He nodded. ‘Definitely. Kill or cure.’
She felt herself smile. Why did the sight of him on her battered sofa in her cramped lounge look so right? Her hormones were playing up again, evidently. She took a glug of wine and instantly felt better.
Marlon had wolfed down his dinner and was now sitting next to Scott, looking longingly at his chips.
Evie handed Scott his wine and then frowned at Marlon. ‘You know better than that. No hounding guests for food. You’ve had your dinner. Let Scott eat his.’
Marlon looked affronted, as if to say, ‘What? I’m just sitting here.’
Evie sat down next to Scott and tucked into her chips. They were hot and salty, melting in her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut in appreciation.
‘Can I ask a question …?’ Scott’s voice trailed off. When she opened her eyes he was gazing at her mouth. He visibly swallowed. ‘Good, huh?’
She nodded. ‘Very good. What’s the question?’
He shook his head as if ridding himself of an image. ‘What happened to make you so wary of men?’
It was a perfectly reasonable question. She took another healthy mouthful of wine before answering. ‘What makes you think I’m wary?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you serious?’
She found herself laughing. ‘Is it that obvious?’
His expression softened. ‘Someone’s done a number on you, that much is clear. Tell me to mind my own business if you’d rather not talk about it.’
Her laughter faded. She had two options. Fob him off with a lame excuse, or tell the truth. Maybe it would be good to get a male perspective on the whole Kyle situation. What did she have to lose? ‘A relationship I was in turned … ugly.’
Scott paused, mid-chip, waiting a beat. ‘Go on.’
So she did. She told him about her relationship with Kyle, his behaviour, his cheating and why she’d moved to Kent over a year ago. ‘I know it sounds drastic, but I honestly believe if I’d stayed he wouldn’t have stopped trying for a reconciliation. I needed to do something that would convince him it was over.’ She ate another chip, needing the carbs. ‘I hadn’t heard from him in months, so I figured it’d worked. But then he sent me a friend request on Facebook. It was the day you turned up to fix the boiler.’
Scott flinched. ‘No wonder my pathetic attempts to charm fell flat.’ He adjusted his position on the sofa. The movement caused the plate to slide off his lap, but he caught it before it landed on the floor, much to Marlon’s dismay. ‘Sorry, mate, you’ll need to be quicker than that.’
Evie couldn’t help laughing at her dog’s disgruntled expression.
Scott gave her a rueful smile. ‘I’m surprised you booked me to come back.’
Evie nodded. ‘I’m surprised I did too. But good plumbers are hard to find.’
Smirking, he ate another chip. ‘Cheap plumbers, you mean.’
Evie smiled. It occurred to her that talking about her relationship with Kyle no longer felt so painful. Hopefully she’d turned another corner. ‘Anyway, it’s been a couple of months now and I haven’t heard from him, so I’m hoping that’s the end of it.’
His expression turned serious. ‘I hope so too. No one deserves to be treated like that. The man’s an idiot.’
Evie couldn’t agree more.
Marlon decided he’d been patient enough and placed his paw on Scott’s knee.
Evie wagged a finger at him. ‘No, Marlon. Bad dog. Remember your manners.’
Scott rubbed his forehead. ‘Don’t mind him, he’s fine.’
Evie frowned. ‘Would you like some ice?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, I prefer my wine neat.’
She laughed. ‘I meant for your head.’
He grinned. ‘Oh, right. No, thanks.’ He took another mouthful. ‘I’d better slow down, I’m driving. Great anaesthetic, though.’ He balanced his wine on the coffee table.
Evie placed her glass next to his. ‘It is nice, isn’t it? I don’t know much about wine, but Diana sent me a crate of the stuff for Christmas.’
‘Diana?’
Evie resumed eating her chips. ‘The current owner of the florist’s.’
‘Oh, right.’ He slid Marlon another chip. ‘How’re the plans coming along to buy the place?’
‘Not great. I’m still waiting on the final valuation.’ Evie pretended not to notice Scott feeding her dog. ‘I’ve been researching funding options, but without much success.’ She reached over for the letter lying on the coffee table. ‘I received this yesterday. You can read it if you want.’
