would they?’ She paused. ‘I’m going away for a while,’ she added, ‘but you should be able to get me on my mobile.’
‘Did you say you’re going away?’ Jules bellowed. ‘This line is terrible. Where are you going? You should carry on as normal, you know. Otherwise you make the police suspicious.’
‘I can’t carry on as normal,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve got no work. Everything’s fallen through because of this thing with Dudley and Amelia. I’ve been totally contaminated and until Dudley is exonerated, I’m a pariah.’
‘Bloody unfair,’ Jules said. ‘Look, you know we’d ask you to stay with us except that the kitchen’s being redone and all the stuff is in storage, and the place is a total mess.’
‘I think it’s about time I looked after myself,’ Lizzie said drily, ‘but thank you for the thought.’ She paused. ‘I’m going to The High.’
‘I thought you didn’t like that house because it reminds you of your father,’ Jules said. ‘Still, it’s not a bad idea. At least it would be a bolthole and Avery would keep an eye on you. She may be ninety but she would see the paps off with a pitchfork.’
Lizzie smiled. She’d forgotten about Avery, her grandmother’s oldest friend. Avery could be quite terrifying.
‘Are you taking anyone with you?’ Jules demanded. ‘Bill? Kat Ashley? I thought they were always hanging around?’
‘I think we’re all a bit tired of each other,’ Lizzie said carefully. ‘We need some time out.’
‘Well,’ Jules said, with her customary forthrightness, ‘I’ve thought for years that it was all rather unhealthy. But you’re a celebrity, Lizzie. They’re not like other people, or so I’m told. Apparently, you need people to smooth your path through life and protect you.’
‘That’s rubbish made up by celebrities to justify being spoiled,’ Lizzie said, laughing. ‘It’s infantilising and it’s about time I got real.’
‘Good for you,’ Jules said warmly. Her voice changed. ‘You’re not taking Dudley with you either, I hope?’
‘No Dudley,’ Lizzie said firmly.
‘Good,’ Jules said. ‘There’s no one else, I suppose?’
Lizzie thought involuntarily of Arthur and forced herself to stop thinking about him immediately.
‘Jules,’ she said. ‘Stop trying to marry me off.’
‘You don’t have to marry anyone!’ Jules stopped and for a moment Lizzie thought she was in for another diatribe, but instead her cousin’s tone softened a little. ‘This self-imposed celibacy is ridiculous, Lizzie,’ Jules said. ‘We all have needs, for God’s sake. It’s perfectly normal. You’ll turn into a sexless, dried-up old prune at this rate.’
‘Oh God,’ Lizzie said. ‘How did we come to be talking about my sex life now? Jules, I do appreciate your concern, but it’s hardly that extreme. I just haven’t found anyone I like yet, that’s all.’
Jules ploughed on. ‘You’re surrounded by users. You need someone on your side! Dudley’s a rotter, Bill’s a snake and Kat’s a hanger-on. Get rid of them all and find someone who cares about you like we all do.’
‘Thank you, Jules,’ Lizzie said, a lump in her throat. ‘I love you all too.’
‘Got to go,’ Jules said. ‘The twins are fighting. See you soon, darling!’
Lizzie was smiling as she ended the call. She glanced around the room at the piles of clothes and half-filled suitcases. It would be good to see Juliet and her family again and spend some time with them.
Her phone rang again, startling her. In the past few days it had barely rung at all. None of her so-called friends had wanted to be associated with the toxic mess that was her life at the moment.
She didn’t recognise the number and was tempted to allow it to go to voicemail but something prompted her to answer.
‘Lizzie?’ She recognised the voice at once, young, breathless, desperate. ‘It’s Johnny Robsart.’
‘Johnny?’ Lizzie almost dropped the phone. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m outside,’ Johnny said. ‘I need to see you.’
‘Come up,’ Lizzie said at once. ‘Top floor, take the lift. I’ll be waiting.’
‘I’m out in the street,’ Johnny said. She could hear the quiver in his voice. ‘They wouldn’t let me into the foyer. They threatened to call the police. Can you come down and meet me?’
‘Sure,’ Lizzie said. She was already halfway to the door. ‘I’m on my way down. Don’t move. I’ll be right there.’
Chapter 12
Amy: The Tower of London, March 1554
‘Mind your step,’ the warder said, steadying me with a hand under my elbow as I slipped on the worn stone in the half dark. I could hear the drip of water and feel the moisture and the despair that permeated the air. My