To the Moon and Back

by Jill Mansell

  ‘I know. Too cool, too much of a grown-up.’ Poor thing, Ellie did actually feel sorry for her; in years to come, Louisa would look back on this day and be appalled by her own loss of dignity.

  ‘And I’m sorry she said all that stuff to you. She’s really got it into her head that there’s some kind of thing going on between you and me.’ Zack’s gaze was fixed on her, his tone quizzical. ‘I don’t know where she got that from.’

  OK, was this an unspoken accusation? Was he implying that he hadn’t given Louisa the idea but someone certainly had, and could she by any chance have hinted at it herself? Mortified, Ellie said, ‘Well, it wasn’t me! Why would I do something like that? The only reason you hired me for this job in the first place was because you knew for a fact I wasn’t interested in you and that’s the truth, I swear on my life.’

  And she wasn’t lying; it was true. When she’d first come here, she hadn’t been interested. No need to mention the recent change of heart.

  ‘I know, I know that. I didn’t mean for one minute that you’d said anything to her.’ Zack was equally horrified. ‘It’s just Louisa, she’s upset and looking for someone to blame. Anyway, it’s over. She’s gone and she won’t be back. But I feel bad that you had to put up with all the hassle.’ He knocked back the last of his wine. ‘Are you seeing Todd tonight? I hope he’ll be OK with it.’

  ‘I’m not seeing him tonight.’ Ellie had already started shaking her head before the final sentence. ‘But he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Good. But I’d still like to make it up to you.’ Zack thought for a moment. ‘Look, if you’re free this evening, why don’t we go out for something to eat?’ He spread his hands. ‘Just my way of saying sorry and thanks. How about that? Sound like a plan?’

  If everything wasn’t as it was, if the situation could have been completely different, Ellie would have loved nothing more. If she didn’t work for Zack and they’d just met for the first time, she’d have said yes like a shot.

  But she did and they hadn’t, and she wasn’t going to, even though it was an innocent offer and she was tempted.

  She couldn’t anyway.

  ‘Thanks, but I can’t. I’m cooking for Tony tonight.’

  ***

  Somehow, against all the odds, a tiny miracle had occurred. The Thai green curry had turned out well. The chicken was tender, the jasmine rice fluffy, and the spices took the roof off your mouth, but in a good way. Having finally overcome her terrible phobia of fish sauce, Ellie had plucked up the courage to buy a bottle and it had made the world of difference. The curry had been magical as a result.

  Which was just as well, seeing as Tony was desperately in need of cheering up. To begin with he’d asked her about Todd and she’d told him how relieved she was to be free of the fear that she was trapped in a relationship that was all wrong. Tony was sad but sympathetic; he understood. Then she talked about today’s kerfuffle with Louisa and he nodded and said, ‘Poor girl,’ a couple of times, and helped himself to another beer.

  OK, enough. Ellie said, ‘Tony? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ She waited, watching him pour the beer slowly into his glass. ‘Because otherwise I’m going to start worrying that you’re ill.’

  Tony put the bottle down. The laughter lines around his eyes weren’t getting much exercise today. His misery was tangible. ‘I’m not ill, sweetheart.’

  He was an actor. She watched him closely. ‘Sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. I promise. It’s not that.’ He rested his elbows on the table. ‘OK, I’ll tell you. Remember those paintings I bought, months ago? The ones by the artist I met on Primrose Hill…?’

  Chapter 37

  Ellie’s throat was on fire, her body was a dead weight, and she couldn’t stop shivering. It was almost too painful to turn over in bed. Was this how it felt to climb Kilimanjaro? Oh God, Jamie, this is horrible, where are you when I need you? Can you not even get me a glass of water?

  She woke up again three hours later. It was sunny outside and the light hurt her eyes. It was even an effort to lift her head and peer at the alarm clock. Eight thirty. Oh no, what about work? But there was no way she could go in today; this wasn’t a cough or a cold, it was full-blown flu. She’d experienced it twice before in her life and now it was third time unlucky. But at least she didn’t need to wrestle with her conscience; work was out of the question. This wasn’t man flu, it was the proper kind. She’d have to call Zack and let him know.

