You've Got My Number: Warm your heart this winter with this uplifting and deliciously romantic story!

by Angela Barton

  ‘It sounds so logical when you explain it. And I hadn’t looked at it from the point of view that three tragedies have already happened.’

  ‘Will you give your doctor a call?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. I can’t believe that I didn’t realise that three people had already had accidents. It sort of makes my counting – irrelevant.’

  ‘Phobias and obsessions don’t always make sense, but there’s always a reason for it.’

  Daniel lifted his hand and gently moved a stray wisp of hair away from Tess’s face. He then stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘You’re incredible,’ he whispered.

  Tess’s fingers tingled and her heart raced. She could see his eyelashes blinking over his pained moss-green eyes. He was looking directly at her. They were still holding hands, a current of electricity passing between them. Could he see her body shaking from his touch? His lips opened slightly and he leaned slowly towards her. Her body moved towards his, their faces inches apart. Tess could feel his warm breath on her face. She knew without any shadow of doubt, that if she let him, he would kiss her in the next second. She wanted him to, but like a drowning man letting go of his only life support, she moved backwards and raised their hands to come between their chests as a barrier.

  Daniel continued to look at Tess, but a deep sadness fell over his eyes and his shoulders fell. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried… I know you’re with Blake. Forgive me?’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to forgive. I wish things were different, but Blake needs me at the moment. I was going to end things between us a few months ago. But he got sick.’

  ‘I understand, but like you told me, nothing you do now will change his destiny.’

  ‘It’s just that he has no one else. He hasn’t many friends and his mother isn’t much help.’

  ‘Like I said, you’re incredible.’

  By mentioning Blake’s name, the spell had been broken. Reality hit home like a thump in the stomach. This was just a magical day that she would relive for months to come, perhaps years. She couldn’t live with herself if she left Blake in order to follow her own selfish longings. She couldn’t be that cruel and not suffer the consequences. It seemed that she and Daniel shared something in common. Guilt.

  Tess spoke quietly as she looked at her watch and then at Daniel. ‘I ought to be making a move now, it’ll soon be half three.’

  He didn’t answer but stood up pulling her to her feet. He stuck out his elbow for her to link arms, which she did. They strolled in silence back towards The Rookery. After a few minutes Daniel spoke.

  ‘Thank you for listening and understanding. You’ve really helped.’

  Tess squeezed his arm in reply. They walked back through the patio doors retracing their steps. At the front door they stopped and faced each other once more.

  ‘Please don’t think I’m crazy.’

  Tess smiled and held up a forefinger. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Okay, okay, enough of the crazy talk.’

  ‘I’ve an idea that might help.’

  ‘What idea?’

  ‘I’ll phone you. Thank you for lunch and a wonderful day.’

  ‘I’ve really enjoyed it.’ Daniel opened the front door.

  ‘I’ll phone.’ She smiled and waved, before turning and heading back down the gravel drive. As she walked, she wondered if Daniel was checking the door three times.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Denise silently counted the lights on the ceiling as the trolley she was lying on was pushed down a hospital corridor. She shivered in her lightweight gown under a thin sheet. It wasn’t the cold that was making her shiver. It was anxiety. The hospital was warm with a pungent smell of antiseptic and cooked dinners lurking in the corridors. It wasn’t a good mixture when you were feeling sick and anxious. Simon was holding her hand as she was bumped down the corridor.

  ‘Hang on tight. I don’t want to lose you,’ the hospital porter joked. He slammed the trolley through a double set of plastic doors.

  Denise screwed her eyes tightly and braced herself. The doors opened easily and the trolley passed through smoothly. They turned a corner and waited at a large lift. A sign above it read Operating Theatres Only. She looked up at Simon who smiled back at her and squeezed her hand tighter. She noticed his hair. It was sticking up where he had obviously raked his hands through it.

  ‘It’s taking its time today, must be on a go slow like the French.’ The porter laughed.

