The Best Medicine

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  I was already falling asleep when he came in carrying a tray. He set a glass of water on the bedside table with some more pills, which he told me to take as soon as I woke up, then handed me a hot water bottle to cuddle. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed a sandwich bag full of frozen peas on my swollen cheek.

  ‘There, how does that feel?’

  ‘Really nice,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Are you going to be ok on your own? If you don’t mind me using your number, I can ring you in the morning to see how you are.’

  ‘I’ll be fine now, and it would be nice to hear from you tomorrow, you know, just in case Mrs. Tibbles is chewing on my flesh as she didn’t get her fresh diced chicken dinner.’

  ‘She has expensive tastes,’ he grinned, running a hand over my hair, over and over, making me even sleepier. It was so nice to have someone look after me.

  ‘Hmmm,’ I agreed, fighting my eyes closing.

  ‘I’m going to leave you now. You have my number in your recent calls, so call me if you need me, it doesn’t matter what time, ok?’

  ‘You’re so nice, Kitt. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Sweet dreams, Charlie,’ he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

  ‘Hmmm,’ I agreed, pretty sure I was going to as I gave in and let my eyes close.

  The Next Day – Saturday

  I spent the day pottering around and snoozing, too tired and sore to do anything else. I looked like I’d been in a horrific accident. I managed to have some soggy cereal for breakfast, and heated up more chicken soup for lunch without incident. I’d finally had Heath over a few weeks ago to put in a new glass hob for me, that glowed bright red to tell me which one was on. I still had areas where the ridges of my fingertips were missing from when I’d burnt them, which could be handy if I ever decided to kill off Mrs. Vickers, as the police wouldn’t be able to trace me without fingerprints.

  I decided to light a fire and snuggle down on the sofa for the night to watch some movies. I had one can of chicken soup left to have for dinner, with two slices of bread that I could soak in it, then I was going to have to venture out to do some shopping tomorrow. Not least for Mrs. Tibbles, who was most unimpressed not to have had her weekend treats and be relegated to cheap, shop-bought cat food pouches.

  At least she was happy that she could come and go when she wanted, as Heath had also put a cat flap in the utility door, which worked off Tibbs’ microchip. It did confuse her, though, when I locked it overnight to make sure she wasn’t out in the dark. She persisted in bashing her head against it for a good five minutes to test whether it would magically open like it normally did. She seemed to have a heightened instinct for hunting prey at dawn and dusk, so that was one good reason to keep her in. I’d soon spotted a pattern in the amount of mice and other furry critters I’d had to chase around the house to rescue and set free again once the sun was going down or rising. It wasn’t like she brought me headless prey. She carried them in alive and dropped them at my feet with a “look at the lovely gift I’ve brought you, human” look on her face. I really hadn’t fancied waking up to find various woodland animals on the pillow next to my face, so the cat flap was locked, much to her chagrin.

  I scooped up my phone when I heard it ping to find I had a text from an unknown number.

  Hi Charlie, it’s Kitt. How are you feeling today? I’ve booked Vicky to come an hour earlier so I can pop by on my way to work to check in on you, if that’s ok? Please say if you’re not up for company, or if I’m crowding you.

  I smiled to myself as I read his message. How could he think he was crowding me? Next to Daphne, Abbie, and Georgie, he was my closest friend since I’d moved here.

  It would be lovely to see you. I’ll put the kettle on. And don’t worry, I know not to touch that to check it’s boiled!

  You know I was worried for a moment, he replied with a winking face emoji. See you in a while.

  I debated going upstairs to get changed and put a bit of makeup on to make myself look more presentable, but decided against it. It was only Kitt. He was used to seeing me in my sweats and a t-shirt, bare faced. Now, if Dr. Fitton was on his way, that would be a whole other ball game. I’d have been dashing upstairs to slip into some sexy lingerie under my red silk robe and doing my face and hair. I sighed as I thought of him. My crush hadn’t faded at all. If anything, it had only grown. The less I saw of him, the more I wanted him.

