I flicked through the address book by the telephone, searching for Hillary's cell phone number. I didn't realise I was shaking until I found the entry and tried to mark it with my finger. Whether it was tiredness, nerves or a combination of both, I didn't know, but I hoped that my voice would be less tell-tale. I dialled the number and held my breath, listening to it ringing.
"What now, Bryce?"
It was Hillary, sounding mildly annoyed, and I smiled to myself wondering just what Bryce had been getting up to that had merited him phoning the butler on what seemed to have been several occasions. As quickly as my mirth arrived, it subsided, and I forced myself to speak, uncharacteristically unsure of my actions.
"It's Lara, Hilly."
There was silence and then,
"Lara?"
"Yes, Hillary, it's me. I'm just phoning to tell you," I faltered; "To tell you that I'm home again, and that – I'm ok." I wasn't sure if that last comment was what I wanted to say – did I sound ungrateful? Would he think that after the way I had treated him, I could still expect him to be worried about me? It was all I could manage, and I hoped that Hillary would, as usual, read between the lines and hear the words I really wanted to say. He did.
"Oh Lara, I'm so glad you're alright! Where have you been? What happened?" Relief was evident in his voice, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.
"I went to Paris. I – saved the world again." The tone in my voice marked the latter part of the sentence as humour in place of a lack of any real words to say. Then I added, "I feel better now."
There was another sigh.
"I'll come back first thing tomorrow."
"Oh no, don't hurry yourself – Bryce said your mother was ill. There's no need-" I was cut off by a huff and a scolding, as Hillary insisted that his mother was much better now, and he'd only been staying in the first place because Bryce had seemed quite content to live in his own mess rather than have it cleaned up after him.
"Now that you're back, I should return as well."
I acquiesced, said my goodbyes, and then withdrew.
"What now, Bryce?"
It was Hillary, sounding mildly annoyed, and I smiled to myself wondering just what Bryce had been getting up to that had merited him phoning the butler on what seemed to have been several occasions. As quickly as my mirth arrived, it subsided, and I forced myself to speak, uncharacteristically unsure of my actions.
"It's Lara, Hilly."
There was silence and then,
"Lara?"
"Yes, Hillary, it's me. I'm just phoning to tell you," I faltered; "To tell you that I'm home again, and that – I'm ok." I wasn't sure if that last comment was what I wanted to say – did I sound ungrateful? Would he think that after the way I had treated him, I could still expect him to be worried about me? It was all I could manage, and I hoped that Hillary would, as usual, read between the lines and hear the words I really wanted to say. He did.
"Oh Lara, I'm so glad you're alright! Where have you been? What happened?" Relief was evident in his voice, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.
"I went to Paris. I – saved the world again." The tone in my voice marked the latter part of the sentence as humour in place of a lack of any real words to say. Then I added, "I feel better now."
There was another sigh.
"I'll come back first thing tomorrow."
"Oh no, don't hurry yourself – Bryce said your mother was ill. There's no need-" I was cut off by a huff and a scolding, as Hillary insisted that his mother was much better now, and he'd only been staying in the first place because Bryce had seemed quite content to live in his own mess rather than have it cleaned up after him.
"Now that you're back, I should return as well."
I acquiesced, said my goodbyes, and then withdrew.