by Lucy Coleman
Probably no more than an hour later my phone rings and I pick it up without checking the caller ID, surprised when I don’t instantly recognise the voice.
‘Brie?’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Auntie Olive. Oh, my darling, I’m afraid I have some bad news and there’s no easy way to say this without worrying you. Your mum asked me to call. We’re at the hospital. George has had a heart attack. She said to tell you he’s responding to the drugs they’ve given him, but they want to get your dad into surgery as quickly as they can.’
I’m in total shock. Dad? Surgery?
‘I… Oh God! Have you seen him, Auntie Olive?’
‘No, Brie. Your mum was able to spend a little time with him just now, but we’d been here for over three hours waiting for news. Wendy is understandably very upset and in shock. I made Uncle Henry take her off for a cup of tea. We don’t really know too much at the moment, I will admit, as I don’t think she’s taking any of this in. When she’s a little calmer I thought we’d ask the doctor to go over what’s happening, as when she came back out after seeing him, she was in a daze. I’m so sorry, my darling. It’s a horrible thing to have happened and you are so far away.’
My head is spinning, and I feel faint.
‘I’m coming home. Tell Mum I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ The words are little more than a croak and I end the call, barely aware of what I’m doing.
I need to get home. That’s all I can focus on, but I can’t seem to think about what I need to do next. I hit the list of recent calls and stab my finger at the first one on the list. The next voice I hear is Carrie’s again. But now the tears have come, and I blurt out the words whilst in full flow.
‘Carrie, I need to get home. Dad’s had a heart attack and is going into surgery. I’ll pack my things; can you find me a flight? I… everything is just… I don’t know what—’
‘Oh, Brie! That’s awful! Listen, just focus on getting your things packed. I’ll sort something out and text you the details. Does Arran know?’
‘No. He’s taking a session. Oh, Carrie – what if something terrible happens and I’m not there?’ Just the thought of that turns the gentle tears into full on sobs.
‘Listen, concentrate on getting ready to leave. I’ll jump online and see how we can get you home. Once you’re on the plane I’ll head to Heathrow and we’ll get you to the hospital as quickly as possible. Be strong, Brie, and try to hold it together. The doctors know what they’re doing, and your mum will ensure your dad is in good hands.’
Everything happens so quickly, and it’s hard to take it all in because the thought of losing my dad is so overwhelming. Elisabetta calls me a taxi and I write a quick note to Arran, leaving it with her. The session is in full flow and I don’t know what else to do.
When I arrive at the airport I’m already feeling overwhelmed, but following Carrie’s instructions, I head for the Alitalia sign. The woman at the airline bookings desk recognises my name and is expecting me. She explains that I have a confirmed same-day change ticket, which means I’m guaranteed a flight today but at the moment I don’t have a reserved seat on a particular flight. I say a silent thank you to Carrie. I’m instructed to take a seat and now it’s a waiting game.
*
I’ve been sitting here, adjacent to the ticket desk, for just over an hour and a half so far. At least I feel a little more in control of myself now. I try my best to remain calm while I wait and the customer services advisor at the desk has promised I will get the first available seat. The next flight out is in less than an hour but it’s too early to tell if there are going to be any no shows or cancellations. I couldn’t believe it when she explained that people don’t always give them advance warning, even if they have no intention at all of showing up. I suppose it depends on their situation. If, like mine, it’s due to a family emergency who cares about the cost of a ticket?
I sit back, resting my head against the wall behind me, trying not to think about what’s going on at the hospital. Out of the corner of my eye I see a blur as someone comes hurrying along to the desk. As I turn my head, momentarily distracted, I’m shocked to see it’s Arran. He rushes up to me and I stand. He wraps his arms around me, cradling my body against his chest and hugging me as if he has no intention of ever letting me go.
‘I came as soon as Elisabetta passed me your note. Is there any news?’
He leans back a little and our eyes lock. I shake my head. ‘Nothing. But I doubt Auntie Olive knows how to text and Mum won’t be in a fit state to talk to me. I can only assume that no news is good news. Oh, Arran, I can’t bear this, not knowing what’s going on.’
Arran leans his head up against mine and I’m touched to see how much he’s affected by this on my behalf.
‘Is there any chance you can get on the next flight?’
‘I have to wait until my name is called. There are only two of us waiting and the other lady simply missed her original flight because of a traffic accident on the road. She arrived here ahead of me but has kindly asked them to give the next available seat to me.’
He doesn’t loosen his grip and we stand for several minutes taking in the enormity of what’s happening.
‘I want to come with you,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘You shouldn’t have to go through this on your own.’
It’s heart-breaking because I know he means what he says. ‘There’s nothing at all you can do, Arran, and now it’s going to be tough on you, too. Oh, why did this have to happen? What if my Dad isn’t going to be okay?’
He tips his head back and stares into my eyes as they begin to fill with tears.
‘You can’t think that way, Brie. Stay positive, do you hear me?’
We’re oblivious to what’s going on around us and suddenly someone touches my arm.
‘Sorry to interrupt but we have a seat for you. Come this way.’