  ‘Hey,’ I greeted when I answered the door to Kitt a while later.

  ‘Hey,’ he smiled back, then winced as he saw the state of my face. ‘You look worse than yesterday, if that’s even possible.’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed, gesturing for him to come inside. ‘And I have serious tongue ache, too.’

  ‘Do I want to know why?’ he asked, setting down a carrier bag which clunked heavily on the oak floor as he toed off his boots.

  ‘I can’t stop poking at the hole where my tooth was,’ I huffed, pushing the door shut behind him. ‘It’s like a sickness. The more I poke, the more my tongue aches and there’s this nasty-tasting stuff in there and the stitches are hanging down too, but I just can’t seem to stop myself.’

  ‘You don’t want to get an infection, Charlie,’ he warned, shooting me a concerned look.

  ‘I know. Maybe I need a tongue clamp to keep it in place, stop it wandering where it shouldn’t.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he laughed. I gasped as Tibbs shot out of the lounge and dove head first into Kitt’s bag.

  ‘Mrs. Tibbles,’ I scolded, bending down to scoop her up, which prompted a growl as she tried to get out of my grasp. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Do you always talk to the cat?’

  ‘Bet you think I’m crazy, huh?’

  ‘I would if you said she answered you. She can probably smell the chicken I cooked for her,’ Kitt shrugged, scooping the bag up off the floor.

  ‘The what you what?’ I blinked at him a few times in surprise.

  ‘You said she was grumpy that the shop was out of chicken, so I picked up a couple of extra breasts when I did the shopping yesterday. I was cooking chicken for me and Mum at lunchtime, so I did two breasts for Mrs. T and diced them up for her. There’s also more soup in the bag for you, a variety of tins so you don’t get bored of chicken, a loaf of soft white bread, some tins of custard too, and another pack of painkillers in case you run out. Tell me if you need anything else and I can call at the shop tomorrow and bring it over on my way to work again.’ He gave me a smile as he ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘I can’t believe you went to so much trouble, Kitt.’ I gave his arm a gentle squeeze and felt his muscle flex under my grip.

  ‘It was no trouble, I was shopping anyway. How about we feed Mrs. T before she claws you trying to get out of your arms?’ he suggested. ‘Then, if you haven’t eaten, I can do you something before I go?’

  ‘I can heat soup, you know. I’m not quite that bad,’ I laughed as I set Tibbs down and headed into the kitchen, both of them hot on my heels.

  ‘I’m more worried about you carving the loaf of bread I got you. I don’t fancy having to put your fingertips on ice while I dash you to hospital, or worse, having to take the cat to extract them from her stomach first.’

  ‘Oh God, can you imagine?’ I grimaced. He grinned at me as he set the bag on the kitchen counter.

  ‘Dr. Fitton might really think you were crazy then.’

  ‘He doesn’t need any encouragement.’

  ‘No sightings of the good doctor lately?’

  ‘No,’ I sighed as Kitt started emptying the bag of goodies. ‘I’ve even been loitering around the hospital, taking the OAPs on their appointments in the hope of seeing him, but no such luck. Unless I’m admitted to A&E again, the chances of bumping into him are minimal.’

  ‘If you like him that much, just turn up and ask to see him, then ask him on a date,’ Kitt suggested as he opened a Tupperware container to reveal a load of
juicy chunks of chicken.

  ‘I can’t do that. I might come across as a super confident and sexy woman, but inside I’m still just a scared girl who thinks the guy she likes won’t feel the same about her. Besides, I need to grow on him more.’ Tibbs stretched up to paw at the kitchen counter, her little nose twitching as she got a whiff of her favourite treat.

  ‘If you need to grow on a guy, I’d say he isn’t the right guy for you, Charlie,’ Kitt scoffed as Mrs. Tibbles let out a number of pitiful meows.

  ‘Anyone would think I starve her. Honestly, have you ever seen such a fat cat?’ I asked him as he leaned against the sink with a serious look on his face. He just didn’t get it. A woman like me might flirt and make it known she was interested, but she didn’t throw herself at a man. He had to come to her. Besides, no man meeting me under the circumstances Dr. Fitton had each time was going to be in a rush to ask me out.

