Modern Romance May 2015 Books 1-8. Кейт Хьюит

stood out darkly against her pallor before he looked away, reminding himself that any sleepless night she had she had more than earned—in making him the monster she had made herself the victim.

      ‘How about you, Mari? Are you having a good day?’

      Mari lifted her chin. She could hear the malicious mockery in his voice, even if no one else could.

      She gazed up at him, feeling a loathing that she had not known she was capable of. ‘I told myself it couldn’t get worse but here you are...’

      Mari hadn’t been spared his presence. Even on the rare occasions she had managed to drift off into a light troubled sleep he’d been there every night. She was grateful that the details of those feverish dreams had slipped away but the snatches that lingered left a heavy visceral sensation of discomfort in the pit of her stomach.

      ‘Well, this has been delightful catching up, Miss Jones,’ he said with false sincerity designed to aggravate and annoy. The regret he expressed as he glanced towards the suits who had tactfully moved out of hearing distance was equally false and teeth clenching. ‘I’d love to stay and chat but I’m afraid...’

      Mari watched, a hundred insults unsaid as he calmly strolled away without a backward glance, the message clear in the set of his broad shoulders: she was dismissed. She was unimportant; she didn’t even register on his radar.

       Do you want to?

      Ignoring this unhelpful intrusion from her mind, she stood there fighting a self-destructive impulse to chase after him. As much as she really wanted the last word, she knew it would come at a price.

      Even thinking about the price last time sent her pulse racing. She had precious little dignity left, so she didn’t want to throw away what she had for the satisfaction of telling him what she thought of him.

      Gathering her wits, she stood for a few moments after the group, with Seb’s dark head clearly visible above the heads of the shorter men, had vanished through a swinging door.

      Hiding her trepidation under a cheery smile, she stepped into her brother’s room. ‘Hello, how are you feeling?’

      The previous day Mark’s mood had see-sawed between apathy and anger, so it was an intense relief to see the animation in his face.

      ‘So you look better.’ If her voice sounded too bright Mark didn’t notice.

      ‘I am feeling quite good... Take a look at this, Mari.’

      Mari took a seat and began to flick through the glossy brochure that he handed her.

      ‘Do you see what it says about this place? Just look at the statistics, Mari.’ Eagerly he watched her face. ‘Impressive or what?’

      Mari grunted. She was looking at the fees, and there were numbers there that made her heart sink like a stone. ‘Where did this come from, Mark?’ She could not imagine that the hospital went around touting customers for this very expensive private clinic.

      ‘Oh, I had a visitor—he left it for me to look at. Fleur’s brother.’

      Mari managed an expression of surprise, which her brother responded to with a laugh.

      ‘I know, coincidence or what? It turns out he’s on the hospital board or something. He said that this place has 24/7, one-to-one intensive therapy, all the latest technology.’

      She put down the booklet with a sigh. ‘Oh, God, Mark, you know there’s no way we can afford this.’ And it was hard to think of what had motivated Sebastian Defoe to give Mark this unless it was malice.

      Was he really that cruel or vengeful?

      And why was she even putting a question mark after the thought? He obviously was!

      A determined look that Mari recognised all too well slid into her twin’s eyes. ‘There has to be a way—your credit rating is good...’

      Mari, the phone call from the head teacher still very much on her mind, hated bringing her twin back down to earth. ‘You know my job doesn’t pay that sort of money, Mark.’ Nobody went into teaching for the salary. ‘I barely make ends meet as it is.’

      ‘We could sell something.’

      Mari’s heart broke for him. ‘Look, Mark, I’ll do what I can, but I doubt very much in the meantime—’

      ‘I could ask Fleur. Her family is loaded, and Fleur was always saying her big brother takes the responsibility stuff seriously—giving back to the community and all that.’

      ‘His sister said that?’

      Mark, propped up on his pillows, shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, it’s all about appearances, isn’t it? And he can afford it. I thought you could have a word, mention how upset I was after Fleur broke up with me... Don’t blame her or anything, as I get the feeling he’s kind of protective, but—’

      ‘I really don’t think that would be a good idea,’ Mari, horrified by what she was hearing, interrupted.

      ‘Don’t look like that. I’m not asking you to ask him straight out for money—you can be more subtle than that. You know, play up the sob story, flutter your eyelashes, do the weak girlie thing.’

      Mari got to her feet; she was feeling sick. ‘I couldn’t do that.’

      ‘You’d prefer that I end up in a wheelchair for life!’

      ‘That doesn’t have to happen, Mark. You know that the doctors have said with hard work and determination... I know it’s a long haul, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

      ‘Why does it always have to be hard work? I know you’re proud to be poor and everything, but I’m not. Why shouldn’t I have it easy for once in my life? I have never asked you for anything in my life, Mari...’ He saw her expression and stopped. ‘All right, maybe a couple of times.’

      Mari picked up the brochure. ‘I’ll see if I can work something out, but I’m not begging for money from Sebastian Defoe.’

      ‘You’re too proud to beg?’

      ‘It’s not about pride, Mark.’

      ‘Yes, it is!’ he flared back bitterly. ‘You’ve always been the same. You can’t ask for help. You always have to do things the hard way. Well, it’s easy for you to have pride—you can walk out of here.’

      Her brother held her eyes for ten silent reproachful seconds before he turned his face to the wall.

      ‘Mark, I’m sorry.’

      Almost in tears, Mari left five minutes later, Mark still refusing point-blank to speak to her. He hadn’t given her the silent treatment since they were children, and then sometimes he had kept it up for days.

      * * *

      As she walked along the hospital corridors Mari struggled to think past the awful sense of helplessness. She couldn’t get the image of the silent reproach in her brother’s eyes out of her head and it left her with a sick sense of helplessness that was crushing.

      The doctor had caught Mari before she left the ward. She had really struggled to respond positively when he’d pronounced himself cautiously optimistic about her brother’s prognosis; he’d gone on to emphasise how important a positive mental attitude was in these cases and how easy it was for patients to become depressed.

      Outside she took several deep gulps of fresh air. Mark was right: she could go home but he couldn’t.

      As much as she loved her twin she was perfectly aware that his impatience meant he always went for the quick fix. Their foster parents used to tell him there was no magic pill that cut out the hard work, but now he was convinced there was a magic pill. A carrot had been dangled and he couldn’t have it, but while he knew it was there he’d never settle for hard slog.

      Lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed the drizzle that had begun to fall