“How is Beau, Doc?” I ask, making Fury look at the old man too, obviously wanting an answer to that question as well.

  He starts fiddling with the machine. “I’ll never get used to the fact that patient confidentiality doesn’t feature in my life anymore.” His words prompt me for the first time to wonder about Doc. I know he was retired. I know he ran his own practice for a long time. I know between Danny and James he now earns more than he probably ever has. But something tells me the money isn’t what keeps him here. And, oddly, neither is the possibility of death should he refuse to be on standby for our big, fucked-up family. “She’s in a state of heightened grief,” Doc says quietly, smiling at me as he gets the machine ready. “She’s going to need you, Rose.”

  I nod and settle, and Fury leaves us, letting Doc do his thing or, more to the point, Danny’s thing, while I wonder what I could possibly do to help Beau. I come up with nothing, and that just makes me feel like a shitty friend. I know how desperately I want her to find and keep her peace; the blows just keep coming and coming for her, so I can only imagine the level of desperation James must feel. And hopelessness.

  “Everything looks just fine,” Doc says, bringing my eyes down to my stomach where he’s dragging the probe across my abdomen.

  “You may as well leave that machine in here,” I say, propping myself up on my elbows to look at the screen. “He’ll be ordering another scan tomorrow.” I smile at the gray, distorted blob, my mind going to bad, bad places. “Doc?” I ask quietly, making his gray bushy eyebrows rise in question. “Can you see the sex?” I spit out the words quickly and press my lips together.

  “Oh.” He laughs, and then his face is quickly serious. “No, I cannot.”

  “You’re lying,” I counter playfully. “You know, don’t you? Come on, Doc, I promise I won’t tell.” I’m suddenly ravenous to know. Desperate. And yet there’s still that side of me that doesn’t want to spoil the surprise.

  “No.” He wipes the probe and slips it back in the holder. “I have paused the screen so that your husband may have a peek at his . . .” He fades off, looking out the corner of his eye at me. “. . . baby, if he should like.”

  “Spoilsport,” I mutter.

  “You and Mr. Black come to me together and make such a request, I will more than happily oblige.”

  “It’s my body.”

  Doc laughs, pushing the machine to the side of the room. “I don’t think Mr. Black will agree. Now, remember what I’ve told you?”

  “Yes, I must take it easy and not stress out.” Landing a tried look on him, I sigh. “Did you miss who I’m married to, Doc?”

  “I did not, which is why I am passionate about you taking care of yourself and the baby.” He presents me with a little bottle. “Lavender oil. Put it in your bath, on your pillow, in your purse if you must. It’s soothing, physically and mentally.” He sets it on the nightstand.

  “Thank you.” I fall to my back. “Can I ask you something?”

  “No,” he says flatly, and I pout.

  “You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

  “Exactly. I have always lived by the rule that if someone asks you if they may ask you something, you either won’t like the question or they won’t like the answer.”

  “Oh.” I consider his logic for a moment, and I soon think better of asking my question. I can’t, however, decide whether Doc would not like me asking him why he’s here, or whether I would not like the answer.

  “How is your palm?” He cranes his head as he packs his bag, and I turn it over to show him the mild red blemish from my frying pan incident.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “And your arm?”

  I look at yet another injury on my body. It’s nothing compared to Danny’s chest. “It’s fine.”

  “And Danny’s changing his dressings regularly?”

  “Yes,” I sigh, knowing why he won’t let me do it. “Just now before you got here.”

  “I’ll leave some more waterproof dressings and fresh bandages here.” He pops some on the nightstand and collects his bag. “Perhaps you could pop in to see Beau now. I believe Mr. Kelly has left the house with Mr. Black.”

  I nod and sit up. “Any advice?” I ask.

  “Patience.” He smiles as he backs out of the door. “Lots of love and patience.” He disappears, and I get up, taking a shower and throwing on a loose blush-pink sundress and some flip-flops. I coil my hair into a bun, then I call Esther.