  It took superhuman strength to crawl out of bed. Unbelievably, all she’d felt last night was extra tired and a bit hot. Now it was all she could do to make it to the bathroom for Tylenol, a glass of water, and a wee. Then through to the living room to collect her phone.

  Back in bed, breathless and weak with exhaustion, Ellie pressed buttons until Zack’s name came up. Then she heard his voice telling her he was busy right now and could she leave a message.

  ‘Zack, it’s me. Sorry, um, I’ve got flu.’ Even holding the phone was sapping her energy; the pain in her head was indescribable. ‘Can’t come into work.’ Her throat was burning and she was croaking like a frog. She sounded ridiculous, like the worst kind of malingerer putting on one of those feeble I’m-so-sick voices that didn’t fool anyone. ‘Sorry, but I can’t, I really am ill. It’s flu… OK… bye.’ She ended the call and hauled herself with difficulty over onto her side. Her eyes closed, which could only be a good thing. Sleep would take the pain away, wouldn’t it?

  The next time Ellie woke it was four o’clock and her skin hurt so much she could hardly bear the duvet to touch it. Her bones ached, and she’d never felt hotter in her life. But two minutes later, having pushed the duvet to one side, she was shivering uncontrollably once more. Her mouth was dry too, and she was thirsty beyond belief. Pushing strands of damp hair off her face only caused more pain. This was worse than Kilimanjaro in size-three high heels. OK, reach for the glass, drink the water. She managed it without spilling too much down the side of her chin. It wasn’t until the glass was empty that Ellie realized she’d forgotten to take the next two Tylenols. She couldn’t swallow them dry. But this now meant climbing out of bed to get more water. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. This was when she missed Jamie the most. And she couldn’t have picked a worse time to be ill if she tried; Tony had flown back to LA last week, Todd was away at a business conference in Edinburgh, even Roo had taken off for a few days to pay a long overdue visit to her mother in Marbella. If she were truly desperate she could call Paula, but she didn’t want to do that; it wouldn’t be fair.

  Jamie? Jamie, are you there?

  But her brain was so fogged with pain and exhaustion and cotton wool that she was unable to conjure him up. And even if she could, he wouldn’t be able to bring her another glass of water. The brutal reality was that she was here on her own. If she wanted anything, she was going to have to get it herself.

  Ellie shuffled through to the kitchen, careful not to move her head, and filled a pint glass from the tap. There was a carton of orange juice in the fridge; fumbling to get it out, she pushed the bottle of olive oil to one side and watched helplessly, with the reaction times of a slug, as it overbalanced and toppled off the shelf. The bottle smashed on the white tiles and a great pool of extra virgin olive oil glinting with glass splinters spread across the floor.

  Ellie hung on to the fridge door and gazed at the mess. You knew you were ill when you didn’t have the energy to say, ‘Fuck.’

  Since there was no way she could clear it up, she took the pint of water and shuffled back to bed. Took two more painkillers. Closed her eyes and began to doze fitfully, her feverish brain conjuring up disjointed, unrelaxing dreams…

  And now she was suffocating, being smothered by a big grizzly bear, and the phone was ringing, ringing, ringing…

  OK, so it wasn’t a bear. Ellie freed herself from the depths of the duvet and managed to locate the phone on its fifth and final ring.

  Dozily she croaked, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Did I w
ake you?’ It was Zack’s voice. ‘I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her throat felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant fist, she could barely swallow. Was he calling her to see if she was really ill or just faking it? He sounded concerned but maybe that was to catch her out. ‘Um, I don’t think I’ll be able to come into work tomorrow…’ She began to cough feebly, the pain slicing through her brain. ‘Ow, sorry…’

  ‘Don’t apologize. Of course you can’t work. Have you seen a doctor?’

  ‘No…’ Stupidly, she hadn’t yet got around to registering with a local doctor’s office. What were the chances of her old GP trekking over from Hammersmith?

  ‘Is there someone to look after you?’

  Another fit of coughing seized her. ‘No.’

  ‘Where’s Todd?’

  ‘Away at a business conference.’