He stared at the letter and then shook his head. ‘Nah, you’re all right.’
And there she was thinking they were bonding.
‘Can you read it to me?’ He held up his hands. ‘Greasy fingers.’
‘Oh, right.’ She’d been too quick to judge. ‘It’s not that interesting. It’s just from the bank responding to my request for a loan.’
‘I’m guessing it’s not good news?’
‘Nope. Turned down flat.’ She reached for her wine. ‘It’s so frustrating. I don’t want to focus on my past any more. I want to be in control of my own destiny, move on with my life, live for the moment. But it feels like it’s always one step forward, two steps back. Do you know what I mean?’
His expression turned glum. ‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’
‘Sorry, I’m being rude, talking about my problems. How are things with your mum?’ She scrunched up her chip paper and moved her plate onto the coffee table.
‘Not great. She needs more help than I can give her or afford. Her health is deteriorating and there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘But you do loads for her.’ When he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, she added, ‘Ben and Oshma told me. You’re an amazing son.’
He winced. ‘I don’t feel amazing. Mainly I just feel guilty. I do it because it’s the right thing to do. I love them both and they need me. And don’t get me wrong, I’d never walk away. But is it what I’d choose? I’d be lying if I said it was.’ He picked up a chip and then dropped it, his dinner no longer appealing.
‘It isn’t what anyone would choose.’ Evie found Marlon’s toy on the floor and dangled it in front of him to distract him from Scott’s chips. ‘Who’s looking after Billie tonight?’
‘Ben. The truth is, I resent having had to give up my life to care for my mum and nephew. There, I said it. I’m a crap person.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re human. Those feelings are natural.’
‘I still don’t like them.’
When Marlon’s tail knocked against the coffee table, Scott moved the wine glasses. ‘Like you said, I want to feel in control, and I’m not. I hate it. And I hate that I hate it.’ He frowned, as if confused by his own words. He stacked his plate on top of Evie’s and took another sip of wine.
Evie lifted the toy higher, a game that was usually much to Marlon’s delight. But he didn’t seem in the mood tonight. ‘So tell me about the life you had to give up. What was so great about it?’ When Scott raised an eyebrow, she gestured for him to continue. ‘Come on, I’ve shared, now it’s your turn. How was your life better before?’
His head flopped against the sofa, one hand petting Marlon, who’d decided playtime was over and was now resting his head on Scott’s knee. ‘I owned my own place in London. I had a great job earning good money. I was engaged to the woman of my dreams.’
Evie felt a nagging pull in her chest. ‘Oh.’
‘Exactly.’
Evie threw the toy across the room. ‘What happened?’
‘She broke off the engagement.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘Not immediately. At first she was supportive, encouraging me to look after Mum. But once she realised things weren’t getting any better and she faced a future living with a broke carer and his teenage nephew, she gave me an ultimatum. Them or her.’
Evie adjusted the cushion behind her. ‘That’s harsh.’
‘But understandable.’
Evie
wasn’t sure she agreed.
‘I couldn’t turn my back on Mum and Ben. So I gave her the house and moved to Kent.’
Marlon jumped onto the sofa, one paw landing between Scott’s legs. Talk about embarrassing. Evie pointed to the floor. ‘Get down!’
‘He’s all right.’ Scott shifted to give the dog room, moving closer to Evie. ‘He’s had a tough night too.’
Evie watched him pet her dog, sending Marlon into doggy heaven. ‘Softie,’ she said.
Scott grinned. ‘Who? Me or the dog?’
Evie laughed. ‘Both.’
Scott turned to look at her, a smile playing on his lips. ‘I told you before, men just want to be loved.’
Something happened in that moment. Like a switch being flicked. Evie felt her breath hitch, unable to drag her gaze away from his. His smile faded, replaced by a look of wanting. She recognised the look. It was her own expression, mirrored in his eyes. She’d normally be backing off at this point. But her defences were weakened by spent adrenaline, too much wine and a craving for human contact.
