by Jill Mansell
‘These roast potatoes are fantastic,’ she marvelled. ‘And that’s a compliment, because I’m a connoisseur. Seriously, these are almost as good as mine.’
‘I’m honoured.’ Amused, Luke put the last potato on her plate. ‘Try this one, it might be even better.’
‘Oh God, it’s Mum again.’ Hallie’s phone was beeping with yet another message. She pulled a face; she’d diverted all calls to voicemail so the dialling tone wouldn’t give away the fact that she wasn’t in France, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘I’ll have to call her back.’
She rang the number, coughing first to clear her throat and prepare to sound well.
‘There you are!’ her mum exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you answer before? I was worried about you!’
‘Mum, everything’s fine. We were out at a bistro. Now we’re back at the hotel.’
Years of worry had fine-tuned Fay’s ears to the sound of her voice. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? You sound chesty.’
‘I’m great. Just tired. That’s why I’m in bed.’ To divert attention away from her lungs, Hallie said, ‘The hotel’s fantastic and my room’s really nice!’
Well, it had looked good on the website.
‘Oh darling, I’d love to see it! I know, why don’t we Skype? Then you can show me everything!’
Aaarrgh. ‘I’d love to, but I can’t. Bea tried earlier and there isn’t enough signal.’
‘Oh that’s a shame. But at least you can send photos! Take a picture and email it to me now!’
‘Um . . .’ Shit, shit. Hallie switched to speakerphone so Luke could hear what was going on too.
‘You can do it while you’re talking to me.’ Fay’s tone was eager. ‘Go on, sweetie, take a photo so I can see your room!’
Chapter 16
‘OK, hang on.’ Thinking fast, Hallie gazed around Luke’s living room and found a section that was safe to photograph. Switching to the camera and holding up the phone, she directed the lens at the area with the comfortable blue sofa to the left, the coffee table in front of it and the curtained window to the right. There were a couple of framed paintings on the wall. Whoops, and a medical journal was visible on the shelf next to the window. Hastily gesturing for Luke to remove it, she took the photo and emailed it to her mother. ‘Right, sent. How’s Edinburgh?’
‘Wonderful, darling. Bit rainy, but so beautiful. Pete sends his love, by the way; we’re having such fun . . . wow, the photo’s here already, that was quick. I thought there wasn’t much signal. Oh dear, you said your room was really nice!’
‘Mum! It is.’ Bugger, speakerphones had their downside.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. I just thought the hotel was really modern. I suppose I was expecting a bit more glitz and glamour.’
‘I know, and the rest of it is like that, but I’m in the annexe because of my wheelchair. And it’s lovely,’ Hallie stressed. ‘All cosy and warm. I much prefer this kind of room.’
‘Well as long as you’re happy.’ Sounding doubtful, her mother said, ‘But it doesn’t look terribly French. Is the bed OK?’
‘Of course it’s OK!’
‘I mean, is it clean?’
‘Mum . . .’ Hallie broke into a cough.
‘Oh darling, you do sound chesty. Take a photo of yourself and let me see you. Is it a French-looking bed? I love those ones with the carved headboards.’
Luckily, Luke knew what a worrier her mum was. Already ahead of her, he was pointing to the staircase and lifting the oxygen cylinder. Hallie nodded and rose to her feet, and together, connected by the clear plastic tubing of her nasal cannulae, they silently ascended the stairs.
Luke’s bedroom was small but pretty tidy. The duvet was deep red, the pillowcases blue and white striped, the bed a standard double. He placed the cylinder on the floor next to the bed, threw back the duvet and helped Hallie into it. Her mum was chattering on about Edinburgh and Princes Street now, as Luke plumped up the pillows and she arranged herself accordingly.
Holding up the camera, Hallie took a photo of herself cosily ensconced in Luke’s bed. Ooh, Matron . . .
‘This one’s taking longer to get through,’ said her mother. ‘Oh, here it comes now.’ There was silence as she studied the photograph. ‘Hmm, well if you say it’s all right. Bit quirky, though, having striped pillowcases in a hotel.’