  “How’s Daniel?” I ask, letting myself out onto the terrace. I cast my eyes around the expansive area, rewinding to three years ago. Three years ago when a missile took the old terrace out with me on it. I flinch, hearing Danny bellowing my name, scrambling to reach me as I dangled precariously off the edge. Scared to let go. But even more scared not to. Because I had fallen in love with the monster who’d taken me, and the repercussions of that were terrifying.

  “He’s out with Barney and his father again,” Esther says, sounding a little flat and short, bringing me back to the present. “They collected him when his tutor left after lunch.”

  “I’ll try his cell,” I reply, lowering to a sun lounger and looking across to the tennis courts. “Lawrence?”

  “Working.”

  “Does he know about what’s happened? About Beau’s mom?”

  “Well, I haven’t told him,” she says, as the sound of crockery clatters in the background. “It’s not my place.”

  “And you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  My head tilts. She doesn’t sound fine. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right,” I say slowly. I won’t push it. There’s little point. I expect it has something to do with Otto being here and Esther being there but, again, I’m not pushing it. “I appreciate you taking care of Daniel.” Esther takes care of everyone. It’s second nature to her, but I would hate for her to feel unappreciated.

  “He’s settled. Best not disrupt him.” She’s saying out loud what she’s told herself endlessly. That this was her decision. We all know better, including Otto, and I can’t imagine it went down well with him. “I had better scoot. I have a pie in the oven. I need both hands to get it out.”

  Or she could switch me to loudspeaker. “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up and consider my cell for a few moments. She doesn’t want to be in St. Lucia because Otto is no longer in St. Lucia. I never appreciated that Danny was being tactical when he asked Esther to remain behind to look after Daniel so that his studies weren’t affected. For me, it was more about safety. My husband, as always, is one step ahead.

  I dial Daniel, and it rings and rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. I don’t bother leaving one as he won’t listen to it, so I text him instead, requesting a call back at his earliest convenience. A small part of me, selfishly, is sad he’s too busy with his friend to take my call. A bigger part is relieved he’s distracted from the cruel world we live in. God, I miss that boy, even though he doesn’t exactly give me much these days. A brief hug. A quick “love ya, Mom” as he dashes out the door. He’s smart, and we would be stupid to underestimate him. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out what Danny does. Who his family is.

  I leave the room, finding it so ridiculous that I take deep breaths between my room and Beau’s, bracing myself, nervous to see her. I knock and get no invite to enter, of course, so I let myself in. I find the room shrouded in darkness, the curtains pulled, the lights all off. “Beau?” I call quietly, squinting to try and see her on the bed, the light from the corridor helping. She’s curled up on her side, facing away from me, and even though I can’t see her face, I can feel her anguish. My heart constricts and I close the door, walking in a straight line to the curtains and tweaking them just a fraction so that a slither of light takes the room from pitch-black to hazy.

  I go to the bed and climb in with her, lying opposite, mirroring her pose, my praying hands under my cheek. Her eyes remain closed. Her body still. “I think Otto’s pissed off with Esther,” I say quietly. “For letting Danny dictate what she would be doing.” I get no acknowledgement, and I didn’t expect one. “Daniel’s out with Barney and his hot father again. He’s probably not even noticed I’ve gone. What do you think about me getting a job?” I ask. “Something part-time. Not too strenuous. Do you think I’ll be allowed?”

  Her eyelids flicker, and I hold my breath, praying she can bring herself to open them and face me. Face the world. I smile when she eventually reveals glassy blue eyes. “No,” she says on a croak, and I pout.

  “Do you miss working?”

  “All the time,” she whispers. “If I was working now, I would be hunting the cunts who have taken my mother. Instead, I have to stand back and let the men around here solve my problems. Problems I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t here.” Her eyes close again, and I flinch, mainly for James, but a little for me too. Our lives aren’t conventional. They’re tough, draining, emotional. But better than empty, hollow, and dark.

  “You sound like you’re considering walking away,” I say tentatively, certain she would never, but not certain enough. After all, everyone has a breaking point, and as I look at my friend now, my beautiful, resilient, strong former cop friend, I wonder if this is hers.