  ‘She’s not fat, she’s big boned, sexily curvaceous,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, nicely done. Who trained you in the art of diplomacy with women?’ I teased, as I scooped half of the chicken into her clean bowl.

  ‘Mum,’ he replied with a quick smile at me. ‘She made sure to hammer home manners and respect from an early age.’

  ‘I would love to have met her when she was with it.’ I set Tibbs bowl on the floor and smiled as she started to wolf it down, her tail quivering with excitement. ‘I’d have told her what an amazing job she did, as you’ve turned out to be quite the man.’

  ‘Thanks, Charlie,’ he said wistfully. ‘I’d love for her to have met you, too. She’d have really liked you. Actually, I take that back, I wouldn’t have introduced you, as she’d have been nagging me incessantly, wanting to know why I hadn’t snapped you up.’

  ‘What is it with parents?’ I laughed, shaking my head. ‘They don’t get that men and women can just be friends, do they? I told my mum about you and she asked when I was going to bring you down to meet them. She said you sounded too good to be true.’

  ‘No one’s perfect, Charlie,’ he scoffed.

  ‘So, tell me what flaws you have, as so far I don’t seem to have seen any.’ I leaned against the kitchen worktop as I studied his deep-set frown while he considered his response.

  ‘I’m too soft,’ he shrugged. ‘I let people walk all over me and I don’t stand up for what I want.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I guess it doesn’t help that I didn’t have a dad when I was growing up. Mum taught me to be respectful of others, to be empathetic, and I just never learned to be selfish and put my needs first.’

  ‘It’s not selfish to do or go for what you want, Kitt,’ I said softly. ‘As long as you don’t hurt other people in the process, why should you put your needs on hold? You’re as entitled to live a happy and meaningful life as anyone else.’

  ‘If I do that, Mum suffers. I can’t do what I want, be the man that I want to be, unless I’m neglecting her.’

  ‘Then start by making small steps. Try and have a bit more time to yourself, hang out with friends and have fun once a week.’

  ‘You make it sound easy,’ he scoffed, avoiding eye contact as he crouched to give Mrs. Tibbles some affection as she washed her paws and whiskers, no trace of chicken left in her bowl.

  ‘I’m sure it’s not,’ I agreed. ‘Is money so tight that you can’t have one night a week off to go and enjoy time with your buddies?’

  ‘No. I just … never mind.’ He shook his head as he sighed.

  ‘You just what?’ I pushed.

  ‘I don’t really have any friends, not here anyway. You’re probably the closest thing I have to one,’ he admitted. His eyes shot up to meet mine, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. ‘I had to pack up my life in Newcastle to move here, and since then, I’ve been so busy looking after Mum that I haven’t had time to get out and meet people outside of work.’

  ‘Kitt,’ I whispered, my heart aching for the responsibility he’d taken on his shoulders, to his own detriment. ‘That’s no life at all.’

  ‘It is what it is. I don’t want to regret not having spent time with her when it’s too late. Anyway, I came over to cheer you up, not the other way around. I’d better cut the bread for you and get going or I’ll be late.’

  ‘You haven’t even had a drink. How about a quick coffee before you go, you look tired,’ I observed, as he stood up and ran a hand over his forehead. His green eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle and there were signs of dark shadows gathering under them.

  ‘I’ll be fine, thanks for the offer though.’ He offered me a tight-lipped smile, as if he was straining with the effort of holding in so much more that he wanted to say.

  I handed him the bread knife and busied myself putting away the tins he’d kindly brought over, saving a can of mushroom soup to heat up for my dinner. I walked him to the door when he was done and ignored his protests as I slipped him some notes. He stepped outside and bent down to pick something up from the ground, out of sight from where I was standing, but I could hear a crinkle of what sounded like a plastic bag.