All right, Miss Marple. In a firm voice, Hallie said, ‘I like quirky. And it’s red, white and blue, like the French flag.’
‘Where are the other girls?’
‘Down in the bar. I’m having an early night, ready for tomorrow. I’ll be the smug one without a hangover.’
‘Well make sure you don’t overtire yourself. Night, sweetheart, I’ll give you another call tomorrow, see how you’re doing. Make sure you keep your phone switched on.’
With the call over, Luke carried the oxygen cylinder back downstairs and Hallie followed him. Reinstated on the sofa, she said, ‘Sorry, I know it’s stupid. She’s my mum, though.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘I’m twenty-eight.’ Hallie shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Sometimes you’d think I was six.’
‘She’s never going to stop worrying about you.’
‘Because she doesn’t know how long she has left to worry about me.’ As Hallie said it, another message pinged up on her phone and she glanced at the screen.
‘Your mum again?’
‘No. It’s from Nick.’
‘Ex-boyfriend Nick?’ Luke knew the name; they’d talked about him before. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Melbourne. Crewing on a yacht. Swimming with dolphins, snorkelling with seals. Having fun.’
Nick had sent a photo as well, of himself and his friends celebrating the end of a perfect day on the yacht. Their faces were the epitome of happiness, their bodies lithe and tanned as they beamed and raised their bottles of beer to the camera, whilst behind them the sun began to set, its rippled reflection bright in the glittering cobalt sea . . .
Hallie tilted the phone so Luke could see it too. ‘And unlike our faked photos, his are the real deal.’
‘How does that feel?’
She paused, then said drily, ‘It’s nice of him to keep in touch. But sometimes . . . well, I could do without the reminders.’
Luke went into the kitchen to make coffee and Hallie took one last look at the picture of Nick on her phone. What was the famous quote: don’t be sad that it’s over, be glad that it happened?
Something like that, anyway.
And yes, she did do her best to live by that mantra, but just sometimes the reality of her own life made it hard to stay positive.
Nick’s message said: Hey, you! How’s everything? Haven’t caught a single kangaroo today – don’t know WHAT I’m doing wrong! Maybe a different kind of fishing line needed?? Xxx
Hallie typed: Glad you’re having a great time. All good here. Yes, you need to put Tim Tams on your fishing hooks – kangaroos love them. Xxx
Having replied to his breezy message, using the same number of kisses he had, she duly deleted his text and photo.
Luke, back from the kitchen, watched her do it. ‘What happened with you two? Can I ask that question?’
‘Of course you can ask. You want the whole story?’ She waited for him to settle down with his coffee. ‘Nick was my first proper boyfriend. His family moved to Carranford . . . God, must have been eight years ago now. I was twenty, Nick was nineteen. We met in the pub one night and it was just . . . wow. Lust at first sight.’ Hallie smiled at the memory of that long hot summer; she didn’t have to explain to Luke that her lungs hadn’t been as bad then as they were now. The limitations on physical activities had been far fewer and the spark between her and Nick had been mutual and instantaneous. ‘He was so carefree and enthusiastic about everything. We fell in love. We didn’t actually have too much in common, but who cared about that?’ She paused and pulled a face. ‘Well, apart from Nick’s family and my mum. They didn’t want their perfect so
n getting himself involved with someone in my situation. And my mum just knew I was the one who’d end up getting hurt. She was desperate to protect me. Except I was twenty, so obviously I wasn’t going to listen to her. As far as Nick and I were concerned, we were Romeo and Juliet. Everyone was trying to split us up, which just made us that much more determined to make it work. Nick’s mum was terrified I was going to get pregnant and trap him that way. She couldn’t understand why he would want to be tied down with someone with CF when there were so many completely normal girls to choose from.’
Luke didn’t bother with the usual platitudes. ‘And how long did you stay together?’
‘Two years. Then the novelty began to wear off, I suppose. Nick was at Bath University, being a student and doing all the normal student things. He was sporty, he wanted to travel . . . I’m guessing it began to sink in that I was never going to miraculously get better. Then after his degree his parents paid for him to take a year off and go travelling around the world. Well, that was pretty much it. Travelling was what he wanted to do and I couldn’t stop him. That was when we broke up. And a few weeks after he left, his parents put their house up for sale and moved to Manchester.’
