It Had to Be You (24 page)

Lizzy gazed round the small pristine garden and suddenly sobered up. Had she got it all wrong? Forget meeting Mr Right and having that thunderbolt moment. Was owning a posh barbie and ‘knocking along together’ what it was really all about?

‘One latte, one Americano,’ their waitress said.

‘Americano here.’

‘
Please
,’ Lizzy added. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told the waitress. ‘He doesn’t get out very often.’

Elliot ignored her. As usual he was absorbed with his iPad. Conversations – apart from disagreeing with Lizzy or holding her to ransom over an innocent comment she may have made about, say, the weather – were frequently punctuated by him breaking off to reply to texts and emails. Apparently being a high-profile financial journalist was a very important and time-consuming job.

She watched him frown intently at the screen. ‘What shampoo did you go for in the end?’

He glanced up. ‘What are you talking about?’

Lizzy got her copy of
heat
out. ‘You’re in their “Spotted” section. “News at Ten
hunk Elliot Anderson in Boots at Charing Cross looking confused as he tried to decide between Toni & Guy Volumising Shampoo and L’Oréal Elvive for Men.
”’ She put the magazine down. ‘
Do
you use volumising shampoo? You have got a lovely bounce.’

‘I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.’

She chortled and for the next few minutes contented herself with people watching until Elliot finally put his iPad away. ‘How was your weekend with your brother?’

It was Lizzy’s turn to look surprised. ‘How did you know I was with my brother?’

‘You tweeted a picture at 4 a.m. of you both with flowerpots on your head.’

Lizzy had absolutely no recollection of the incident. She’d woken up at midday to find the house in disarray and Robbie passed out face-down on the sofa. Hayley had been due back at 2 p.m. The brother and sister had done an emergency clear-up before Lizzie had scarpered, but despite texting and calling she hadn’t heard from Robbie since.

There was a more immediate issue than Robbie doing his usual AWOL act. ‘You follow me on Twitter?’ Lizzy rarely checked her new followers these days. After ‘Girl Who Gets Jilted …’ she had been horrified at the amount of people clustering like vultures waiting for her subsequent breakdown.

‘Quite a few people I know followed you after your YouTube debut. It’s hard to believe, I know, but you were quite big news at the time.’

‘You mean people like Mary Nightingale from the
News at Ten
follow me?’

‘I’m not sure if Mary does.’ Elliot arched an eyebrow. ‘She might have been put off by your incessant photos of cats in elf outfits.’

‘You still follow me.’

‘I follow hundreds of people, it’s my job. Don’t think you’re anything special.’

‘Elliot, if you really want the latest news on constipation products all you have to do is pick up the phone and call,’ she told him.

He did his ignoring thing again. ‘It’s the reason I found you when you broke down.’ He nodded at Lizzy’s phone. ‘Your tweet, and then I saw you were near because of location services on Twitter.’

‘And here I was thinking it was a random act of kindness.’ She gave him a quizzical smile. ‘Seriously, you came out to find us?’

He shrugged. ‘I was in the area.’

‘I want to know your service provider. We barely had a bar of reception between us the whole time we were there.’

‘You just have to know the right spots.’ He picked up the iPad again. ‘So was it a good weekend with your brother?’

‘Really good. I hope he’s not in too much trouble with his girlfriend, though.’

‘The bad sister leading him astray?’

‘That’s how Hayley sees it.’ Lizzy sighed.

Elliot gave her a keen look. Instead of his normal variation of dark suits he was wearing a moss-green jumper that matched his eyes. Lizzy wondered if it was deliberate. He was always well turned out and although Lizzy could never spot a label, it was obvious everything was top-end. Being engaged to a fashion designer had obviously rubbed off on him.

‘You’ve got a younger sister as well, haven’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, Lauren. She lives in New York.’ Lizzy paused. ‘Your sister lives in America, doesn’t she?’

‘Colorado.’ He didn’t volunteer any more information.

‘What’s she doing out there?’

‘Living in a famous hippy commune making wooden jewellery. Let’s say she took more after our mother.’ He gave Lizzy’s fox-print scarf a disparaging look. ‘I think you’d get on.’

A little boy on the next table had been staring at Elliot for some time now. ‘You’re like me.’ He pointed at his red hair.

‘Charlie!’ the boy’s mother admonished.