So, despite everything, her past experience, her trepidation, she didn’t resist when his lips touched hers. It was like receiving a static shock. Alarming at first, followed by a shimmer of amphetamine-charged butterflies coursing through her body, ending with surrender, her body overruling any instructions her brain might be trying to assert.
His caress was warm and gentle; as though soaking in a hot bath, her muscles relaxed, sinking into submission. As his kiss deepened, the heat became an itch, clawing at her insides, creating the urge to consume. When his hand slid into her hair, pulling her against him, all resistance burst in a cloud of dust, leaving only a sense of weightlessness as her body, not her mind, called the shots.
A sense of melting enveloped her, at odds with the growing urgency of their tongues, their hands, their movements, each gesture seamless, effortless, bone-meltingly delicious. No awkward bumping, no miscommunication. It’d never been this easy. It’d never been this intoxicating. It’d never been this …
And then his phone rang.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Saturday, 17 May, 12.15 a.m.
The hospital was eerily quiet. A solitary receptionist sat behind a large desk, guiding people to the relevant departments. The bookshop and café were closed. The pharmacy and X-ray department were empty. The television in the patients’ lounge played to no one.
Scott’s footsteps echoed as he made his way down the long, empty corridor, following the signs for the acute medical wards. As he passed the chapel, he briefly wondered if he’d be visiting there later. Truth was, he wasn’t sure what he was about to discover. Since answering Ben’s call everything had descended into a fog of confusion. Billie had suffered another stroke. That was the extent of his knowledge. Ben had been too distraught to provide any meaningful information over the phone. All Scott knew was that it was bad. Reacting to the news on instinct, his body had gone into autopilot, fleeing from Evie’s place in a flurry of inadequate explanation, shouting ‘I have to go!’ as he ran out the door. Christ knows what she must be thinking. He couldn’t worry about that now.
He’d left his van stranded at an angle in the hospital car park and sprinted into A&E. But now he was nearing his destination, urgency gave way to trepidation, his body still moving at speed, his brain tugging on the reins, not wanting to hear the news he feared awaited him.
The nagging sense of guilt didn’t help either. Whilst he’d been fooling around with Evie, losing himself in physical pleasures, freeing his mind from worry, stress and concern, his teenage nephew had been dealing with the aftermath of Billie’s stroke. He hadn’t been able to gauge much from Ben’s tearful phone call, but the words ‘I couldn’t resuscitate her’ would probably haunt Scott for the rest of his days. Why hadn’t he been there?
As he reached the ward, he didn’t need to be told which cubicle housed his mum. He could hear Ben wailing – that was the only word to describe the noise coming from behind the white curtains. Even before a nurse opened the curtain for him to walk through, he knew the outcome. His mum had died.
Despite knowing this, it didn’t ease the shock of seeing Ben collapsed on top of her, Amy rubbing his back, tears streaming down her face. After Billie’s first stroke Scott had arrived at the hospital to find her hooked up to all sorts of gadgets, an oxygen mask covering her face. Not this time. Somehow the lack of any intervention was worse. A pale blue blanket was tucked neatly under her arms, her face lacked its normal left-sided droop and her hair was smoothed behind her ears.
Scott had no idea how long he stood there. It could have been a minute or an hour. If anyone spoke, he didn’t know. Whether he answered, he couldn’t tell. A vice-like grip had closed around his chest, disabling his ability to move or react. Images floated in front of him, surreal and disturbing: Ben crying, Amy’s reassuring words of comfort, a vague awareness of a man talking to him, the smell of antiseptic. Through it all he felt disconnected.
Someone touched his arm. The nurse, her expression sympathetic, gestured to the man next to her. ‘Dr Hubble would like to know if you have any questions.’
Questions?
Scott looked at the doctor. He didn’t look much older than he was. He could see the nervous beads of sweat dampening the man’s brow, making Scott think he hadn’t been a doctor long enough to be comfortable dealing with grieving families demanding to know why their loved one couldn’t be saved.
Forcing his brain to engage, Scott simply asked, ‘Did she suffer?’
Dr Hubble shook his head. ‘Not at all. Death would’ve been instantaneous.’ He flinched as though he’d meant to use a different word. ‘Your mother suffered a significant bleed to the brain. Nothing could’ve been done to save her.’
