Page 9

“Liz?”

“Um, I need to talk to you. Can you come? I’m at St. Elizabeth’s.”

“The hospital?” Bea said, mouth falling open. She gathered herself. “Er, why? Are you alright?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Liz groaned. “But… I’ve broken my leg.”

LIZ WAS LYING in a bed with one heavily bandaged leg raised by a pulley system when Bea rushed in.

“I told you,” Bea wailed. “I told you that the universe was listening. You can’t curse ex-boyfriends to fall down the stairs and break their legs and then expect that there won’t be repercussions.”

“Calm down,” said Liz, looking pale but otherwise better than Bea had expected. “Did Robbie break his leg?”

“No,” said Bea.

“Well then, I didn’t curse him, did I? And I didn’t fall down the stairs, just for info.”

Bea pulled a chair up beside the bed. “What did happen then?”

Liz sniffed and looked away. “I was changing the bathroom lightbulb and… fell off the ladder.”

Bea groaned. “That’s practically the same thing,” she said.

“Oh, quit your superstitious clap-trap,” Liz said. “I didn’t askyou here to fill me with doom and gloom. I’m in hospital, I’ve got quite enough of that already.”

“When can you go home?” Bea asked, thinking of Liz’s husband and their adorable dog.

“They’re operating tomorrow morning once the swelling’s gone down a bit. After that, it should just be a day or so. They can’t keep me down for long, you know how I am,” grinned Liz. “And then I’ll be back to Pina Coladas and watching Loose Women.”

Bea frowned. “Um, just how stoned are you right now?”

Liz beamed. “High as a kite, my little friend. Practically a satellite at this point. It’s terribly lovely, you know. Want to try some?” She began to fiddle with the IV in her arm.

“No, no,” said Bea, putting her hand over Liz’s.

“Please yourself, more for me,” Liz said, settling again. “Anyway, I’ve asked you here…” She giggled. “I sound like Hercule Poirot inviting all the suspects together in the drawing room to reveal the murderer, don’t I?”

Bea sighed. “Maybe we should try and stay on task? You need my help with something, right?”

“Right,” said Liz solemnly. “Very helpful that you are.” Another giggle. “And now I sound like Yoda.”

“I’m not a fantastic cook,” said Bea. “But I can go around to yours and whip up a few things to put in the freezer for Den. He’s not vegan anymore, is he?”

“Oh no, he eats all the little animals now.”

“Right. And do you want me to take Brandi to my place? I can make sure she’s walked and fed and—”

Liz suddenly clamped a heavy hand over Bea’s. “Why are you acting like my husband’s an imbecile? He’s very capable of taking care of himself and the dog. He’s a grown man. You don’t need to be running after him and looking after him, I certainly don’t.”

“Ah,” said Bea. “Right. Yes.”

Liz struggled to push herself up on her pillows, wincing a little as she did so. “No, no. Den’s fine.” She took a deep breath, like she was trying to sober herself up. “Den’s fine. Brandi’s fine. I’ll befine. It’s the yoga that’s not fine.”

“Hard to do yoga with a broken leg,” Bea agreed.

“Exactamundo,” said Liz, looking serious. “Which is why today is your lucky day, my lovely little friend.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me little,” Bea said. “And lucky how exactly?”