Unexpectedly, Elliot smiled and leant across towards them. ‘How old are you, Charlie?’

‘Four.’

‘Do you like having red hair?’

The boy shook his head. ‘Sometimes people call me names.’

‘Don’t you listen to them. They’re just jealous. Redheaded people have special powers, OK?’

‘Like a superhero?’ His little face lit up.

Elliot gave him a wink. ‘Like a superhero. We’re better than everyone else. Remember that, OK?’

Lizzy had been surprised and rather touched by the exchange. ‘Were you bullied at school?’

‘Of course I wasn’t bullied,’ he said irritably. ‘And I know it’s hard to believe but a person’s hair colour isn’t their one defining characteristic. We’re not all like Kim Kardashian.’

‘Oh, so you do know who she is. I thought all things celebrity were beneath you.’

‘Is this the way this conversation is going to go? I have got better things to be doing with my time.’

‘Temper, temper,’ she chided. ‘You don’t want to be living up to that red-headed cliché.’

‘Ditto with the ditzy blonde thing.’

Lizzy didn’t rise. Really, she could almost tune him out now if she wanted to. ‘So what did you do at the weekend?’

‘Went home.’

‘How’s your mum?’ she asked nonchalantly.

‘Fine. Why are you asking?’

‘Don’t look so suspicious. It’s not a rude question.’

‘My mother is fine. Still floating around on Planet Cassandra with no concept of what actually goes on in the real world.’

Lizzy put her coffee cup down. ‘Why do you hate your mum?’

She watched his eyes widen in shock. ‘I don’t hate my mum, what are you talking about?’

‘Then why are you so dismissive of her?’

‘I’m not dismissive of her.’

‘Yes, you are. All she wants to do is be part of your life. She’s up there at that Hall all by herself. Don’t you think she must be really lonely?’

‘If she sold the bloody place and got herself a cottage in a village somewhere, she wouldn’t have to be lonely.’

‘You’re her son. She needs you.’

‘My mother knows I’m there for her,’ he said gruffly.

‘Then why don’t you talk to her? She’s been really worried about you since you and Amber broke up.’

Elliot frowned. ‘How do you know?’

‘Um. Your mum kind of asked me to keep an eye on you …’

‘She did what?’ He looked appalled.

‘She meant well,’ Lizzy said hastily. ‘Don’t have a go at her about it.’

There was a long silence. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said finally. ‘My mother comes across as this larger-than-life character, but you wouldn’t say that if she was your mother. My parents meant well, but they were bloody useless. Our home life was utterly shambolic. I used to have to buy and wrap everyone’s presents at Christmas, mine included. I was the one, aged eleven years old, who had to deal with the electricity board when we were about to be cut off, and somehow find the money for wages when the estate staff hadn’t been paid. My mum and dad’s idea of good parenting was leaving Skyla and I to do whatever we wanted, and thinking it was OK to turn up at my school with whatever was left of the family silver to pay the fees for that term.’ He shook his head. ‘And then there was the time they thought it would be a good idea to do a duet guitar recital at the end-of-term assembly. That wasn’t embarrassing
at
all.’

‘I’m sure they were only doing their best.’

‘So now she wants to take an interest in my life at the age of thirty-two?’ he asked tartly. ‘I’ve managed perfectly well without her until now.’

‘Have you ever thought that she might need
you
?’

‘I needed her when I was growing up! Everyone thought I had these cool, bohemian parents but I used to get so jealous when all the other kids would come back to school after being at home for the weekend and they’d have all sat down with their families for a Sunday roast. Meal times didn’t exist in our house; Skyla and I just ate when and what we wanted.’ He gave Lizzy a sideways glance. ‘You know, I ran away from home once in protest when I was eight. I went and camped out in the woods overnight, but then the next morning I felt bad about upsetting my parents, so I went home. You know what they said when I got back?’

‘I imagine they were pretty pissed off.’

‘They hadn’t even noticed I’d gone.’

‘Oh Elliot,’ Lizzy said softly.

‘My mum thinks she gave me this wonderful unconstrained upbringing, but all
I
wanted was someone to tell me what to do once in a while. Look, I’m not saying I had an abused childhood by any means, but now maybe you understand why I wouldn’t put my mother up for Mum of The Year. And I know I’m a grumpy git,’ he went on, ‘but when you’re the only grown-up in your family at age seven, you don’t exactly end up being a devil-may-care kind of person.’