Maybe not, but her son could have been there with her, supporting her, helping Ben, couldn’t he?
‘I’m so very sorry for your loss.’ Dr Hubble lowered his head. ‘Please take all the time you need. We’ll give you and your family some privacy.’
The doctor and nurse left the cubicle. Scott knew he needed to take control. The shock might have rendered him numb, but his nephew needed him to be an adult and step up to the plate. The poor kid had suffered enough. He cleared his throat, which felt like it’d shrunk to the size of a straw. He joined Ben by the bed, torn between letting the kid cry it out and suggesting they leave.
Thankfully, Amy came to the rescue. ‘Come on, Ben. Time to say goodbye.’ She stroked his hair, her voice gentle yet assured. With one last heaving sob Ben allowed her to ease him off the bed. ‘Bye, Nan. I love you.’
The pressure in Scott’s chest tightened. He became aware of a shake in his hands, shortness of breath, a tingling sensation creeping up his arms. Breathe, he told himself. He’d be no use to Ben if he passed out.
Amy led Ben away from the bed. ‘We’ll meet you outside. I’ll get him some water.’ The composure in her voice was at odds with the distress on her face. She held onto Ben, almost carrying him as he sagged against her, still sobbing.
Scott nodded, briefly squeezing Ben’s shoulder. ‘I won’t be long.’ He needed to say his goodbyes too. And it was something he had no idea how to do. How were you supposed to say goodbye to your mum?
Summoning what little strength he had, Scott approached the bed. He touched Billie’s face, surprised to find her warm. He wasn’t sure why he’d assumed she’d be cold. A wave of something welled up. In a way, he’d been grieving the loss of his mum for two years.
A sudden image of them at the beach fluttered through his mind. It hadn’t been a hot day, but he and Lisa had built sandcastles, eaten jam sandwiches and been treated to ice cream from the van. They’d chased waves, each daring the other to leave it later and later before running to safety. He’d mistimed his last run and fallen flat on his face. A wave washed over him, soaking his clothes. He’d expected his mum to be cross, but she’d laughed so hard she’d fallen over too and they’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the lau
nderette. Not many kids had a mum with a sense of humour. That would always be one of the many special things about Billie Castillo.
But the strong, cheerful woman who’d brought him up had been taken away the night of her first stroke. Seeing her lying here now, with her face relaxed, her expression serene and pain free, was a relief. There was no other way to describe it. And Scott had no idea how the hell to deal with that.
He kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for everything, Mum. I love you. I’ll miss you always.’ A solitary tear landed on her cheek. He brushed it away and left before he collapsed like Ben. Grieving would have to wait. His nephew needed him more.
The journey back to the flat was a sombre one, the three of them squashed into the front of his van, Ben crying against Amy as Scott tried to focus on driving.
Entering the flat was even worse. Billie’s presence was everywhere: wheelchair in front of the television, handrails attached to the doorframes, medicine bottles scattered on the sideboard. The coffee table was upturned, the sofa off centre. Scott assumed the paramedics had needed to move the furniture.
Amy led Ben over to the sofa, wrapping him in Billie’s blanket. ‘You’re shaking.’ She rubbed his back. ‘It’s the shock. I’ll make some tea.’ She kissed his head. ‘Scott?’
It took Scott a moment to realise Amy had asked him a question. ‘Sorry?’
‘Would you like some tea? You look like you could do with a strong drink.’ She pointed to the kitchen, silently gesturing for him to join her.
Once in the kitchen, she pulled the door closed, checking Ben was out of earshot. ‘He thinks it’s his fault. You have to make him see there was nothing he could’ve done.’
Scott frowned. ‘Why on earth would Ben think it’s his fault? Mum had a stroke.’
‘You and I know that, but Ben feels he should’ve done something. He tried CPR, but …’ Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head. ‘I let him keep trying until the paramedics arrived, more because he needed to do something, but I could see she was gone.’ She touched Scott’s arm. ‘Sorry if that’s painful to hear.’
The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop Page 21