  Denise heard Simon grunt in response.

  ‘Weather’s turned, hasn’t it?’ continued the man. ‘Soon be Christmas, you’ll see. No sooner is October here than Christmas is round the corner. Have you got kids?’

  ‘Two boys.’

  The lift stopped at their floor. After a few seconds the doors opened and Denise was rattled inside. The doors closed and all that she could see were the chrome walls and handrail. Soon she was pulled out backwards and wheeled down another white featureless corridor. The porter stopped at a thick red line that had been painted on the floor. She read another sign. Patients Only Beyond This Point.

  ‘I can’t go any further, darling,’ Simon whispered. ‘I’ll be by your side when you wake up. Everything will be all right. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and Simon kissed it away.

  From the other side of the painted line, two nurses came out of a plastic double door.

  ‘Mrs Harby?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lovely. Can I just check a few details?’

  The nurse asked her full name and date of birth and then checked her hospital wristband.

  ‘Are you hubby?’ asked one of the nurses, looking at Simon.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll take good care of her. You go and have a cuppa and we’ll buzz the ward when your wife is back out of theatre.’

  Inside the anaesthetic room, Denise was slightly raised into a half sitting position. It was a small room full of shelves and boxes. A man walked through a set of swing doors in front of her towards her trolley. Before the door swung closed behind him, she could see the operating lights and table in the room beyond.

  ‘Hello, my name’s Rupert Goldsmith. I’m your anaesthetist today. Have you had a general anaesthetic before?’

  ‘No, just two epidurals.’

  ‘I see. An epidural blocks the pain sensors, but as I’m sure you’re aware, you stay alert and awake. Today, we’re going to make you fall into a peaceful sleep and you’ll wake up and wonder if we’ve even started.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘A strange question, but do you have any false teeth, crowns or veneers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. In a minute I’m going to inject some fluid in here,’ he explained, pointing to a taped needle protruding from the back of her hand. ‘You’ll be asleep in no time. Just relax.’

  Denise took a deep breath. The anaesthetist flushed something cold into her arm. She could feel it sting as it was forced into her vein. The anaesthetist turned and picked up another syringe.

  ‘Okay, Denise, this is the one that will send you off to sleep. Count to ten and I bet you don’t get past lucky number seven.’

  Please let me wake up, she thought. One. Two. Three. I feel like I’ve drunk a few glasses of champagne. Four. Five. This is really quite pleasant. Six.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It had been a few days since Tess had spent the day at The Rookery with Daniel. During this time she had searched the internet looking for as much information as she could about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She’d made copious lists with snippets of information that might be useful, but all the time a nagging thought chipped away at her. She had willingly invested many hours researching ways to help Daniel, but before Blake had been diagnosed, she’d never once googled his symptoms. She was sitting at her kitchen table and foremost in her mind was the thought that if she’d cared more, maybe she might have detected Blake’s illness sooner
.

  Tess was relieved to read that Daniel’s compulsion was mild, which meant that it didn’t stop him from leading a normal life. It didn’t keep him housebound or afraid to go out at night, like some unfortunate sufferers she’d read about. Tess had discovered two main therapies that could help him overcome his compulsion. The first was behavioural therapy, where sufferers are gradually and repeatedly confronted with the situation that they fear the most. In Daniel’s case, this was fireworks and not repeating some action three times. The second therapy was cognitive therapy. Tess read that this was talking through and analysing why the sufferer feels such a compulsion to repeat things. She supposed that their conversation in the orchard had been a good start. Daniel knew that he counted to three on occasions because he felt it kept him and his loved ones safe. So he must be making headway already.

  Tess had also searched for Daniel’s friend, Sean Connors, on her computer. It had only taken twenty minutes of research to find something very interesting. Something that might just help Daniel that little bit more. She printed the article and then sent off an email.

