Page 115 of Wife After Wife
•••
Ana had visited the next day, by herself. She didn’t want Eliza to see him like this, she said.
It was brief, and awkward, and she didn’t touch him other than to peck him on the cheek. After an initial “How are you feeling?” she didn’t probe further into whether he was in pain or worried about his recovery. She didn’t even ask any of the normal silence-filler hospital questions about the food or whether he had enough to read.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sad about the baby.” His voice caught, and he held out his hand.
She ignored it, looking at him steadily for a moment before her eyes slid away to stare out of the window. “So am I, Harry. So am I.”
“We can try again.”
“I can’t think about that. All I can think about is the life that never was.”
“I understand. You’ll need time.”
“I don’t want you seeing Andre outside of work,” she said abruptly.
“What? Why not? The accident wasn’t his fault.”
“You act like a fool around him, Harry. And he’s a bad person—you know he is. I know you need his money, but tell me, how much is that money worth? Your unborn child? Your family? You need to off-load him, get him out of your life.”
“The race wasn’t his idea.”
“Then whose was it?” Her dark eyes bored into his.
“We just said last one to the pub should buy a round.”
“Then Charles is an idiot too. And he’s, what? Forty-five? And drinking and driving too? For Chrissake, Harry.”
“I only had two beers at the match. That’s the honest truth.”
She sighed, the fight leaving her. “Whatever, Harry. It doesn’t matter now.”
•••
There was a tap on the door, and Janette’s head appeared around it. “Is it OK if I come in? I didn’t know whether I should visit.”
Harry’s spirits lifted as she tiptoed in—a nonjudgmental friend. She was clutching grapes and a copy of Ian McEwan’sAtonement.
“Come in, sweetheart, and try not to look too closely at this.” He waved a hand toward the leg.
She talked about things at the office, and what was happening in the news, and her voice had such a soothing effect on him that he fell asleep, jerking awake later to find her sitting quietly, reading a magazine.
“Sorry, it’s the drugs making me sleepy. You don’t have to stay...”
“Do you want me to go? I’m sorry—”
“No. It’s been lovely seeing you. Would you come again? And, Janette, I’d like you to move back to my office while I’m out of action. Take calls, answer emails, tell people what’s going on with me.”
“Of course, Harry. Nothing would make me happier. Oh, apart from you getting better really quickly, of course!”
“It’s going to take a while. I’m not sure when they’ll let me go home. Perhaps you could come in weekdays, at a time of day when... other visitors aren’t here. You can bring in the paperwork, take a bit of dictation?”
“That sounds like a great plan.”
And so it became his routine. Janette visited every afternoon, and it was the only bright spot in his day—that and his painkiller top-ups.
Andre came in a few times, filling the private room with his colossal presence. He talked football, mostly, but Harry couldn’t work up any enthusiasm.