My knees almost buckle from under me and Arran swiftly moves an arm around to circle my waist. As my legs take my weight once more, we follow the woman across to the check in desk. I drag out my credit card and passport, while Arran fetches across my two suitcases.
Arran and I glance at each other, unable to believe what’s happening. There’s hardly time for a goodbye and we simply hug each other for a few seconds, exchanging a quick kiss. And then I head off in the direction of the security checkpoint to begin the next leg of my journey back home.
I knew saying goodbye to Arran was going to be hard, but I never, ever envisioned it being like this. I’m going home, and I have no idea what I’m going to find when I get there. My world has suddenly been turned upside down, without warning. I feel heartbroken and alone.
*
Dad had heart bypass surgery three weeks ago. A part of one of the blood vessels in his left leg was grafted onto the coronary artery above and below two sections that had become blocked. He was only in hospital for a week but had post-op problems with an irregular heartbeat. Finally, things seem to have settled down but both Mum and Dad were exhausted, given the strain they’d been under.
I spent the first week ferrying Mum around and making sure she at least ate a little something in between hospital visits. I’d never seen her look so lost, or so frightened and I know she was fearful we were going to lose him. It didn’t matter what the doctor said, she was living from minute to minute. The day he was discharged she said it was too soon and I could see how scared she was to be home alone with him. So, I slept over there for five nights and on the sixth day she hugged me, then made me go back to my cottage.
I’ve been here now for eight days, sinking myself into work and constantly checking my phone for text updates from Mum. I pop over late afternoon every day and we sit over a cup of tea for an hour or so. Often one of their friends, neighbours or a family member will join us, and it helps. You run out of things to say and Dad gets a little cross if you ask him more than once a day how he’s feeling.
‘I’m not a bloody invalid. I’m getting over an opera
tion, that’s all.’ Mum and I had exchanged a grimace the day he’d had his little meltdown. The last thing we wanted to do was to upset him because he’s a proud man. He hated the fuss and the fact that I’d had to come back from Italy early.
It’s been hard getting my head around work and trying to blot everything else out. But I’ve had no choice because if I’m not actively doing something then my mind simply churns. I haven’t resorted to comfort eating though, and at times of peak stress I now stop what I’m doing and go for a walk. Even in the rain I find it revitalising and it clears my mind. The phone rings and I see it’s Mel, checking in.
‘How is everything today?’ She has been an angel. In those difficult early days, she fussed over me as I was fussing over Mum.
Ross, too, has been great and I can’t wait to meet him in person. When I eventually arrived back at the cottage they’d worked as a team to get everything ready for me. Mel got the cleaners in to spruce everything up and the two of them tidied the garden. I expected to feel glad to be home again, knowing Dad was on the mend and that the tension was lifting for Mum. But I felt hollow inside.
I realise I haven’t replied to Mel’s question, my mind going off at a tangent. ‘Sorry, brain ache today from all the words I wrote yesterday. I’m on the home stretch with the manuscript now and usually this is the fun part. Everything suddenly comes together, well, I hope it does, but I’m not getting the glow of satisfaction I normally get.’
Mel tuts. ‘After what you’ve been through that’s hardly surprising, but you’re nearly there. I bet Carrie is pleased. How’s the other story going?’
It’s the other story that is keeping me going, but I can’t say that. Well, that and Arran’s daily phone calls. You see, the love story I’m writing suddenly turned into our story. But now I’m stuck because I have no idea how it’s going to end. Only time will tell, so it’s sitting in a folder, waiting. Waiting. Just like me.
‘Good. I’m rushing to do this final read through, so I can get this off to Carrie, even though I’m way ahead of the new deadline. It will be nice to write the last part of Ethan and Izzie’s story with nothing else clouding my mind.’ And if it doesn’t work out then I will have to grit my teeth and give it the fairy tale ending of my dreams. But it would break my heart to have to settle for that.
Real life has even seeped into my other story. The sexual tension between Bella Hart and Jed Jackman became an extension of my physical longing for Arran. As Bella’s anxious pleas for him to give up fighting after suffering a serious concussion were brushed off, it marred the passion between them. The story seemed to be mirroring my life. As distant as I was beginning to feel from Arran, so Bella began to feel the same way with Jed. But when it comes to fiction anything is possible and everything came together again in the end. Carrie and my readers will be expecting that heart-rending, happy ever after, and I wanted it, too.
Somehow, I need to keep believing that true love can survive anything, and this is one hopeless romantic who has suddenly woken up. If the man of your dreams is hot and sexy and intellectual, then who cares about the sentimental stuff? I thought I wanted a man who arrived at my door with his arms full of flowers and violins playing in the background. Well, that was the fantasy for so many years. As it turns out that isn’t necessary. All I want is to have Arran standing on my doorstep with a suitcase in his hand. It’s not that I’m settling, it’s simply that he has captured my heart and sex sells books for a good reason.
‘I’m pleased for you, Brie. It hasn’t been an easy time, but you kept going. When does Arran arrive?’
I glance up at the calendar pinned on the wall above my desk with the days ticked off in red pen.