Luke whistled. ‘To make sure you two didn’t get back together when he came home?’
‘Who knows? Everyone in Carranford felt really sorry for me, anyway.’ Hallie’s dark eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘And we were all delighted when they had to sell the house for twenty grand less than they’d paid for it.’
‘And how did you cope?’
‘What, once Nick was gone? I wasn’t brave, if that’s what you’re asking. Made a right show of myself for a while. Drank too much, cried a lot, even slept with one of Nick’s friends, just to punish him. Except it didn’t help and I still felt like a bit of old rubbish.’ Reaching for her coffee and shrugging, Hallie said, ‘So I decided life would be easier if I didn’t get involved with anyone else. Basically, it wasn’t worth the hassle. I’d be better off staying single.’
Luke frowned slightly. ‘And you still think that?’
‘It’s not so difficult. I’m hardly the catch of the year.’ Hallie shook her head dismissively; it was time to change the subject. ‘Go on then, enough about me. Your turn now. Why aren’t you settled down?’
He looked amused. ‘I’m busy. I put in a lot of hours.’
‘Is that why you and Christina broke up?’ Wow, listen to me, asking the question I’ve wanted to know the answer to for months. But here in Luke’s cottage, at this time of night, it somehow seemed OK. Belatedly Hallie added, ‘You don’t have to say if you don’t want to. I’m just nosy.’
Because he was looking a bit embarrassed now. God, how awful if there’d been some humiliating sexual reason for the break-up.
‘It’s fine. There’s no big secret. We got together because we liked each other and everyone told us what a great couple we made. And life was easy and we never argued, and it was all just fine.’ Luke shrugged. ‘But it needs to be more than fine, doesn’t it? It wasn’t the . . . you know, the love affair of the century. We weren’t Romeo and Juliet.’
‘It just wasn’t enough,’ said Hallie.
‘Pretty much.’ He paused. ‘And then there were the snakes.’
‘You what?’
‘Well, quite.’ Luke smiled briefly at the expression on her face. ‘She kept them as pets. A Burmese python, a royal python and two corn snakes. The spare room was full of vivariums. And Christina loved them. Probably far more than she loved me.’ His tone was wry. ‘Basically, it was hard to relax in that house. I’m not terrified of snakes, but I was never going to like them. Never understood the appeal.’
‘And it was one more reason why you split up.’
‘Let’s say it didn’t help. After we’d been seeing each other for a year, she suggested we move in together, and I realised then that my first thought was No. Well, it was Oh God, not with those bloody snakes. But if I’d loved her enough, I could have coped with them. After that, we both kind of realised it was never going to work out. She’s still living in Cheltenham,’ said Luke. ‘With Audrey and Daniel and Artemis and Trevor.’
‘Those were their names?’
‘Yes.’
‘Blimey. And none of us ever knew about them,’ Hallie marvelled. ‘It just goes to show, you never can tell what’s happening behind other people’s closed doors.’
‘In Christina’s case, she’s usually feeding dead mice and rats to her pythons. Not the loveliest sight in the world. You’re looking tired,’ said Luke. ‘Time to take your meds. And I’ve made an executive decision,’ he added. ‘I’m not letting you go home. You’re staying here.’
Hallie nodded. He was right: the virus was wiping her out. Despite having slept for hours this afternoon, she was now exhausted and ready to crash out again. She needed to do her IVs and use the NIV if she wanted to avoid CO2 build-up and the inevitable banging headache tomorrow morning. Oh, the endless joys of being ill.
‘I feel bad, leaving you with the washing-up. If you can bear to let it sit in the sink, I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘Don’t even think about it. You just concentrate on getting better. Look, I’m going to leave you in peace now. Bathroom’s through there. You’ve got everything else you need here in this room. And you have your mobile,’ said Luke. ‘Any problems at all, just shout. If you can’t shout, call.’ He picked up his own phone, rose to his feet and headed for the kitchen.
