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a little extreme, to send someone over to talk to Piers, until I remember that this is America and Piers’ operation probably cost tens of thousands of dollars, not to mention his hospital stay and whatever else they charge for. God bless the NHS and, in this instance, private medical insurance.
    ‘Then I’ll take you through your recovery exercises,’ Brett says to Piers.
    I shoot him a look to see if he wants me to stay. My head is spinning from their sudden appearance, and I suspect Piers might be reeling, too.
    ‘Maybe you could make that phone call and pick up some pyjamas and toiletries for me,’ he suggests.
    OK, not reeling then.
    ‘Sure,’ I agree, though I’m reluctant to call the hospital. I trust Doctor Teddy. If he says Piers needs six-to-ten weeks to recover, then I bet he’s right. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ I promise, reluctant to leave him because I feel like I’ve only just got here.
    Pecking a kiss on Piers’ cheek, I grab my bag. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I call to Bryce and Brett as I leave, but they are already focusing all of their attention on Piers.
    I leave the hospital and make my way back towards the hotel. The walk back seems much quicker than my walk this morning.
    During my call to Giles, I snippily ask him to call the consultant in London since he clearly knows everything. I’m not sure how I feel about Piers telling his brother about his illness, but not telling me.
    Next I decide to tackle the Tabitha problem. Picking up the suite’s landline, I dial her number. Hopefully this way she’ll answer because it won’t be my mobile number flashing up on her screen.
    ‘Lottie, is that you?’ Tabitha demands. She sounds frantic.
    A-ha! It did work calling from a New York number, though I feel bad as she was obviously expecting her cousin. I wonder why she’s in New York.
    ‘It’s Arielle. Please don’t hang up,’ I say. ‘I promise I’ve never spoken to any journalist about you, and I’m not sure why you think I have.’
    Nothing.
    ‘Hello?’ I ask. ‘Are you still there?’
    There’s an awkward pause, then Tabitha clears her throat. ‘I... it’s... I’m sorry for accusing you,’ she says finally.
    ‘I didn’t tell anyone you were in Cornwall, not even Piers,’ I continue, when it becomes evident that Tabitha isn’t going to say anything else, ‘but I think I know why you might have thought that.’
    In a rush I explain my suspicions about Lydia looking through my phone.
    I’m gutted that she could even suspect me because Tabitha has been an amazing friend to me these past few months – if she wants nothing more to do with me, I will be heartbroken.
    ‘... I am so sorry though,’ I finish, ‘because leaving my phone out like that was as good as me selling you out. Can you ever forgive me?’
    There’s a pause, then Tabitha sighs softly. ‘Of course, Arielle. I found out this morning actually that Lydia was the source when the–’ She spits in anger. ‘– journalist called me for a follow-up quote. So much for protecting their sources, huh?’ She laughs hollowly. ‘I was going to call you, but when I read about Felicity in the papers, I thought I’d give you a few days. You must be devastated.’
    ‘Read what about Felicity?’ I ask stupidly.
    ‘You don’t know?’ she says slowly, her voice panicked. ‘Well, see... gosh... the thing is–’
    ‘I know Felicity died,’ I interrupt, ‘but it only happened yesterday. How is it in the papers already?’
    Tabitha considers this for a moment. ‘Good point. Not even Lydia’s story made the papers today. The latest scandal about me is only online because they missed the deadline for the morning edition, thank goodness. That’s really odd.’
    It is very odd. Why would Felicity’s death be in the papers? She died yesterday . She wasn’t famous, or anything like that, and I can’t see Etta getting out of the police station last night and managing to arrange an obituary in time to make