  The following day, Daniel decided he would finally make an appointment with his doctor. Although his obsession with the number three was considerably better than it used to be several years earlier, he trusted Tess and wanted to show her that he was taking her advice seriously. He wanted to get better, not only for himself, but for her.

  He knew he was falling for Tess. Who wouldn’t, he thought, looking at his reflection in bathroom mirror? Beautiful, funny, thoughtful. He knew his feelings for her were growing each time they met and that he would probably end up getting hurt. But he felt relaxed and even a little mischievous when they were together. He was enjoying their friendship, even if it must remain platonic. He did regret one thing though. He spoke to himself in the mirror. ‘Idiot.’ He cringed at his insensitivity in trying to kiss Tess. He shut his eyes in embarrassment, unable to look at himself. He groaned aloud with humiliation when he remembered her lifting their hands as a barrier to his advance. Shaking his head, he turned his back on the mirror and went downstairs to find his jacket.

  Daniel found it on the kitchen pew just as he heard a knock on the front door. ‘Be good and no chewing the table legs,’ he said. Slipping his arms into his jacket sleeves, he crossed the hallway and unlocked the heavy oak front door.

  ‘Morning.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Tess. ‘Lovely day for a trip to the supermarket.’

  ‘I can think of a few places I’d rather we were going.’

  ‘C’mon.’ Tess turned and walked towards the Land Rover.

  Daniel looked over his shoulder in the hope that Tess wouldn’t see him checking the door. She had her back to him so he quickly ensured that the door was locked three times, before following her.

  It was Tess’s second day of annual leave and she’d come up with the idea of driving to a supermarket in order to put some therapy into practice. They pulled out of the drive and Tess tried to concentrate on the matter in hand. However, the excitement she felt by sitting next to him in his Land Rover, made her feel more like she was off on a wonderful holiday. She tried to keep her eyes on the passing country scenery, but occasionally they strayed to Daniel’s hands gripping the steering wheel or shamefully, his thighs.

  Daniel parked his Defender in the supermarket’s car park and climbed down. She heard him click the central locking three times before watching him squirm with embarrassment.

  ‘I feel such an idiot. Can we just buy some sticky pastries and head back home?’ he called over the bonnet.

  ‘Of course we can, but you have to give it a go first.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  They walked towards the main entrance. Tess asked, ‘What do you usually do now?’

  ‘What would I do now? Stand on my head and yodel. Seriously though, you’re making me sound like a total freak.’

  Tess linked arms with him and laughed. ‘We’ve been over this already. I don’t think you’re weird, crazy or mad. Now be good, or there’ll be no pastry for you. What would you usually do first?’

  Daniel squeezed her arm with his. ‘I like it when you’re strict.’

  ‘Are you taking this seriously, Daniel Cavanagh?’

  Daniel cleared his throat. ‘I’d pick this trolley because it’s from the third stacked line.’

  ‘Okay, you’ve got to choose another one today.’

  Daniel looked along the six lines of stacked trolleys and slowly let out a deep breath. He pushed a pound coin into the fourth line and a trolley clicked free. They walked through the main entrance in silence and through the automatic barriers into the fruit and vegetable area.

  ‘It doesn’t feel right,’ said Daniel, shaking his head.

  ‘What doesn’t?’

  ‘The trolley. I can’t explain it. It just feels wrong.’

  ‘We’ll be quick.’

  ‘It’s like having your shoes on the wrong feet. You have to stop and change them because it’s all you can think about.’

  ‘But what’s the worst that can happen? Continuing with your shoe analogy, it feels wrong but you can still walk. Put a few things in the trolley. We don’t have to be more than five minutes.’

  ‘Five minutes. I’m timing it.’ Daniel looked at his watch, breathed in and braced himself. ‘Danish pastries, this way.’ He rushed through the store as if he’d won a trolley dash and had a few minutes in which to collect what he wanted. He clipped a couple of other trolleys in his haste, but soon arrived at the cake section. Tess caught up.