‘Why don’t you tell your mum how you feel?’

Elliot rolled the dregs of his coffee around in the bottom of his cup. ‘It’s too late. There’s nothing she can do about it now.’

‘It’s never too late. If you told your mother how you really felt, she’d at least understand why you’re so angry with her.’

‘Maybe,’ he admitted after a long pause.

‘I do get where you’re coming from,’ Lizzy told him. ‘But you have to let go of things, there’s no point letting them sit inside you and fester. Everyone needs their family,’ she sighed. ‘If I held a grudge against
my
mum for some of the stuff she’s said and done, we’d have stopped speaking years ago.’

‘I can’t imagine your mother inviting a bunch of naturalists to stay for a whole summer.’

‘Maybe not,’ Lizzy laughed. ‘But I’m sure Cassandra was only doing her best. And you know she’s always loved you. Isn’t that enough?’

‘You think I’m being pig-headed, don’t you?’

She looked at him amusedly. ‘I just think you need to lighten up.’

There was a wistful smile. ‘Amber used to say that.’

There it was again. That look of such deep sadness and
regret.
Lizzy had almost started to forget the reason they’d started meeting in the first place. As she looked at his stricken face it was obvious that Elliot was still finding it hard to move on.

She wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Have you spoken to her?’

‘No.’ He stood abruptly and started to gather his things up. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

The girls were spending the evening at Poppet’s. Despite the fact Christmas was still over two months away, there was a home-made wreath on the mantelpiece and pinecones on the hearth.

Going round to Poppet’s flat was like stepping back in time. An aroma of lavender and rose petal hit you as soon as you walked through the front door, while the hallway was lined with framed sepia photographs. In the living room there was an old-school TV that Nic complained gave her migraines because the screen was so small, and an antique display unit Poppet had got off eBay to house her vintage teacup collection. She was the only person Lizzy had ever met who took her own embroidered napkin to eat in Pret A Manger.

The hostess came back into the living room carrying a tray. ‘Gingerbread cake,’ she announced. ‘It’s still warm from the oven.’

‘Mmm,’ Lizzy and Nic said. They were both on their phones.

‘I swear you’re a ninety-year-old woman trapped in a young person’s body.’ Nic was sitting on Poppet’s Laura Ashley love seat, her legs splayed out like a bloke’s. ‘You’d be happy in a bygone era where women rode round on penny farthings and had gentlemen walkers.’

Poppet started to cut slices. ‘You may scoff but I’ll have you know I’m part of a revolution.’

‘Are you, Pops?’ Lizzy was still scrolling through Twitter.

‘I was reading about it the other day. People like me are part of this thing called “The Home-grown Revolution”. More and more young women are rejecting modern consumerism and going out every Saturday night and are choosing to stay in instead to knit and make their own jam and stuff. It’s all about getting back to the simple things.’ She looked excited. ‘I was thinking about going foraging on Clapham Common for my dinner tomorrow.’

‘That’s nice, Pops.’ Lizzy had started following Elliot, but he wasn’t very interesting and was always going on about stuff to do with decimal points and indexes. She reread the tweet about something called: ‘QE3’. What did banking have to do with cruise ships?

‘For God’s sake!’ Poppet suddenly cried.

Lizzy nearly jumped out of her seat. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

‘Look at you both! I invite you round and make you nice things and all you do is sit there on your phones ignoring me. I may as well not be here!’

Chastened, Lizzy put the phone down. ‘Sorry, Pops.’

‘Sorry isn’t enough! No one talks any more! What would our ancestors think if they were to look at us now? We’re supposedly living in this enlightened age and all we’re doing is regressing as human beings! No one
listens
to anyone any more.’

‘I think that’s a bit harsh …’

‘Be quiet, I’m talking! At this rate we’ll be giving birth to children with monstrously sized index fingers who can only communicate through the power of emoticons! Forget type two diabetes, “Scrollitis” will be the thing that takes down the NHS!’ Poppet punched an embroidered cushion. ‘I’m part of a revolution! And I’m rising up and taking back the lost art of conversation!’

She sat back and looked pointedly at Nic.

‘What’s that?’ Nic asked. ‘I’ve just got to send this email.’