‘You just said you didn’t have any deodorant, which I don’t need anyway. And I also don’t need tissues as I haven’t got a cold. I want chicken and there’s no bloody chicken in the chiller.’ I was starting to lose my patience. My face was starting to crackle back to life and I just wanted to grab a couple of painkillers and head to bed to try and make up for the last couple of nights tossing and turning.
‘There’s no thickening the killer? Who’s a killer? Reg, I said, Reg. There’s been a murder in Dilbury,’ she hollered, her eyes wide with surprise.
‘A murder?’ he shouted, still not moving from his place in front of the television.
‘No,’ I said firmly as Mrs. Vickers said, ‘Yes.’
‘There’s no killer,’ I groaned. My God, it wasn’t easy coming in here at the best of times.
‘Well, why did you say there was? Honestly, you scared the living daylights out of me. A killer, here in Dilbury? Gave me quite a turn, it did.’
‘There’s no killer. I’m trying to tell you that there’s no chicken. In. The. Chiller.’
‘I have no idea what you’re saying, dear. This is the trouble with all you foreigners moving over here, no one can understand you. Maybe you ought to try speaking English.’
‘Jesus. I’m going to kill you and stuff you in the chiller in a minute,’ I grumbled as I keyed out my predicament and showed it to her. I had visions of me abandoning my usual writing genre to do a factual crime thriller, where the shopkeeper was carved up, then shrink-wrapped and sold as prime steak to the unsuspecting villagers.
‘Well, why didn’t you say there’s no chicken in the chiller. Reg, why’s there no chicken in the chiller? Reg?’
‘Sold out, love. It’s delivery day tomorrow,’ he called.
‘Poor Mrs. Tibbles,’ I sighed. She wasn’t going to be happy. Cooked diced chicken was her favourite meal. Plus, if I wanted some sleep, it meant I’d have to shut her out of the bedroom, which would really put her nose out of joint.
‘You want some vegetables? Are we out of vegetables as well?’ Mrs. Vickers asked.
‘I give up,’ I huffed, pointing at the village newsletter instead. I had a feeling if I walked out of here without gelatine, tissues, deodorant, or vegetables, my name would be mud, so best to buy something to placate her.
Two Days Later – Friday
‘Well, how did you manage to break a tooth in half?’ Mr. Wankowski asked as I settled back into his chair.
‘I didn’t do anything. The night you’d done the root canal, I was eating some ice cream and most of the tooth slid out,’ I grumbled. To make matters worse, it was the tooth right next to the one he’d worked on. I was convinced his brutal treatment of it had damaged the other one.
‘Well, it’s beyond repair and there’s not a lot of tooth left visible for me to grip. I’m afraid we need to cut your gum open to pull it out. While I’ve got you anaesthetised, I may as well remove that temporary filling and finish your root canal treatment, if you can bear to have your mouth open that long.’
‘Go for it,’ I sighed. It was a good job I was selling enough books to cover the cost of all of this. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was lying on a Caribbean beach in the sun as he set to work.
Even with my vivid imagination, I wasn’t able to zone out. First, there was the drilling, then the ramming of the metal band of torture, followed by lots of forceful jabs as he muttered about still not being able to find the third root, then a triumphant shout as he did and slammed the reamer down inside it. He packed in the filling, then began the same process as last time of trying to remove the band. By the time he was done, I already had face and neck ache, and quite possibly lock jaw, and he still needed to pull the remains of the other tooth.
‘Try and relax,’ the tongue sucker soothed as she held my shoulders down while Mr. W jerked my head up and down as he tried to pull the tooth out.
‘Stubborn little sucker,’ he huffed. His assistant stuck her arm on my forehead to try and hold me still as he used his pliers to yank without so much as even a wiggle. ‘Ok, I need to try this from another angle, keep her held down,’ he ordered.
Seconds later, without giving me any chance to protest, he’d mounted the chair and was straddling me. Now here was a man in desperate need of Mrs. Vickers’ deodorant. I was gagging and choking as he continued to try and work the tooth loose with his privates far too close to my face for my liking. I was on the verge of tears when he almost fell off the chair as he finally yanked the bloody remains of my tooth out. I might not have been able to feel my face, but my neck and forehead were killing me as he stitched my gum closed and told me to rinse out the blood in my mouth, which I managed to dribble all over my face again.