The rear view was great; in jeans, you could see what a nice bum he had. ‘Thanks so much for this,’ said Hallie.
He halted in the doorway and turned to look at her. ‘Will you stop thanking me? There’s no need.’ Another pause. ‘And can I say something else?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Not all men are like Nick. They don’t all run away. Plenty of people with CF have normal, happy relationships.’
He was so kind, so compassionate. Hallie’s chest gave a secret squeeze of emotion; imagine if Luke weren’t her doctor and liked her as much as she liked him. He would, she instinctively knew, be one of the good guys, the trustworthy kind who would never break your heart and run away.
But how many men could you ever really trust? Even if you were fit and healthy? Not many. Add in the fact that she did have a life-limiting illness and the odds of actually being able to find someone were just about infinitesimal. Falling in love and being abandoned – again – held no appeal whatsoever. Maybe if you were expecting to live for another sixty years, the prospect of being miserable and heartbroken for a few months was bearable.
The thing was, if a few months was possibly all the time you had left here on this earth . . . well. It wasn’t high on her list of must-have experiences.
Basically, who’d want to be utterly miserable for the rest of their life?
Hallie looked at Luke and allowed herself a brief fantasy. What would he do if she were to beckon him over now, wrap her arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to meet hers? What would he say if she whispered, ‘Will you carry me upstairs? Can we sleep together? If I promise never to tell anyone, could we do that? Just for tonight?’
OK, get a grip. End of fantasy.
Apart from anything else, what if he backed away in horror, holding up his hands and saying, ‘You’re kidding, right?’
God, being rejected in a fantasy was the absolute pits.
Hallie braced herself and nodded. ‘I know they do. Ignore me, it’s just the way I feel. I’m a complete wimp.’
Luke regarded her steadily for several seconds before shaking his head. ‘No, not true. You’re anything but that.’ He reached for the door handle. ‘Night.’
In the kitchen, doing the mountain of washing-up, Luke heard Hallie moving around in the living room. She would be getting ready for bed, doing her meds, setting up the portable ventilator and settling down for the night. Luckily the old sofa was big and comfortable enough to stretch out on; he would have offered her his own bed like a shot, but since the
bathroom was downstairs, it made sense for her to stay down here too.
This evening had been simultaneously one of the best and most frustrating of his life. Somehow he’d even managed to end up telling Hallie she shouldn’t give up on love, and encouraging her to search for someone special who could make her happy.
Someone else special, obviously. Not him. Even though just the thought of Hallie with another man made his chest tighten with envy.
Luke picked up the wine glass she’d drunk out of and tipped the last dregs down the sink. And if she did find someone, he would have to pretend to be happy for her . . .
God, I must be some kind of masochist.
Chapter 17
When you make the discovery that someone you like has never seen your all-time favourite film, there’s only one thing to do. And that is to force them to sit down with you and watch it.
‘Are you serious? How can you never have seen The Shawshank Redemption? It’s a classic!’
‘Man gets life in prison for a murder he didn’t commit. I don’t know.’ Luke shrugged. ‘I suppose it just didn’t sound that cheery.’
‘But it’s so amazing. Tim Robbins is brilliant. Morgan Freeman’s brilliant too. Come on.’ Hallie pointed to the other end of the sofa. ‘I’ve downloaded it now. You’re going to love it, I promise.’
And really, was there any better way to spend a Saturday evening? She was feeling better today, still under the weather, but fully rested and not nearly as grim and feverish as yesterday. She had texted her mum and told her she was having a wonderful time being pushed along the Champs-Élysées in her wheelchair. In reality, Luke had made pancakes for lunch and this evening they were going to be ordering a pizza delivery from the new Italian restaurant in Stow-on-the-Wold.
Outside, it was dark and icy cold. Inside, the cottage was toasty warm and comfortable, a bright fire crackling in the grate and the scent of lemons from the pancakes still lingering in the air. As they watched the film together, Hallie kept a covert eye on Luke. It was truly one of life’s pleasures, introducing someone to something you knew they were going to love.