  ‘Can you get out of bed?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Right. I’m coming over.’

  ‘No, no… I’ll be OK. You don’t want to catch this.’

  Zack ignored her. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  I need Jamie. She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Painkillers. Strong ones. I’ve run out.’

  ‘I’ve got some. I’m on my way.’

  Ellie rubbed a hand over her face; had she ever looked worse than this? Oh well, too ill to care, she swallowed with difficulty. ‘Thanks.’

  The doorbell duly rang fifteen minutes later. She pressed the buzzer to let him in and collapsed back into bed.

  ***

  Zack entered the flat and heard a voice call out weakly, ‘I’m in here.’

  The door to her bedroom was open, the curtains drawn across. The faint smell of her perfume hung in the air. Huddled under the duvet, Ellie lay shivering and deathly pale. She waggled the fingers of her left hand at him and murmured, ‘Don’t come any closer.’

  ‘I’m never ill.’ Ignoring her, he approached the bed. ‘Have you been here on your own all day?’

  She nodded fractionally and winced. ‘It’s only flu.’

  ‘I’ve brought Ibuprofen, Tylenol, and Night Nurse.’ He placed them on the bedside table and picked up the empty glasses. ‘I’ll get you some fresh water. Or how about a cup of tea?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Just water.’ She stiffened, remembering something. ‘From the bathroom. Don’t go into the kitchen, there’s a mess. I had an accident.’

  Zack wanted to hold her, take her in his arms, scoop her up, and carry her home. Instead, he left the bedroom and pushed open the door to the kitchen. For a horrified split second, greeted by the sight of a golden puddle, he thought she’d had that kind of accident. Then he saw the broken glass and realized it was olive oil.

  ‘Here.’ He went back with a glass of water. ‘Now let’s sort out your pillows.’

  Ellie rolled over to the side of the bed and he plumped up the flattened pillows. Then he helped her into a semisitting position so she could take two tablets and wash them down with water. It was the most physical contact they’d ever had and it felt incredible. Ellie was ill and he loved being able to help her. He even loved that her skin was shiny and pale green and her stringy hair was all over the place. She was wearing a dark blue jersey nightdress that was slipping off one shoulder and he wasn’t even going to think about the fact that this might be the only item of clothing she had on.

  Returning to the bedroom twenty minutes later, he said, ‘How about some fruit juice?’

  Ellie shook her head fractionally, ‘Don’t go into the kitchen.’

  ‘It’s OK, all cleared up.’

  ‘What?’ She frowned. ‘The olive oil? Oh God, you didn’t.’ It had actually been a nightmare job; every time he’d scrubbed the floor and wiped it dry, stepping on it had revealed that the tiles were still as slippery as an ice rink.

  But he was keen to impress, so Zack shrugged and said easily, ‘Not a problem.’

  ‘I can’t believe you cleaned my kitchen floor.’ She looked mortified.

  ‘Hey, it’s done. Don’t worry about it.’ He picked up the tissue box on the bedside table. ‘This is almost empty. Do you have any more?’

  ‘No. It’s OK, there’s loo roll.’

  ‘You can’t use that. I’ll get you another box. I need to go now but I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  ‘You don’t have to come back.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you on your own like this. You’re ill. Get some sleep now.’ Zack leaned over the bed and straightened pillows that didn’t need straightening. ‘Do you want to give me the key so I don’t have to ring the bell?’

  She nodded. ‘In my handbag in the living room. Could I have a…? No, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Say it. Anything you like.’

  A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Great, I’ll have a red Mercedes and a diamond tiara.’

  ‘Right.’ In that moment Zack knew he loved her, he actually loved her. ‘Well, that might take a couple of days to organize. Anything else in the meantime?’

  ‘A can of Sprite would be fantastic.’

  ‘Now you’re just being greedy. But you’re the invalid, so OK.’

  Another smile. ‘Thanks.’

  Chapter 38

  Ellie slept again, waking up two hours later to the sound of Zack letting himself into the flat. God, brave of him to come back. So kind. A grateful tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye; when you felt this ill, it was so lovely not to feel abandoned and alone.