‘Oops,’ I heard him mutter.
‘Oops?’ I mumbled. Those were words you never wanted to hear from a doctor or dentist who’d just performed a procedure on you.
‘Ermmm, I’m missing a bit of metal off my reamer.’
‘What?’ I spluttered, sitting back up to face him, a load of napkins pressed against my mouth to try and catch the combined drool and blood leaking from my mouth.
He grimaced and held up the reamer he’d used to scoop out the nerve from that last root, then held up a brand new one for me to see how much of the metal was missing. It was significant.
‘Did you swallow anything?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied, shaking my head.
‘Hmmm, it must still be in your tooth then, and I’ve already filled it. I can either remove the filling and try and get it out, or we can just leave it be. It shouldn’t cause you any problems.’
‘I just want to go home,’ I whined, not sure I was in a fit state to be making any decisions right then. I’d never felt so battered and bruised.
I slowly made my way to the car, feeling sick and light headed. I clutched the wad of napkins to my mouth, noticing the strange looks I was getting as I passed people. Once I was sitting in my car, I looked at myself and started to cry. My face was so swollen and already bruising, I had dried blood smeared all over my one cheek and my chin, and blood splatter all over the neckline of my cream top. And to add insult to injury, I had a big red button mark across my forehead from the dental assistant’s shirt cuff pressing down on me. If ever I’d wanted a boyfriend that I could ring to say “Come and get me, I need you,” it was right then. Sometimes being single and self-sufficient sucked.
The sound of my mobile ringing woke me up, and I peeled my face off the pillow and swiped to answer it.
‘Hello,’ I mewled.
‘Charlie? Are you ok?’
‘Pizzaman?’ I mumbled, not sure if I was hearing things.
‘Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be ringing you, client confidentiality and all, but I’m calling while I’m at work, so technically I haven’t stolen your private number. It’s just it’s Friday night, and you always have pizza on a Friday night, and I’m about to clock off.’
‘I do?’ I asked, flopping back down onto the pillow as I held the phone to the side of my face that didn’t look like I’d been in a boxing ring and lost. Did I really order pizza every Friday? So much for my healthy eating plan, I was obviously failing miserably.
‘Yes,’ he chuckled.
‘Every Friday?’ I asked, still not convinced.
‘Except the last Friday of the month, and sometimes on a Wednesday too. I was worried as you haven’t placed your order. I thought I’d better check if you wanted one before I left.’
‘That’s so nice of you, but I can’t eat. Ever again,’ I moaned dramatically. ‘I’ve been mouth-butchered by Mr. Wanky and the tongue sucker.’
‘You’ve what?’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s a long story involving a brutal dentist and his sidekick. I can barely open my mouth it’s so swollen. I’m in agony and I feel awful.’
‘Who’s looking after you?’ he asked, sounding adorably concerned.
‘No one. Unless you count Mrs. Tibbles,
who pops her head in to moan at me from time to time. I’m starving, but I can’t even chew. I tried a cookie earlier, but I can’t fit it through the gap in my lips. My jaw’s too sore to open any wider.’
‘You can’t not eat, Charlie. Can’t your friends come and cook something for you?’
‘Abbie’s in New York, Georgie’s on a date with Weston, and I don’t want to bother Daphne. I’ll be fine. They’ll find my shrivelled body in a week or two, if Tibbs hasn’t eaten the evidence.’
‘Always with a sense of humour,’ he chuckled.
‘Laugh or cry, and I’m very close to crying right now,’ I admitted, my bottom lip trembling. ‘Thanks for checking on me, Kitt. That was really sweet of you. I’ll be ordering my usual as soon as I gain function of my face again.’
‘Ok, well … just take care, Charlie. I hope you’re feeling better soon.’
‘Me too,’ I huffed.
We ended the call and I pulled the duvet back over my head, trying to ignore the throbbing jaw ache and the grumbling of my ravenous stomach. Instead I willed myself to dream of a sexy Dr. Fitton tending to me, wearing just a pair of tightly fitted boxers.