  ‘Kitt,’ I gasped, as he straightened up and produced a cellophane-encased bouquet of brightly coloured gerberas.

  ‘I thought these might cheer you up,’ he said as he handed them over. I took a long, slow inhalation of the blooms. ‘They’re Mum’s favourites and they always make her smile.’

  ‘That’s so thoughtful of you, and you always cheer me up. Thanks for being such a great friend.’ I took him by surprise with a quick kiss to the cheek, that made his face blush adorably pink.

  ‘Anytime. You know my number if you need anything. Hope you’re back on pizza chewing form soon, our takings are going to drop dramatically. You might put us out of business.’

  ‘I swear pizza is the best medicine. It’s a total cure all, to make you feel better when you’re ill, cheer you up when you’re sad, or keep the momentum going when you’re on a high. But seriously, do I order that often?’ I giggled with a shake of my head.

  ‘Let’s just say you’re up there as one of our best customers,’ he called over his shoulder as he made his way up the path.

  ‘Then I hope I can put my mouth back to use soon,’ I hollered. ‘Ok, that totally didn’t sound as I intended,’ I cringed as Kitt laughed and I spotted Georgie heading up her path with an astonished look on her face.

  Chapter Eight

  Girls’ Night

  One Month Later – A Friday Night in July

  ‘DO I HAVE TO come?’ I whined, digging my heels in as Georgie dragged me up my path.

  ‘Yes. You’ve been closeted away writing for too long, we haven’t seen you for ages.’

  ‘But it’s karaoke. Karaoke. I don’t sing.’

  ‘Rubbish, you’re one of the most artistic people I’ve ever met.’

  ‘I write. I don’t sing or draw.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should. I mean honestly, you came to Dilbury to change your life. It’s been seven months and the only thing that’s changed is your location. You still order takeaways, you haven’t learned to cook, you don’t have a man in your life, and despite you somehow still having an amazing figure with all of the rubbish you eat, you haven’t started exercising like you were planning to.’ She hustled me out of the gate into the lane and gave me a wilting stare.

  ‘If only I had a friend who was dating a personal trainer,’ I said with a hint of sarcasm.

  ‘I barely see anything of Weston as it is. Find your own man to whip you into shape and prevent a pizza-related heart attack.’

  ‘I’ve found him, he just doesn’t seem to have realised that he’s found me.’

  ‘Then he’s an idiot and you need to set your sights on someone else,’ she said firmly as she linked arms with me and we made our way up the lane, me begrudgingly.

  ‘There is no one else. My sights are set. The heart wants what the heart wants and it can’t be dissuaded,’ I sighed as I thought of McFitty. It had been too long since I’d last seen him. I was
getting withdrawal symptoms.

  ‘Well, until he sees the error of his ways and sweeps you off your feet, you’re going to have a night of fun with me and Daphne, before your very first experience of the magic that is Dilbury fête.’

  ‘Daphne does karaoke?’ I spluttered.

  ‘Oh, Charlie, you have so much to learn when it comes to Daphne Jones. There’s nothing she isn’t up for. Mr. Bentley picked her up in his car earlier, they were having a quick drink and bite to eat at The Cock first.’

  ‘What about Abbie?’ I asked as we passed her cottage and Georgie showed no signs of stopping to knock on her door.

  ‘Not even a house fire would make Abbie leave her kitchen the night before the fête,’ Georgie scoffed. ‘She’s going for an eighth year as winner in three categories against Lady Kirkland.’

  ‘Then shouldn’t we be helping her?’ I suggested, hoping for a karaoke reprieve. Georgie gave me an incredulous look. ‘Not with the cooking, everyone knows it’s not my forte. But I can open packets, measure stuff, sample the merchandise.’

  ‘And we’re back to you trying to avoid piling on the pounds. Trust me, one minute in Abbie’s kitchen, full of the delicious aroma of her sugary baking, and you’d be shovelling in the cookie dough batter so fast your jeans would split and you’d be back to needing to find your own personal trainer. Besides, I’ve learned the hard way, she’s best left to her own devices.’