Page 39 of Broken Beyond Repair
“Fair enough.”
She’d tried.
CHAPTER13
Beatrice adjusted the cushion under her leg and re-seated her cast against it more comfortably. She was beyond sick of the irritating, itchy cast, though it wasn’t the only thing causing irritability. Constant waking in the night was leading to afternoon naps, which led to sleepless nights; a vicious cycle she couldn’t seem to pull herself out of. Her whole body was irritable; some muscles hurt from overuse whilst others ached from lack of use.
The hopping, scooting, pulling, hoisting, and need for excessive amounts of patience were all getting old. Incredibly old. After three weeks it was weighing on her, the burden getting heavier that she could feel her mind becoming vulnerable. The pain itself was easing and controllable. The hindrance of the cast was neither.
Mrs Clarkson had rung earlier to say her daughter has been admitted to hospital and that she would be unable to work. With Alex taking on the cooking that week, they had coped without her. Sydney had kept up with the laundry and managed light housework between writing stints. It was now Saturday, though, and with Alex due to be picked up by his father, Beatrice dreaded telling Sydney that she’d soon be back to cooking for the two of them.
Sydney had spent the last few days in the turret, ploughing through her work. Her absence at the kitchen table was noticeable; the woman was good company and Beatrice missed every moment of it. She relocated herself to her bedroom, where she would feel it less and where it was cooler. There she worked from either the bed or her sofa, or occasionally ventured outside into the sun.
If Sydney’s absence made afternoons and evenings miserable, mornings were something to look forward to. Sydney would appear, and they would spend an hour or so discussing sections of Beatrice’s adult life that her PA would be editing or even rewriting entirely that day. With Alex leaving later that afternoon, it was going to be a miserable, lonely week. Could she demand Sydney’s return to the kitchen table? For the company, of course.
The whiteness of her laptop screen mocked her inability to continue summarising the first eighteen years of her life. Maybe she had a mental block from the trauma; she’d never considered that before. Self-preservation at work. Her lack of focus for the last hour, however, was due to the noise coming from Sydney and Alex in the pool. The last time she’d poked her head out onto the balcony, she’d heard them arguing about who was the better swimmer.
Alison’s name flashed up on her mobile, reminding her she hadn’t taken it off silent following her nap. The distraction from her distractions was welcome.
“I’ve just finished reading the latest draft. I’m impressed, Bea. Bloody impressed. She’s worked miracles.”
“Indeed she has,” Beatrice replied. It was undeniable that Sydney had injected life into her life. “I hope she’ll finish by the end of next week so we can move on to my childhood.”
“How’s Xander?”
“It’s Alex now, apparently. I’m not sure what was wrong with Xander.”
“Oh! Okay. I’ll have to remember that when I write his birthday card.”
“Peter will be here later to collect him, and he’ll spend the week with him.”
“Where’s he living now?”
“Some flat on the outskirts of London,” Beatrice replied, wiping a speck of something off her laptop screen.
“Don’t let the arsehole get to you.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“And if he tries to discuss the divorce settlement, tell him to contact your solicitor.”
“Mm-hmm.” Whether Peter would listen was another thing.
“Okay, I’ll see you on Monday at the audition.”
A laugh alerted her that Sydney was still outside, no doubt enjoying herself when there was work to be done. What on earth did her PA and her son have in common that they could spend so much time discussing? It was time to find out.
She hung up the phone and made her way through the balcony doors, ensuring the crutches didn’t make any noise that would expose her. Sydney was directly below her, wearing a black bikini, her legs dangling in the water. Alex sat partially submerged on the steps beside her.
“I’ve told you my school nickname. Now you tell me yours,” Sydney said, pushing a wave of water toward him with her foot.
Damn, a minute earlier and she would have heard Sydney’s nickname.Thatshe would have liked to know.
“Nancy,” Alex uttered.
The name ripped through Beatrice. It was a name she knew well.
Sydney frowned. “Why is Nancy your nickname?”
