Page 92 of Broken Beyond Repair
“Someone close to you?”
“They were, not now,” she answered, licking her dry lips.
She took a deep breath, her lungs finally giving in to her desperate need for air.
“These symptoms you’ve been experiencing can manifest with grief,” the doctor continued cautiously. “If you’ve recently lost someone—”
“They’re not dead. They’re just not part of my life anymore.”
“And that… pains you.”
Beatrice gave the smallest of nods, reaching for the glass and taking another gulp of water.
“And may I ask if this person was a love interest?”
“You’re not suggesting I’m lovesick, are you?” Her hand went to her mouth, partly to choke down a laugh but also because the contents of her stomach were threatening to make an appearance at any minute.
The doctor casually returned to his seat. “There is a root cause to most ailments, Miss Russell. I can give you some beta blockers to take daily; that will help keep the physical symptoms at bay while you…” He waved his hand. He never finished the sentence, and she exited his office a minute later with a prescription for a condition she definitely didn’t have.
She pulled her phone from her handbag, texting Connie to bring the car around. It was waiting for her as she stepped from the elevator and crossed the lobby. Her elderly driver was standing beside the open car door as she pounded down the steps and across the sidewalk.
Connie was waiting for her inside, working away on her laptop.
How could she, Beatrice Russell, be lovesick? What a ridiculous notion. She was going to need to get a second opinion, a proper opinion. There had been little time to think about Sydney. Admittedly she’d called Connie by Sydney’s name for the first month she’d worked for her, but it was difficult to remember everyone’s name. It wasn’t like every time she spoke to Connie, she hoped Sydney would answer. That was only about 90 percent of the time. In the few moments between the crazy, her thoughts may have drifted to Sydney as they did when she went to sleep and when she woke. When she thought she was dying during her first panic attack, of course Sydney was there in her mind. She certainly wasn’t sitting in the car now with her eyes closed, imagining it was Sydney driving.
Shit!
She was lovesick.
It would pass. It had to. If it didn’t, she was unlikely to have a career left. Then everything would have been in vain. Filming had run over by a day due to her forgetting her lines and experiencing brain fog. The crew weren’t pleased, and the production company was furious as it hit them in their pockets every day they ran over.
She’d take the beta blockers and find more things to distract her.
“I’ll need these before my flight to New York tonight,” she said, passing the prescription slip to Connie.
CHAPTER34
Beatrice studied herself in the mirror as the final curl dropped down from a curler and bounced against her cheek. The stylist made a few further adjustments to the hair that framed her face and then left the room. She was alone at last with her thoughts — as she preferred to be before she went onstage. Tonight was a big night. She was in the first slot with the most popular late-night talk show host in America to promote her latest film release and autobiography.
Her flight back to the UK — where she would finally have a few weeks off over Christmas — was early the next morning. Time off to do what, though? Her busy schedule was the only thing keeping her close to sane. She covered a yawn with her hand. Sleep would be the first thing on the agenda. She could have done without this stopover in New York for the talk show.
It would be the first time she returned to Highwood House since she’d left it in the summer. She hadn’t been ready to deal with any feelings being alone at Highwood would bring during her short returns to the UK. It wouldn’t feel the same without Sydney there. She didn’t feel ready now either, yet it wasn’t practical to stay in a hotel or at Alison’s over Christmas. She knew one day she was going to have to go back there, and armed with the beta blockers the doctor gave her, it was time. She could see herself wandering around Highwood House in her red dress, Miss Havisham style, pining for her lost love.
She sucked in a breath, feeling her face flush at the mere thought of Sydney. Something she’d come to realise was the first sign of an anxiety attack. She reached for the packet in her handbag and pushed a pill out of its silver housing. She’d feel better in ten minutes, just in time to go on air. First her leg, now this. It was ridiculous for her body to be behaving like this over anyone. It was tantamount to a tantrum — over an ex-assistant! At least she was in ‘perfect shape’; that she liked to hear.
A copy of her autobiography on her dressing table caught her eye. A crew member had asked her to sign it for her so she could give it to her sister for Christmas — anotherNancyfan. Taking the pen that had been left on top of it, she opened the cover and scribbled her signature onto the title page. As she closed it, her eyelids shut as she let out a sigh. She’d spent the summer being truthful and honest in her autobiography — at least truthful about the parts she was able to share — and now she felt she would be promoting it to the world dishonestly. That didn’t sit well. Nothing about any of it sat well, particularly the way she’d felt over the last three months since she’d parted with Sydney. After the panic attack, the nausea was the worst.
A knock at the door made her jump. A production assistant popped her head around the door.
“Miss Russell, I have someone asking to see you.”
Beatrice stood, smoothing down her asymmetrical, scarlet dress that hung off one shoulder. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and they certainly didn’t let just anyone wander around the studio.
The door reopened and a grinning Alex entered the room.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Alex! What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were staying at your father’s for Christmas.”