‘A little over twenty-three hours. Not that I’m counting.’
‘Oh, less than a day, then,’ she replies, laughing at me.
‘The last group flew back home at the weekend. He sounds tired, but he says little. I can’t even begin to imagine how he coped because he avoided talking about it. During his calls he simply wanted to support me, and I admit that without the two of you I think I might have gone to pieces.’
It’s the truth and both Mel and I know that.
‘Are you planning a romantic dinner for two when he arrives?’
I spend a long time each night lying in bed in the dark trying to imagine what it will be like when Arran and I meet up again. On the phone it’s been easy, but then he’s simply asked me questions to get me talking. I’ve shared every little detail of what’s been happening with Dad and it helped, it really did. But there was no sense of us in the phone calls, other than just before we hung up. Exchanging a fleeting ‘I miss you’ followed by well meaning words of encouragement, felt detached and unreal.
‘Yes. A quiet dinner here.’ I won’t know if it’s going to be alright until I’m in his arms again. Will the passion between us have cooled? The mere thought sends an icy chill through me.
‘Once you’ve caught up it will be fine, Brie. I know you are worried that things will be different between you. But you are still both the same people.’
‘Yes, but he’s coming over for work, not simply to see me.’ Doubt begins to gnaw away inside me, once more. I’ve spent most of the day trying to push it away but it’s like having a shadow that never disappears.
‘I know but you originally said he wasn’t flying over until the middle of the month, so that tells you something, doesn’t it?’
It tells me he has something to say that he feels he can’t deliver over the phone. Arran is first and foremost a gentleman. I dismiss my anxiety, making an effort to smile, and give a lift to my voice.
‘I’m sure it will all be fine. When I know what’s happening I’ll give you a call and we’ll all go out for a meal.’
There’s a slight pause.
‘Brie, you won’t push him away, will you? If you’d been in Italy for the entire four weeks you would have come back on a high. It’s understandable that you are on a low but it’s no one’s fault. Just don’t let that negativity rub off onto what happened between you both. You didn’t choose to part ways, it was forced upon you. Remember that.’
26
Making the Best of a Bad Situation
When the doorbell finally rings my heart begins to thud. I’ve been too nervous to even look out of the window, knowing that Arran could arrive at any moment. I’m anxious about how I’m going to feel when I look into his eyes for the first time. It’s the fear of losing something I’m not even sure I had. What if… my hand is on the door as the shrill sound of the bell rings for the second time. I compose myself, plastering on a pleasant smile as I swing it open.
We stand looking at each other for several moments. It feels strange. Arran here, standing on my doorstep and about to step into the reality of my world. This is where he gets an insight into the real me, as I’ve had an insight into his world. Arran’s world is cosmopolitan, glamorous even, in a way. Here, my life isn’t like that at all. I spend most of my time alone, writing, and could count on two hands the number of times each year I rub shoulders with sophisticated people.
I step back, and he hesitates. ‘My bags are in the car. Shall I get them now?’
I nod; my smile has slipped and the awkwardness we are both feeling gives me that now all too familiar cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.
‘Tea or coffee?’ My voice wavers at the effort of trying to sound upbeat.
‘Coffee, please,’ he throws over his shoulder, before disappearing back up the path.
As I walk into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar, I want to kick myself. My hesitation stopped us greeting properly and he was thrown, unsure of what to do next. I have no idea if he intended to kiss me on the cheek, or catch me up in his arms, but I desperately need to know which.
As the water boils I clatter about with mugs and spoons for a minute or two before I realise he’s standing behind me.
‘Brie, put that down and turn around.’
I swivel, looking beyond him to s
ee his suitcases standing in the hallway and the door firmly shut. This is it. The moment of truth.
When I drag my eyes back to his face I can see it’s full of emotion. One step and we are in each other’s arms.
He begins by planting swift little kisses along the curve of my cheek, working his way with increasing impatience down to my mouth. It’s like we’ve never been apart, and the fire is still there between us, that longing that instantly disengages the brain. Nothing else matters because nothing else appears to exist.
Then Arran’s phone pings and a second later, pings again. He groans as he pulls away, reluctantly yanking it out of his pocket. I take a deep breath, turning back to my original task but this time with my heart bouncing around crazily in my chest.
When I turn back around with a mug in each hand, his head is still bent over his phone and he’s texting. He glances up at me, apologetically.
‘Sorry, almost done.’
‘No problem. When you’re ready follow me out to the garden room.’
Seconds later he’s by my side and joins me, sinking down onto the ochre coloured couch.
‘This is some cottage you have here. I was expecting small rooms and floral curtains. And the thatched roof is a real surprise. This is the quintessentially British chocolate box cottage but with a contemporary twist. Did you do the renovation work?’
I nod. ‘Yes. I got it for a song because it was a wreck and employed a building company who took it from the architect’s plans to completion in only nine months.’
He’s studying my face intently, and the smile on his face is so broad it almost looks unreal.
‘Your smile is freaking me out,’ I state, laughing at him.
‘It’s just so good to be here with you.’