  “I am,” she says flatly.

  “Beau,” I breathe, releasing my hands from under my head and taking one of hers. “Things will be right again.”

  “Will they?” she asks, looking at me. “Will they really, Rose? Because every time I think I’m in a place of acceptance and semi peace, someone launches a missile that seems to hit one of us in the gut and we’re back to square one. Constantly chasing tranquility. Always hoping for calm. Quiet.”

  This isn’t my friend. This . . . negativity. I don’t like it on her. We never both seem to be in the same headspace, one of us always holding up the other. “I don’t like this version of you,” I say without thought.

  “This version of me is who I am, Rose. It’s who I’ve been since Mom died. I thought, hoped, James was what changed that. I was wrong.”

  I want to yell at her for being so beaten, but I cannot. I have been there myself many times, but I am certain I have not sounded as resolute as Beau sounds now. I’m worried. This cannot be the end for them. She cannot let them take all hope from inside of her. No. I refuse to allow it. I want to slap the strength back into her. But brute force isn’t going to work. I need to be tactical. And perhaps a little sneaky.

  God forgive me for this.

  “I’ll be back, Doc needs to scan me.” I get up and go to the door, opening it, finding Fury on the other side. “Will you fetch Doc?” I whisper, making him frown but nod, as I pull the door closed behind me. I go back to our room and push the machine over to the bed, kick my flip-flops off, then climb in, pulling my sundress up to my chest.

  Doc walks in with a mighty frown, Fury following. “Pretend to scan me,” I order.

  “What?”

  “Just hold the stick on my tummy.” I point to the screen. “Baby, whatever sex it may be, is still on the screen. That’ll do.”

  “I expect there is a method to your madness.” He approaches and settles on the edge of the bed, taking the probe to my stomach and resting it there.

  “Go tell Beau I need her,” I say to Fury, who inhales, seeing where I’m going with this.

  “Oh, crafty,” Doc says, smiling up at me.

  Actually, I’m desperate. I rest my head back on the pillow, breathe in, and only three seconds pass before Beau is at the door, her clothes as crumpled as her hair is messy, her sleepy eyes scanning me, her tear-stained face being roughly wiped with the back of her hand. “What’s happened?” she croaks, her voice rough.

  I lift a hand and reach for her, silently beckoning her to me, and she comes, of course she comes, carrying her desolate body over and sitting on the bed. She takes my hand and squeezes, looking at Doc as he plays the game with me.

  “Just a few more twinges,” I say, hating myself for being so manipulative, for using my unborn child as bait, but I reassure myself it’s for a good cause.

  “Doc?” Beau asks, sniffling and wiping her nose as he concentrates on doing absolutely nothing of any importance. “Is everything okay? Do I need to call Danny?”

  “No, no,” he says quickly, pressing a button. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Baby is absolutely fine.”

  I see Beau physically relax, her hand tightening around mine. I knew she wouldn’t let me down. I wish she could be as strong for herself and James as she always seems to be for me.

  “Is that a penis?” she asks out of nowhere, leaning into the machine.

  “What?” I sit up quickly, making Doc lose his grip on the probe and therefore its place on my stomach. Shit. I quickly lie back down and he rushes to replace it before Beau figures out we’re big fat frauds. “A penis?” I ask, straining to see the frozen image of my baby.

  “Yeah, there.” She takes a pointed finger to the screen. “See?”

  “No, that’s the umbilical cord,” Doc says over a laugh. “A bit long for a penis on a sixteen-week pregnancy.”

  “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” I say. “You’ve not seen his father’s bits.”

  Doc chokes on nothing, and Beau shoots her eyes to me, shocked. I shrug. And it happens. Her lips twitch, and it is life.

  “You’re terrible,” Doc sighs.

  “Terribly loose,” I mutter, and Beau chuckles. “To be expected, I suppose. This kid is going to fall out of me.”

  “Rose!” Beau shrieks, falling to the bed beside me. I look at Doc, and he smiles, nodding, telling me it’s a job well done, but I’m quickly frowning, and Beau shoots up. “Wait,” she says. “Are you saying there is no penis at all?”

