Page 36 of Love, Accidentally

Thankfully, Sarah joins in with my laughter. ‘Get over yourself, Mike. If I had a pound for every woman at the hospital who warned me off you, I’d be a wealthy woman.’

‘Really? Why did you go out with me then?’

She softens. ‘Because I was curious, to begin with at least. I wanted to know what the fuss was about. And then… And then I discovered I liked you. You’re OK, once you let people in.’

‘Gee, thanks, I guess,’ he harrumphs, but he’s swiftly disarmed when she leans forward to give him a kiss.

This display of affection is enough to bring me up short. Their guilt-free love is too much for me to deal with all of a sudden.

‘I think I’m going to go to bed,’ I tell them.

‘Are you OK?’ Sarah asks.

‘Honestly? No. But I’ll find a way through it. I don’t really have a choice, do I?’

Mike comes over and wraps me in a hug. ‘You’ll be OK, you know,’ he says into my hair. ‘Luke’s a class-A dickhead who deserves everything he’s got coming to him, but none of this is your fault.’

‘The rational part of me knows that,’ I tell him, pulling back so I can look into his face. ‘It doesn’t stop me feeling responsible though. I keep thinking about poor Cindy and how she must be feeling. Is she trying to put a brave face on it and play happy families, or is she putting ground glass in his food? Whichever it is, you can assume she must absolutely hate my guts, and that’s the hardest part.’ A tear starts to run down my cheek. ‘I kind of hate my guts right now.’

‘Shh,’ he soothes. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. Hold on to that. You wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the two-timing bastard if you’d known what he was like.’

‘Thanks, Mike,’ I tell him as I gently pull away.

‘He’s right, you know,’ Sarah adds. ‘You’re the innocent party here just as much as Cindy is.’

‘Yeah, well. I think I’m going to head to bed anyway. I’ve had enough of today,’ I tell them as I turn towards my bedroom door. ‘Thanks, for everything.’

I can feel their concerned eyes boring into my back as I go into my room but, having talked it out with Tash and now them, I feel there’s nothing really left to say. I’m wrung out and dog-tired as I climb under the covers, but my dreams are full of recrimination. In one, Richenda is blaming me for leading her precious son astray while Cindy looks on, her eyes burning red with hatred. In another, Luke is trying to sweet-talk me into bed, only the bed is in the maternity unit of the hospital and Cindy is already on it, pushing out the largest baby I think I’ve ever seen. The weirdest ones of all, though, are the ones in between them. Of all the people to be featuring in my dreams tonight, I wasn’t expecting Jonathan Barwell and Will, but I’m glad they’re here. In amongst all the madness of my head, they’re providing welcome doses of calm. I may not be able to make head nor tail of the crossword clues that Jonathan is calling out, but Will is telling me it’s OK, that he’s got everything under control and I don’t need to worry. I know he’s talking about the situation with his father rather than me, but I find it reassuring nonetheless.

16

It’s Thursday afternoon and I still haven’t heard anything from Richenda about what Cindy plans to do or how I’m supposed to handle the rendezvous with Luke tomorrow if it goes ahead. I’m a complete jangle of nerves and I’ve never been so grateful for the pressure of work to keep my mind off things. After a certain amount of thought, I’ve concocted a story involving a nasty case of thrush that I can wheel out tomorrow in case Richenda doesn’t come through, but I’ve been phone watching all day. I’m now trying to distract myself by visiting Jonathan again; he’s made great progress and is on the verge of being allowed home, now that Will has organised to stay with him. The mental health team appear to have decided to accept his story that it was a one-off and that he doesn’t pose an ongoing risk to himself, but are nonetheless reassured that he won’t be alone. His liver also seems to have escaped the worst of the damage he could have inflicted on it, although it will be closely monitored with regular blood tests.

‘I know this is irregular, Tilly,’ he says to me when we’ve completed the latest crossword, ‘but I’d like to invite you to Sunday lunch with us sometime, as a way of saying thank you.’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ I assure him. ‘It was a team effort, anyway. I’m just glad to see you doing so well.’

‘It may have been a team effort to begin with, but I’ve come to really enjoy your visits. It’s the least I can do. Bring your husband, wife, thirteen children, rabid dogs, whatever. We don’t mind, do we, Will?’

‘The rabid dogs might be an issue,’ Will says with a smile, lifting his head from his sketch pad. ‘I think you’re supposed to report them, but the rest should be doable. Don’t let him bully you into coming, although he does cook a mean roast.’

‘The first thing my Geraldine taught me when she realised she was getting too weak to cook,’ Jonathan explains. ‘“A man needs a decent roast dinner inside him once a week,” she’d declared. And that was that. She started with the basic roasts, then puddings, before moving on to midweek dishes. By the time she really couldn’t manage the kitchen any more, I was quite proficient.’

‘Dad does a pretty good curry too,’ Will adds.

Jonathan’s eyes crinkle in amusement. ‘I had to teach myself that one. Will’s mother was never a fan of spicy food, but he and I like them, so I just used to do something plain for her on curry nights. Maybe we’ll resurrect them now you’re home for a bit.’

‘I’d like that,’ Will tells him.

Spending time with Jonathan and Will feels like an oasis of calm in the turmoil of my own life. Although neither of them could be described as chatty, the long silences are comfortable; two people totally at ease in each other’s company. I haven’t told them anything about Luke, obviously. I don’t know either of them well enough for that, and it would feel like dumping a truckload of manure on the nicely groomed lawn of their relationship. Will, as far as I can work out, arrives every day as soon as visiting hours begin and doesn’t leave until they end. Whenever I’ve dropped by, he’s had his nose either in his sketch pad or his laptop while Jonathan either works on the crossword or reads the paper. It wouldn’t surprise me if hours sometimes pass without either of them speaking. I assume Will is working when he’s on the laptop, but I don’t know what he does. Although I won’t take Jonathan up on his lunch invitation, I can practically feel myself unwinding as I imagine him bringing out a perfectly cooked joint, with crispy roast potatoes and steaming vegetables. In fact, I may have just involuntarily sighed with pleasure, as I notice Will giving me an odd look.

‘Everything all right there?’ he asks quizzically.

‘Yes. It’s just been a busy week,’ I tell him.

‘Here’s one you should be able to get, Tilly,’ Jonathan announces, but he’s interrupted by my phone. I’m instantly on high alert, especially when I see the caller ID.

‘Tilly, it’s Richenda,’ she informs me unnecessarily as I slip out of the room into the corridor. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long but, well, it’s probably best if I let Cindy explain when you meet her.’

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