  She probably needed a shower but that was impossible; the thought of drops of water pummeling her skin was too agonizing to contemplate. Ellie prayed she didn’t smell.

  But when he came into the bedroom with a can of Sprite and a pink bendy straw so she didn’t spill it down her front, Zack didn’t appear to be holding his breath. Maybe she was OK. He did her pillows again, smoothed out the duvet, and re-tucked the corners of the bottom sheet that with all her tossing and turning had come untucked.

  ‘It’s dark outside.’ The Sprite, ice-cold and delicious, soothed her burning throat.

  ‘Ten o’clock. Time for more Ibuprofen.’ He popped them out of their foil packet and handed them over before tearing the perforated cardboard oval from the lid of the new box of Kleenex. ‘Can you manage anything to eat?’

  Ellie closed her eyes, contemplated food, shook her head. ‘No thanks. Not hungry. This Sprite is perfect.’

  ‘Good. Now, do you want to lie on the sofa and watch TV for a bit?’

  Television. Needing to concentrate. Having to keep her eyes open. ‘I think I’m too tired.’

  ‘OK, you go back to sleep. I’ve brought my laptop with me. I’m going to do some work for the next couple of hours. If you need anything, just give me a shout.’

  ‘You don’t need to stay. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You might be fine. But what if you’re not? Look, it’s not a problem. It makes no difference to me whether I’m working here or at home. And just so you know, there are plenty more Sprites in the fridge.’

  So kind, so thoughtful. And he didn’t need to be doing any of this. Ellie turned onto her side and drifted off again, comforted by the knowledge that there was someone else in the flat, for the time being at least.

  It was four thirty when she next came to, nudged into semi consciousness by her bladder. For several seconds she couldn’t work out if it was morning or afternoon. Right, still dark outside, that had to mean morning. Blurrily she felt her way out of bed and across the room to the en-suite. That was better. OK, now she was upright, how about a trip to the kitchen for another cold Sprite?

  Shuffling along the hallway she saw the living-room door was ajar and prodded it open. The lights were low and Zack’s laptop stood open on the coffee table. Zack was stretched across the sofa, fast asleep.

  Fuzzy-headed and weak-limbed though she was, Ellie couldn’t stop looking at him; it was literally impossible to tear her gaze away. She’d never seen Zack sleeping before. In th
e warm glow of the table lamp his face was relaxed, softened. His dark lashes cast shadows beneath his eyes and his cheekbones were enhanced. There was stubble on his chin. He was lying on his back with his feet crossed at the ankles and one hand resting on his chest. His breathing was even. Best of all, he wasn’t making a sound.

  A non-snorer. Always nice to know.

  OK, stop that. You’re ill.

  Ellie turned away and headed for the kitchen. He’d done a good job on the floor; it wasn’t slippy at all. Feeling more awake now, and fractionally better than before, she opened the fridge and took out another can of Sprite. It took three goes to get the ringpull off. Zack had also bought yogurts, strawberry mousses, jellies, and various bottles of freshly squeezed juice. Her stomach growled; she hadn’t eaten anything for over twenty-four hours. She closed the fridge and left the kitchen, unable to resist another peep into the living room on her way back to bed.

  But this time Zack’s eyes were open, her fridge investigation evidently having woken him up. He turned his head to look at her and said sleepily, ‘You were supposed to give me a shout. I’d have got that for you.’

  ‘It’s OK, I needed a wee anyway.’ Oh God, I can’t believe I just said that.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Ellie hung on to the door. ‘Embarrassed that I just said wee in front of my boss.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t be. It’s what all my sisters say. I’m quite used to it.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone home ages ago.’

  ‘I’m not fussy where I sleep. This is a comfortable sofa. You’re looking a bit better.’

  ‘That’s hard to believe.’ Ellie raked her fingers through her hair. Glancing down, she double-checked that the nightie came to just above her knees. That was OK; she didn’t want to give him an inadvertent flash of her pink knickers. If she’d realized he was still here, she would have put on a dressing gown. But it was too late now, he’d seen her in her deeply unglamorous nightwear and bare legs.