  ‘What pastry do you want?’ he asked.

  Tess surveyed the display. ‘Apple and raisin, I think,’ she said, picking up the pastry with a pair of tongs and placing it into a bag. ‘How about you?’

  ‘A cinnamon whirl.’

  Daniel inhaled deeply and let out a long breath, as if he were blowing out a candle. ‘Let’s go now.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘If I’m honest, I’m feeling a bit anxious.’

  ‘What about?’ asked Tess.

  ‘This bloody trolley.’ He tried to laugh but it sounded more like a groan. ‘I can’t explain except to say that it feels wrong.’

  ‘I know it feels like this isn’t working, but you’ve successfully chosen some food in a trolley that wasn’t the third in line. How long is it since you’ve done that?’

  ‘Years.’

  ‘Do you think we could pick up a bottle of wine before we go to the checkout?’

  He set off once again at speed.

  They continued to meet each other throughout October. They used the excuse that their get-togethers were a sort of therapy. Tess had said it would be a good idea to try some cognitive therapy, in other words, to have a chat about why he had his hang ups. Their conversation always went off at tangents that had nothing to do with his obsession at all: updates on Den and Blake’s health, art, travel and dreams of owning a cake shop. All they knew was that when they were in each other’s company, they felt that their problems were lost in a fog of delicious amnesia.

  Tess worked most Saturdays at The Blue Olive, so she could easily meet Daniel on her day off in the week, without Blake knowing. It wasn’t that she was being deliberately deceitful with her secrecy. It was just that Blake would overreact to an innocent situation. He’d already grown grumpier as his court date loomed closer. She had set the boundaries of her friendship with Daniel and although her fantasies about him were very different, their friendship was platonic.

  Tess was standing by The Rookery’s front door saying goodbye to Daniel after their latest chat, when she asked him something.

  ‘What are you doing on Saturday evening?’

  ‘Don’t know. Probably painting or watching a repeat of Top Gear. Why?’

  ‘Now listen before you answer. Bear with me.’

  Daniel closed his eyes. ‘Wait a minute. Let me just hold that image.’

  ‘Behave.’ She playfully punched his biceps. ‘You know how you haven’t
been to a bonfire party since Sean’s accident? Do you think you could go to The Royal Oak’s with me?’

  ‘Bloody hell, Tess. One second you’re putting naked images into my head and the next you’re describing hell.’

  ‘Could you just think about it?’

  ‘What about Blake? Won’t he want to go with you?’

  ‘He’ll be in Amsterdam for a few days. Give it some thought. I’ll call you on Friday. Bye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Back at home, Tess clicked the kettle on and checked her emails. She felt a jolt of excitement when she saw that Sean had replied to an email she’d sent him.

  From: Sean Connors

  Subject: Dan’s exhibition

  To: Tess Fenton

  Hi Tess

  What a thrill to receive your email. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to reply, but I’ve been in Australia. Thank you for getting in touch and informing me of Dan’s exhibition. I regret not keeping in touch, but we were young and wrapped up in ourselves as teenagers. It was so good to hear about Dan’s work and know that he still lives at The Rookery.

  I was shocked to hear about Robert and Helen. No, I didn’t know about their accident and wish I could have been there for Dan and Den. It must have been an incredibly difficult time for them both. Their parents were lovely people.

  I know you asked if I could send him a good luck message but I think I can do better than that. I’m attending a conference in London on creating art using inorganic compounds in late November – sounds grand but it’s just ceramics! I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than come along to the exhibition and meet up again. We have a lot to talk about.

  Keep in touch with dates.

  Best wishes

  Sean

  Tess was delighted to have received a reply and overwhelmed that he would be able to attend Daniel’s exhibition and not just send a message to him. Perhaps she should introduce them the day before because it would come as quite a shock for Daniel and could take his mind off his artwork on the actual day. She hoped she’d done the right thing.