by Jill Mansell
‘It’s true! Have ya never seen a wallaby on a tightrope?’ Dropping the accent, he stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. ‘How are you? Surprised to see me?’
‘Just a bit. And you want to watch it; I’m an invalid, you know. I could drop dead from this kind of shock.’
‘Sorry, I wanted to see the look on your face. Oh Hal . . .’ Ushering her inside, out of the cold, he touched her cheek and stroked an index finger along the line of her jaw. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
‘Well I’m still here. Just about. Come on, I need my oxygen.’ Hallie led the way into the living room and plugged herself back in. ‘What are you doing back in the UK?’
It was six years since they’d broken up, two years since she’d last seen him.
‘Flying visit to the parents. Dad’s had a gall bladder op and Mum wanted me to come back for a few days. But I flew into Birmingham so I thought I’d swing by and see you before shooting on up to Manchester.’
‘It’s out of your way.’ He was going to have to double back to Birmingham before heading home.
‘Hey, I’ve hired a fast car. And once you’ve lived in Australia, you get used to long journeys. Anything less than a six-hour drive is nothing at all . . . Jesus, what is that thing out there?’
He was pointing at something through the window. By the time Hallie realised she’d succumbed to the oldest trick in the book, the bacon sandwich was in his hand.
‘I can’t believe you fell for it.’ Nick shook his head pityingly.
‘Me neither.’ Distraction followed by food theft had always been a game they’d played. ‘I’m out of practice.’
‘Here.’ He offered her the sandwich back. ‘To be honest, if you were about to eat this, I’m amazed you even came to the door.’
‘I nearly didn’t. It’s OK, you can have a bite. Seeing as you’ve come all the way from Australia.’
Nick shook his head. ‘You have first bite. It’s your sandwich.’
‘Correct answer.’ Hallie bit into it with relish whilst Nick watched her with a smile on his face. And maybe the bacon was no longer as hot as it might have been, but it was still delicious.
When it was time for Nick to eat his share, she sat and watched him in turn. His lean, rangy limbs were the same, his blond hair as messy as it had always been. He’d just flown from the other side of the world, but you wouldn’t know it; in his white T-shirt, soft grey sweater and battered old jeans he looked just as he always had. Only the smell of him was different.
Aware of her gaze, Nick said, ‘What?’
‘You’ve changed your aftershave.’
‘This?’ He sniffed his wrist and pulled a face. ‘I tried it in duty-free. Makes me smell like a used car salesman. Seems like it’s got stronger since I put it on.’
‘That’s what happens. The more you don’t like it, the stronger it smells.’ Hallie smiled. ‘But you look just the same.’
‘So do you.’ Having finished off the sandwich, he put down the empty plate and gave her hand a squeeze.
‘Thanks.’ Touched, Hallie added, ‘But we both know that’s not true.’
‘OK, maybe not, but when I look at you, I just see . . . you.’ He reached up and lightly touched her nose. ‘I see your freckles, the shape of your cheeks, the way your eyelashes curl at the corners, the way your mouth moves when you smile. And as for your eyes . . . they’re never going to change. You still have the best eyes I’ve ever seen.’
‘If this is your way of telling me you’d like another bacon sandwich,’ said Hallie, ‘you’re going to have to make it yourself.’
‘That’s not why I said those things.’ He winked at her. ‘But now you come to mention it . . .’
In the kitchen, she sat at the table while Nick made them both mugs of tea and fried up the rest of the bacon. He told her stories about his adventures in Australia. She told him less exciting ones about her life in Carranford. Nick called home and told his parents he’d be with them by nine o’clock.
At two thirty, Hallie said, ‘It’s time for me to do my meds and physio.’
‘No problem.’ He sniffed his wrist and the sleeve of his sweater again. ‘Actually, can I ask a favour? Would it be OK if I had a shower while I’m here? Clean myself up a bit and get rid of this bloody awful aftershave?’
‘No problem. You know where the bathroom is,’ said Hallie. ‘Help yourself.’