  My eyebrow lifts, curious for Doc’s answer.

  “No, Beau, I said it was the umbilical cord, not a penis.”

  “So there is a penis?”

  “I . . . it’s . . .” He blows out his cheeks.

  “You do know what’s in there,” she says, pointing to the screen.

  I love how curious she is. “Tell Beau,” I demand, making them both swing stunned looks my way.

  “What?” she asks. “No, Rose, you’ve always said you like the element of surprise.”

  “I don’t want to know,” I confirm. “But I want you to know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She bites her lip. “And you don’t want me to tell you?”

  “Can you manage that?”

  “I used to be a cop, Rose,” she says, placing her hands over both of my ears and blocking my view to Doc, so that when he tells her if I’m having a boy or a girl, I can’t lip-read him. She soon frees my ears, looking at me, her smile wide. I’m not even going to ask. All I care about is that smile on her face. I know it’s temporary. This is a brief distraction. But it gives me hope. She’s not all out.

  “Happy?” I ask.

  “Thrilled.”

  “Good. Now you can teach me how to drive.” I pull my dress down and get up.

  “What? Where?”

  “Around here,” I say as Beau’s phone starts ringing in the distance. She looks toward the door, and I notice Fury is still on the threshold.

  He holds up her cell. “Mr. Hayley.”

  “I’ll call him back.”

  I’m certain her father has heard what’s happened to Beau’s mother’s remains. She won’t want to discuss it, least of all with him, and I don’t force it. Because, honestly, I’m relieved. She’s up and about. Okay, looking like hell, but at least she’s responsive. “Thought you could teach me in Dolly,” I say, my steadfast determination never wavering. I know that old, rusty, banging thing brings her peace. Closer to her mother. But she cannot drive it. At least, not outside the grounds of the mansion. No one said anything about inside the grounds. I link arms with her and lead us to her room. “Perhaps wash your face first.”

  “That bad?” she asks, reaching for her cheeks and wiping.

  “Like death on a bad day.”

  She laughs lightly, coming in closer to me. “I love you, Rose.”

  And perhaps, I hope, on top of her undying love for James, our friendship is another reason for Beau to stick this out. “I love you too,” I whisper.

  * * *

  I chew on the inside of my lip as Beau fiddles under the hood of Dolly, trying to get her started. Her denim shorts are riding up her ass, her long, smooth legs glimmering in the sun. “If I were a man, I’d be wolf-whistling at you right now.”

  “I think the battery is dead,” she says over a laugh, coming up for air, oil smeared across her cheek. She wipes it and considers the engine for a few moments. “Are any of the cars here?”

  “There’s one out front.”

  “Wait here,” she orders, jogging off. I check my phone, as if I wouldn’t hear it if it rang in my hand. Damn that kid. Just a call, that’s all I ask. A check in. Anything. I exhale and start a slow wander down the pathway, eventually reaching the stream that leads to the pool. I look down into the water at my reflection staring back. My hair falls forward, covering my face. It needs cutting. Maybe I’ll book Beau and myself in for a pamper day. I smile at the thought of Fury having a pedicure alongside us. It drops when I consider the fact that despite being unreasonably gorgeous, Beau is also the least girlie girl I know. Not that I know many girls. Still, it isn’t about being girlie. It’s about rest and relaxation.

  Calm.

  I shake my head to myself as I pull my hair back and fasten it with a tie. I’m not sure any amount of pampering could rest or relax us. Stress is inbuilt now. We just condition ourselves to handle it. Soak it up. Or not so, as Doc kindly pointed out. But I must, or the alternative will be Danny caging me.

  I hear a car and turn, seeing Beau pulling up with Otto. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I approach and Otto goes to the trunk of Dolly. I thought all the men were out on business.

  “I needed to pick up something.” He appears a few seconds later with some leads of some kind.

  “What?” I ask, watching as he flips the hood of the Mercedes and squeezes some metal claw things.