‘Who the hell is that?’ I grumbled, as a loud knock at the door disturbed the rather vivid fantasy I was playing out in my head. ‘Tibbs!’ I scolded as she batted my nose a little too forcefully when my face appeared from under the duvet and I found her sitting on my pillow, waiting for me.
I grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on as I stumbled over to the bedroom door. If it was sales people, they were about to get a mouthful. The knocking continued as I gingerly made my way downstairs and cracked open the front door and peeked out.
‘Kitt?’ I blinked at him a few times, totally confused. ‘Am I delirious? Did I order a pizza without knowing it?’
‘No, no pizza. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone and hungry. I wanted to make sure you were ok. Can I come in?’
‘I … I guess, but I’m a state,’ I warned him, grimacing when I took a quick look at myself in the hall mirror. My hair was sticking on end and matted from tossing around trying to get comfortable in bed, and I still had dried blood on my face, which was so swollen and bruised.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped as I pulled the door open.
‘I warned you.’ I tried to smile, but winced and gently palmed my cheek.
‘Well, if you’re ok to have some company for a while, I brought you painkillers and some chicken soup.’ He waved a bag at me as he stood on the doorstep, and I felt my eyes fill up with tears, totally touched at his thoughtfulness.
‘That’s so sweet of you,’ I said quietly as I waved him in, suddenly acutely aware that I was naked under a fairly short t-shirt. ‘I’d better go and get changed.’
‘No objections on my part if you don’t,’ he teased with a wink. He stepped in and immediately toed off his army boots. ‘How about I go and heat up some soup for you while you get changed?’
‘But … you’re already late,’ I warned as I checked my watch. ‘What about your mum?’
‘I asked Vicky to stay on with her a bit longer so I could come check in on you. I had a feeling if I didn’t, you’d starve to death or die of dehydration from crying yourself to sleep.’
‘Kitt, you didn’t need to do that.’
‘That’s what friends do, right? And you said we were friends now,’ he reminded me, wincing as he took in my face properly. ‘Do you have any peas in the freezer?’
‘I think I might. Everyone has an old pack of peas in the freezer, don’t they? So, you’re going to cook me soup with a side serving of them?’
‘No,’ he laughed with a shake of his head. ‘The peas are to try and help reduce the swelling. Go on, go and get changed and I’ll rummage for a saucepan and stuff in your kitchen, if that’s ok?’
‘Sure, thank you.’ I gave his arm a grateful squeeze.
I left him in my kitchen and headed back up to pull on some knickers and a pair of my comfy sweatpants. I brushed my hair and then wrapped a cardigan around myself as I shivered, belting it tightly. I could hear him rummaging around downstairs, humming to himself. It was weird to hear anyone using my kitchen, let alone a man. By the time I’d made it down, he’d already laid out a tray with a bowl and spoon and a glass of water.
‘Come here,’ he ordered, beckoning me over to the sink. I did as I was told, too tired and grumpy to even ask why. As I reached him, he gently moved my hair away from the carnage that was my face and swept some damp, but warm, kitchen towel across it. I winced and he grimaced as he held my chin with his other hand and carried on wiping. ‘Sorry, just trying to clean up this dried blood. The dentist seriously did this to you? You look awful.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You know what I meant. You look better already with that mess off your face, except you look pale and tired. Here, I put some painkillers next to the water. Why don’t you take those and go and sit in your lounge while I heat up your soup.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered gratefully, doing as I was told. It had been a long time since I’d felt so rough, even longer since someone had taken care of me. It was a nice feeling not to have to fend for myself for once. Mrs. Tibbles stayed to supervise the newcomer in her kitchen while I went and turned up the heating. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, hugging a cushion to my stomach to comfort myself.
‘Here you are,’ Kitt smiled as he came through carrying the tray, the smell of the chicken soup making my stomach growl loudly. I was starving, I hadn’t eaten anything all day. He chuckled and handed the tray over. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’
‘Help yourself to a drink,’ I offered, balancing the tray on the cushion on my lap. ‘There’s tea or coffee in the canisters by the kettle, or water, soda, or beer in the fridge.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if that’s ok?’
‘Of course it is, the least I can do after you came and cooked for me.’ I blew on my soup to cool it down.
‘Hardly cooking, opening a tin and heating it up,’ he laughed. ‘But thanks.’