Nick went out to the car, collected his wash bag and a change of clothes from his suitcase and disappeared upstairs while Hallie set out her meds. She also made the discovery that once an idea had worked its way into your brain, it was next to impossible to think about anything else.
It was like being haunted by the catchiest tune ever.
OK, stop thinking about it.
But I just caaaaan’t.
It was, she knew, partly to do with the last letter she’d replied to on the website. Poor rejected Julia, abandoned by her husband and in need of closure.
And sex.
And revenge.
But mainly closure.
And sex.
Hallie got on with doing her meds, but the idea was still refusing to go away. Who knew how long she had left to live? Not long, the way things were going and if time ran out before a suitable donor could be found.
For the last year, the only man she could have imagined sleeping with was the one man she couldn’t have a relationship with. Basically she’d kind of assumed that, given her situation, that was it on the sex front. There wouldn’t be any more. The window of opportunity had passed her by without her even realising that the last time had indeed been the last time.
Sad, but it couldn’t be helped.
Except, except . . . what if the window of opportunity had just unexpectedly opened again?
Upstairs, the shower was still running. A handsome man was currently standing under it naked, shampoo and soap suds sliding down his beautiful tanned body.
Better still, it was a body she already knew and was familiar with, belonging to a good friend who in turn was familiar with hers.
Chapter 23
It took Hallie another hour to pluck up the courage to say it. In the end, she just blurted the words out.
‘I have a favour to ask you. It’s OK, you can say no if you want. I won’t be offended.’
‘Anything.’ Nick didn’t hesitate. ‘What is it? Do you need money?’
‘No, it’s more personal than that. This is to do with me . . .’ she gestured helplessly, ‘and my . . . situation.’
Nick seized her hand and gazed into her eyes. ‘Go ahead. Don’t look so nervous.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Is it to do with your funeral? Do you want me to stand up and speak? Because that’s fine, of course I’ll do it—’
‘Whoa, stop, that’s not what I wanted to ask you. Sshh.’ Hallie put her other hand up to his mouth as he opened it to hazard another guess. ‘Stop interrupting and listen. You’re leaving at six. My mum’s out at work and won’t be back before six thirty. We’re home alone. There’s no one else I could ask to do this, but there’s something I just miss so much. Do you remember how we used to lie in bed together, skin to skin . . . don’t worry, I’m not talking about sex now, just the being together thing, because, you know, it would feel so nice . . . and it’d make me feel normal again, just for a bit . . . but it’s OK, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.’
Halfway through the garbled explanation, her eyes had begun to fill up and tears were sliding down her face. Hallie, who hardly ever cried, brushed them away and knew that it was due to embarrassment. That was why she’d changed the request to just lying in bed together. Begging for sex, it turned out, was just too much to ask. Poor Nick, was he frantically trying to come up with some kind of reasonable excuse for not having to do it?
Then she saw that his eyes were glistening too. The next moment, he was on his feet, reaching out for her, unplugging her oxygen and lifting her into his strong arms. ‘You have all the best i
deas,’ he said simply. ‘Come on. There’s nothing I’d like more.’
Upstairs, he laid her down on the bed and closed the curtains. Hallie reconnected herself to her bedroom oxygen supply and slowly undressed down to her knickers. Nick helped her, then removed his own clothes, keeping on only his Calvin Klein trunks.
Then he climbed into bed beside her, pulled the duvet over them both and, mindful of the plastic tubing, wrapped his arms around her.
Hallie felt as if she were on fire; her whole body had become hypersensitive now. The sensation of his warm skin touching hers was just indescribably wonderful. This, this was what she’d been missing out on for so long. Simple, honest-to-goodness physical contact, taken completely for granted by so many people, yet almost more perfect in its own way than anything else.
She traced her fingertips over his back, his shoulders, his arms, and felt Nick’s hands doing the same. It was heavenly. This was how happiness felt. A never-ending embrace, the scent of freshly soaped skin, the heat emanating from his body and warming hers, like the sun . . .
Nick’s mouth brushed against her ear as he murmured, ‘Is this the kind of thing you meant?’
