide in. He starts the engine.
‘And can we just go to the back entrance to pick up my partner.’
‘Sure,’ he says with the sort of indifference that suggests if the customer is paying the money he’s happy to take it, no matter how odd their request.
I sneak a quick peek at Teasedale as we drive past. He doesn’t even look up. I let out the breath stuck fast in my lungs for the last thirty seconds with a small silent whoosh. Now I just have to stay conscious until we get to Trafalgar Square.
Chapter Thirty TOM
Regret is stronger than excitement as the underground train leaves Oxford Circus station. Only two more stops to Charing Cross and we’ll be home and dry, but I’m worried about Lydia. After the initial euphoria of making it to Chesham and the underground, she’s become quieter and quieter. I know her well enough to know she’s not a sulker; if she’s got something to say, she’ll say it. Maybe she’s realised what I’ve secretly known all along: that I’m only going to disappoint her in the end. Like I’ve disappointed my dad, again. No matter how hard I try, or William or Rosie try, there’ll always be something else we need to perfect. I don’t want to be controlled like that but it’s a condition of love. My parents are always quick to withdraw their praise or affection when we don’t act the way we should.
I look at her. Her eyes are closed and her face is very flushed.
‘Lydia, are you okay?’
‘Mmm?’ she asks, her eyes taking a second or two to focus on my face.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Mmm. Yes. Fine. Where are we?’
‘Next stop is Piccadilly Circus and then Charing Cross.’
‘Good,’ she says. She’s been distant since we left my parents’ home. Not that I blame her. When she told me she loved me I took the easy way out, denied my feelings, but she’ll be grateful one day. She deserves someone better – and that’s so fucking easy to say but I know I’ll be jealous of anyone else that gets to know her the way I do. I fucking love her but I can’t risk it. Letting someone have that control, that power over me. There will always be a demand or an expectation of me.
The train pulls into Piccadilly Circus and I stare out of the window at the passengers waiting to board. As it slows I spot two broad-chested men in tight black T-shirts, earpieces and black jeans, with buzzcuts. Midge and Jonno.
They’re talking to each other, and they don’t look as if they’re scanning the passengers, but they’re about to board this carriage. I guess if they found out we left my parents they’d know we must be converging on one of the tube stations near the square.
‘Lydia. We need to move.’ I nudge her.
‘What?’ She seems fuzzy and confused.
I grab her hand and tug her though the passengers who’ve stood to get off. There are a few grumbles but we move into the next carriage. I push Lydia to one side of the door and stand just out of sight, so that I can keep an eye on the two men boarding the carriage we’ve just vacated.
Neither seem concerned with their surroundings. Both are on their phones. I glance up. Lydia is sliding down the wall.
I grab both of her forearms. ‘Lydia. Lydia. What’s wrong?’
‘I’m fine,’ she mumbles. ‘J-just … tired.’
‘We’re nearly there,’ I say and I can’t help giving her a kiss on her forehead. Her skin is hot as fire. ‘Lydia. You’re not well.’
She straightens and focuses. ‘I’m fine. Nearly there. Yes.’ She gives me the ghost of a smile. ‘We’re going to do it.’
I nod but anxiety is gnawing a hole in the pit of my stomach. She looks terrible. How can she have deteriorated so much since we left the party? There’s something seriously wrong with her. I need to get her to hospital.
The train comes to a halt and the door slides open. People pile off in front of us but I’ve made my mind up. We’re going to Waterloo. I’m taking Lydia to Guy’s and St Thomas’ hospital.
