Page 50 of One More Day
Her words could easily make me cry, but hunger is my overriding sensation right now.
My mouth is watering. I can’t stop it. I try and guess what might be on Charlie’s menu this evening, but my stomach almost hurts at the thought. My tastebuds tingle.
But I just have to suck it up and take a good rest for now. The pain will eventually subside and then I’ll hobble downstairs and put a frozen pizza in the oven. Maybe with some oven chips, because I’m feeling sorry for myself. And lots of vinegar and ketchup.
My tummy growls out loud. The dog growls too.
‘We’ll get you some food very soon,’ I say to George, who has now made his way up onto the bed and seems to be enjoying the extra space as much as I am. ‘Tomorrow I’ll go to the butcher and get you a nice juicy bone – how does that sound? Even though you tried to put me over the handlebars earlier, I forgive you. Tomorrow we will dine in the finest manner, I promise. But for now, we will wait until Charlie is finished. He’s normally very fast, I can at least give him that.’
As my voice trails off, I close my eyes and try to distract my mind from the culinary delights from downstairs, but in less than fifteen minutes I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and I freeze on the spot.
I’m lying on top of the covers in only my underwear and with two bandaged knees on display as well as everything else Mother Nature gave to me. I have to say she was particularly generous in the boobs, hips and belly department, which may look good in the right light, but certainly aren’t for a stranger’s eyes at this moment.
Charlie might have forgotten something from the bedroom, but I doubt it – he is so meticulous, there’s no way he’d leave as much as a sock behind.
‘Rose?’
He knocks the door ever so gently and I pray he doesn’t walk in. Oh my word – I need to cover up and fast! He wouldn’t walk in, would he? No, he wouldn’t.
‘I’m not decent,’ I whimper, with one eye closed as if that’s going to make a difference to what he sees if he does dare to enter. ‘Please don’t come in.’
I hear him laugh a little.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, thank you, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘A wounded ego and two sore knees but I’ll be all right. Thank you again for looking after me so well. It was very kind of you.’
My words are met with silence, and I wonder is he still there.
What is hedoing?
‘Charlie?’
I take the far end of the duvet and gently wrap it over the top of me, nudging George quickly out of my way to cover myself up, just in case.
‘Listen, Rose, I know this is breaking all my own rules, but …’
I wait again. What is he up to?
‘I’m … I’m not sure if you’ve eaten yet this evening, and if you have I won’t be offended. But in case you’re hungry I’ve left you some pasta here on a tray by the door,’ he says eventually. ‘Don’t eat it if you don’t want it. No pressure.’
Oh my …
‘Food? For me?’
More silence.
‘Yes, Rose, food for you.’
My eyes prick with tears again.
‘It’s nothing fancy,’ he says, and I can imagine him pushing back his hair as he speaks. ‘It’s a lemon pasta with parmesan and some parsley I found in the herb garden beside the shed. Oh, and I seasoned it with some black pepper, which I hope you don’t mind. It’s simple, but tasty. And I brought up George’s food bowl too as I know he’ll want to stay near you.’
Simple, but tasty. And he brought food for George too?
I could honestly cry. In fact, I do cry. Hot tears spring to my eyes and roll down my cheeks onto my pillow.
I swallow hard. I try to speak but I can’t. I’m in so much pain and I’m so hungry, yet I can’t even get the words out to thank him.