‘Exactly the kind of thing I meant. Thank you.’
‘Hallie, listen, don’t thank me. But there’s something I need to tell you.’
Her hands were still hypnotically stroking his chest. ‘Go on.’
‘I don’t know if you wanted to carry on further, but I just have to say, I have a girlfriend.’
Hallie blinked. ‘Oh. Right. You didn’t mention her before.’ And she stupidly hadn’t asked.
‘I know. I didn’t want to sound . . . well, you know, as if I was boasting about my great life while yours isn’t so great. Her name’s Emma and we’ve been seeing each other for the last couple of months. She’s a lovely girl. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been faithful to her and I wouldn’t want to upset her, but if you want us to continue . . . well, I will.’
‘You would? You’d do that for me?’
Nick exhaled. ‘Oh Hallie. It’s not like I wouldn’t enjoy it too. But it’s your choice.’
She smiled and brushed his cheek, touched by the offer and by his honesty. ‘Thanks, but it’s fine, really. Just this is fine. And it wouldn’t feel right, making you do that to Emma.’
To her surprise, it was the truth. At the back of her mind, too, she’d kind of wondered if sleeping with Nick might feel like cheating on Luke.
Yes, it was a weird thing to think, but she couldn’t help the way her brain worked.
‘You know, Emma’s such a nice person, she might even understand,’ said Nick. ‘I’ve told her all about you. She knew I was coming to see you today.’
‘I think that would be a really big ask. Don’t worry. This is enough.’ In all honesty, poor Emma-in-Australia probably wouldn’t be thrilled about the fact that they were lying practically naked together in bed.
‘OK. We can just stay here like this.’ Sliding his arm around her, Nick said, ‘Rest your head on my shoulder. Just relax. I’m not going to let you go. Remember this is how we used to fall asleep?’
Smiling, Hallie nodded. Now that she knew nothing more was going to happen, she was actually far more relaxed. This was nice, this was what she’d missed, the sheer comfort of physical contact. She closed her eyes and nodded again, feeling Nick’s hands gently stroking her shoulders and the back of her neck as she drifted off to sleep . . .
Luke knocked on Hallie’s front door. It was five o’clock and dark outside, and the house seemed silent too. There was no sign of movement. Had she gone out? Maybe he should just slide the book through the letter box . . .
Above him, curtains were pulled back, and silhouetted against the dim light in Hallie’s bedroom he saw a figure that . . . well, it wasn’t Hallie. Taken aback, Luke saw that it was male. More to the point, it wasn’t wearing many clothes. OK, he certainly hadn’t been expecting this.
The figure indicated that he was coming down. There was the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, then the door was pulled open and Luke saw that he’d at least bothered to fling on a T-shirt and jeans. His hair was tousled – he’d evidently been asleep – and his face was distantly familiar.
‘Hi.’ His expression was questioning, his tanned feet bare.
Luke swallowed. ‘Hello. Is Hallie here?’
‘She’s upstairs. Asleep. Do you want me to wake her?’
Luke hesitated, then shook his head. ‘It’s OK, don’t worry. I just dropped by to return this.’ He held up the paperback with the pale blue cover. ‘Hallie lent it to me last week.’
‘Right. Well, no problem, you can leave it here. I’ll make sure she gets it.’
‘Fine. Tell her I thought it was excellent. Really informative.’
Hallie’s visitor took the paperback and looked at the cover, which featured sand running through a glass egg-timer. The title of the book was Smile Through It: A year on the transplant list.
‘Can I ask?’ said Luke. ‘Are you Nick?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘From Australia?’
‘I came back.’ Nick was clearly wondering if he should recognise him. ‘Have we met before?’
Luke shook his head. ‘No. Hallie showed me a photo of you, that’s all. I’m Dr Hilton, her GP.’
‘Oh right, I get it now. Hallie’s told me about you.’ Breaking into a grin, Nick said, ‘You’re the nice one. As opposed to the bossy, scary one.’
‘Hopefully,’ said Luke.