He returned a while later with his drink, as I slowly took tiny mouthfuls of the delicious soup, keeping the hot liquid on the opposite side of my battered face and gum.
‘Good?’ he asked as he sat next to me.
‘Mmmm,’ I nodded.
‘Well, I put another couple of tins in your cupboard. After what you said on the phone, I figured you might not feel like chewing for a few days.’
‘Thank you, I’ll sort you some money before you go. Talk to me, as I’m not really up for conversation. Tell me how things are going at work and at home,’ I suggested as I continued to slurp in a most unladylike fashion.
It was soothing to hear his melodious voice as he filled me in on his week so far. Even Tibbs, who usually treated visitors to her home with disdain, came strutting in to join us. In an uncharacteristic display of friendliness towards a stranger, she jumped onto Kitt’s lap and kneaded him, purring as he stroked her with one hand, his other stretched behind me on the back of the sofa while he told me more about his mum.
I set my tray down on the coffee table when I was done and tucked my legs up under me as I sat sideways on the sofa to look at him as he talked. He spoke about his mum with obvious warmth and love in his tone. There was no hint that he begrudged how much she impacted on his life, no sense of anger at how everything revolved around her while his needs were put to one side. He really was incredible. I did my best to listen, but the painkillers were kicking in and with a bellyful of nice hot soup and his soft tone lulling me, I felt myself starting to get drowsy.
A loud snort startled me and I suddenly jerked, snapping my eyes open as I realised that awful noise had been me.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kitt,’ I gasped as I quickly bolted upright. It was bad enough I’d just nodded off when he was talking to me, but I’d slid forwards and had been nestled under his arm with my head on his chest. I quickly reached out to try and wipe an unattractive streak of drool from his t-shirt, compl
etely mortified, but he just laughed.
‘Come on, it’s time I left and you went to bed. I’m so boring, you fell asleep on me,’ he chuckled as he bravely scooped up Tibbs from his lap, stood up, and set her down in the warm spot he’d vacated on the sofa.
‘I’m sorry. You’re not boring, not at all. You know I love talking to you, but I’m so exhausted. I haven’t slept well for days,’ I said, stifling a yawn, partly not wanting to embarrass him, but partly terrified of hurting my face. ‘I’ve drooled on your t-shirt too.’
‘That’s ok, it will come out in the wash. Besides, it’s not like I wear my best clothes to work anyway.’
‘All the same, it’s really rude of me when you went to the trouble of coming over to take care of me. I really appreciate it.’ My legs gave out on me as I stood. I was actually beyond exhausted. I had a feeling I could sleep for days.
‘Ok, you’re not climbing the stairs like that,’ he scolded with a frown. Before I could protest, he’d swept my feet off the floor and lifted me up into his arms. ‘Tell me where I’m going,’ he ordered as he strode out of the lounge and made a start upstairs.
‘First door on the left,’ I squeaked, not sure if I was embarrassed or on the verge of swooning to have a man handle me like that. No one had ever swooped me up like that, the way I’d written about so often. It was so … manly and hot! And he made it seem so effortless, even with my curves. ‘Aren’t I heavy?’
‘Light as a feather,’ he grinned down at me. ‘I’m going to get you into bed, then sort your face out.’
‘Oh hello, that sounded a bit rude.’
‘Charlie,’ he laughed as he shook his head. ‘Always with the humour and double entendres. I meant I’m going to look for something cold to hold on your cheek for a while, then I’ll leave you to have a good night’s sleep.’
I gave him a half-smile, making sure not to move the bad side of my face. He was making me hungry again. I could smell pizza on him, as well as that scent of the ocean he always seemed to wear. I studied his deep green eyes. They reminded me of Dr. Fitton’s, except Kitt’s didn’t have gold flecks. They were a really deep green that resembled the luminescent sheen of pure emeralds. As he carried me through my bedroom towards my unmade rumpled bed, I decided that he had really kind eyes. He was kind. How many guys would have come to look after me like this without expecting something in return? Why oh why couldn’t I feel that chemistry I so often wrote about with Kitt? He gently set me down on the bed with a promise to return, then strode out. I waited until I heard him jog down the stairs before I pulled off my sweatpants and cardigan and lay down, pulling the duvet up to my chin as I stifled another yawn.
The Best Medicine Page 10