‘So it’s a good book, is it?’ Nick scanned the back cover; it had been written by a young cystic fibrosis sufferer waiting for a double lung transplant. ‘Does it have a happy ending?’
‘Yes.’ Luke nodded. ‘It does.’
It also mentioned on the back cover that a thousand people a year died waiting for their transplant. And the author of the book – his name was Oli Lewington – had only been twenty-three when he’d received his new lungs. Hallie was twenty-eight now.
Nick said, ‘She’s getting worse, isn’t she?’
Luke hesitated. ‘It happens, unfortunately.’ Their eyes met. ‘You know that.’
Of course he did; they both knew. Nick hesitated, then said, ‘So, what are the odds on Hallie getting her transplant?’
Luke shook his head. ‘You never can tell. It could happen at any time. The more people who sign the organ donor register, the better the chances.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you on the register?’
Nick gave him a look tinged with disbelief. ‘I’ve known Hallie for years. Of course I’ve signed the register. I tell everyone to do it.’
‘Good. Well, I’ll be off. It was nice to meet you.’ It hadn’t been, of course, but sometimes you just had to say these things. ‘How long are you back for?’ he added, and held his breath.
‘Just a flying visit. I’m heading up to see my family this evening. Thought I’d call in on Hallie on my way.’
Telling himself he had no business feeling jealous, Luke nodded. ‘Well, bye.’
But inwardly he was thinking: Just a flying visit. Good.
It had been lovely to have Nick come and visit her, but how were you meant to say goodbye to someone you might never see again?
The same way as if it hadn’t crossed your mind for one moment that this could be a possibility.
Well, on the outside at least.
In the living room, Hallie hugged Nick, breathed in the scent of his skin and gave him a kiss on each cheek. Followed by one on the mouth, but a mwah kiss, not a romantic one.
‘Bye. Thanks for coming to see me.’ She pulled back just far enough to be able to look at him without going cross-eyed. ‘And thanks for everything else too. Above and beyond the call of duty.’
‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’ He smiled. ‘You take care.’
‘I hope everything works out for you and Emma. She sounds great.’
‘She is.’
‘But just to be on the safe side, don’t
tell her about the nearly naked thing this afternoon. Easier all round if she doesn’t know.’
‘Whatever you say.’ Nick stroked the side of her face. ‘But I’ll never forget it.’
‘Nor me. OK, your mum and dad are waiting for you and you have a long drive ahead. Be careful on the motorway.’ Releasing him and stepping back, Hallie kissed her fingers then pressed them against his warm mouth, deliberately refusing to think that this could be the last time she’d do it. ‘Off you go.’
Chapter 24
‘Go on,’ said Rory, ‘admit it. You didn’t completely believe me.’
Tasha grinned. ‘Of course I didn’t believe you.’
‘See? You should have more faith in your boyfriend. I always keep my promises.’
‘To be fair, it didn’t help when Joe kept dropping all those hints about hang-gliding.’
‘Ah well, that’s Joe. You never want to believe a word he says.’
Tasha prodded him playfully with the stick in her hand. ‘Unless you’re saving it until last.’
But he wasn’t, she knew that. It was Sunday afternoon, the first week of March, and it had been a dream weekend. Better still, it had all been Rory’s idea. She’d thought they were spending the weekend in London, but on Friday afternoon he’d told her to pack a small case. Then he’d brought her down to this stunning country house hotel on the outskirts of Bath. Their room had incredible views over the hotel grounds and the wooded hills beyond. It also had a velvet-canopied four-poster bed.
Completely overcome by the gesture, Tasha had gazed around the room. ‘Why have you done this?’
And Rory had replied with an easy shrug, ‘Because you deserve it. It’s your turn.’
‘Really? Oh my God . . .’ OK, this was the kind of talk that could make you seriously fall in love with someone.
‘No potholing, no rugby, no wild swimming, no waterskiing, no motorbikes. This is your weekend. We’re just going to relax and do whatever you want to do.’
She’d searched his face, the face that had only just recovered from being battered by part of the Avon Gorge. ‘Won’t you be horribly bored?’