Sophie's Run (21 page)

“Good idea,” Steve concurred. “Peace and quiet and no rush. We’ll sort it tomorrow.”

Dan raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“I’m getting out tomorrow,” I blabbed, almost apologetically. “Steve’s helping me settle at home. Because I’m struggling to move and bend and I’ll probably need some help and…”

Dan held up his hands, palm outwards. “It’s okay, you don’t need to explain. Steve’s filled me in on the plan.”

He had? What plan?

Steve grinned. “I did. I mean, I did tell Dan that you’ll be getting out tomorrow and that I’ll be taking you home. To your home,” he amended quickly.

I felt like I was behind some sort of glass wall, not understanding what everyone else was saying to me. “And?” I prompted uncertainly.

“And nothing,” Steve said. “Dan’s only making it sound grand.”

I noted a tone of familiarity, as though the two of them had known each other longer than ten minutes.

Steve continued talking. “It’s just that I’m taking you home. That’s it.” He took my hand as if to make a point. Dan stepped back and watched. Somehow, the moment assumed a special significance, as though a handover had taken place. Steve had stepped up, and Dan had stepped back. I could have sworn the two men exchanged a conspiratorial look.

Jodie noticed it too, because she gave me a big wink. “They’re getting on quite well, don’t you think?” she uttered in a stage whisper. “Looks like there won’t be a fight in the sandbox today.”

Dan tickled her under the chin. “Oi, don’t you go talking about your big brother like that,” he teased. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I don’t get it,” I mumbled. “I feel like I’ve missed a chapter somewhere along the line.”

Steve cleared his throat. “You have,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sort of. You see—”

“Steve and I went out for a pint that first night you were in here,” Dan elaborated. “He’d called me at home with the news that the op went well, and I think I got a bit shirty and rude on the phone, and—”

“—
and I said we should meet up,” Steve picked up the thread. “I knew about Dan, of course. I mean, come on, the whole
world
knows about Dan.”

“Hang on,” I burst out. “All the introduction palaver earlier…‘You must be Steve,’” I mimicked for emphasis. “Why didn’t you simply say you’d met?”

The men were looking sheepish.

“Well…yes…um…it’s all mildly embarrassing, really,” Steve elaborated hesitantly. “You know?”

“I don’t know,” I challenged. “Why would it be embarrassing?”

Dan decided to ignore me. “So we went to the pub,” he went on. “And we talked. Like grown men.”

“Yeah, like grown men,” Steve repeated. Now I was getting the embarrassment factor. Jodie and I exchanged a look. I stifled a laugh; Jodie busied herself rummaging in her handbag to hide her twitching mouth.

“And that’s that,” Dan concluded lamely.

Jodie spoke up. “I think what these two imbeciles are trying to say, very clumsily, is that they met up and put their proverbial cards on the table. It will have been like this.” She pulled a face and continued in a deep, wide-boy voice. “Oi, you, you know I’ve been dating this bird. I’m not dating her anymore, but I won’t have her hurt.” She pulled a different face and assumed a slightly deeper, macho voice for Steve. “Good to know. She’s my bird now. I won’t hurt her.” And back to the wide-boy voice for Dan. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

The men stood there, open-mouthed and looking abashed.

“Yup,” Jodie confirmed. “It looks like they’ve sorted out their claims. Lucky you, to have two such adorable men looking after your well-being.”

Lucky me, indeed.

Jodie came to the rescue one final time. “Sophie is absolutely exhausted,” she observed. “Come on you guys, buzz off. You can come back later.” She made a shooing hand gesture, and the men obligingly turned to leave. Steve came back for a quick peck on the cheek, and they ambled down the corridor, shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t believe this,” I muttered helplessly.

Jodie regarded me gravely. “Look, Dan cares deeply about you. But he knows you’re through. I think he’s trying to tell you that it’s okay to move on. He’s been a bit worried that perhaps…” she faltered, but went on bravely. “That perhaps you wouldn’t go after your new man for some weird reason to do with him. Men.” She rolled her eyes. “They think they’re the center of the universe, don’t they? Anyway, all this bravado, that’s for show. Really, he thinks Steve is a nice guy.”

“That’s great. That’s cool. But do you know, this matey stuff, that’s freaking me out,” I confessed.

“I’m not surprised,” Jodie smiled. “Just give it some time. Most importantly, give you and Steve some time. I’ll sort Dan out, don’t you worry. I know where you’re coming from. Give this new relationship some time to grow, and you’ll find a space for all your old friends, and new ones, too. Trust me.”

I smiled back. “Thank you, I needed a little pep talk. I feel a bit overwhelmed.” I sighed. “Why is life so complicated sometimes?”

Jodie took my hand. “It feels complicated now, but it won’t do, not over time. You know Dan, he’s Mr. Chilled-and-Easy-Going. He’ll come round, as will you. And Steve. You never know, one day Dan will be godfather to your children.”

I snorted disbelievingly. What a notion!

“Don’t diss it,” she said. “You wait and see. I have a good feeling about this. And now I must fly,” she declared abruptly. “Here, have this.” She pressed a card in my hands with a whole array of telephone numbers and email addresses. “Any time you need to talk, or if Dan gives you any trouble, give me a call.” She gave me bracing poke, then she rose to go. “I must dash, but you go, girlfriend.”

She blew me a kiss and she was gone.

I sank into my pillows, feeling as though I had been tumble-dried, all hot and crumpled and discombobulated.

“Give it time,” I whispered to myself. “Let it grow.”

Steve arrived after breakfast the following morning. While he gathered together my things into a rucksack, I had a clumsy go at getting dressed on my bed, behind drawn curtains. All done, we waited for the discharge notice to come through, which eventually happened before lunch.

“Would you like to go home, or partake of another hospital lunch?” Steve asked with a big cheeky grin.

“Home, please,” I responded simply. I wasn’t in the mood to joke about this. All I wanted was to go home, have a bath, and wash my hair.

Steve carried the rucksack while I hobbled to the lifts. As the consultant had instructed, I had been shuffling up and down the ward several times a day, every day, and I could move reasonably well, albeit very slowly, and not for long. But I managed it to the lifts, and through the lobby, and out to a waiting taxi. Steve dumped the rucksack in the back and opened the passenger door for me, holding it wide while the driver looked on. I stood uncertainly, not sure how to get in.

Seeing my hesitation, nurse-Steve surfaced again. “Sit down with your bottom sideways on the seat…ever so gently,” he instructed and commented on my progress as I followed his advice. “Right, that’s good. Now lift your feet in…carefully, right, good. Now turn on the seat…turn your bottom…well done. And lean back, slowly. Right. There, well done.”

He gave me a big smile as he pulled the safety belt down and across.

“Here, strap yourself in, but go easy, now,” he instructed, pushing the clasp in my hand. Then he installed himself the back seat, looking at me expectantly. “Ready?”

“Ready,” I acknowledged.

Outside the flat, Steve and I stood together uncertainly for a moment. How weird that Steve had never been here before, even though we had talked about our lives as though we had always known each other. How weird that he could confidently take the key off me, unlock the front door, and lead the way into my home, carrying my belongings in his rucksack.

“You go and sit down in the lounge,” Steve instructed me sternly, adopting his best staff nurse voice. “I’ll make a cup of tea.”

“I don’t want a cup of tea,” I protested. “I really, really want a bath. I feel so dirty and full of hospital grime.”

“Oh, all right, if the lady wants a bath, the lady shall have a bath,” Steve relented. “But please will you have a sit down while I run it?” So I sat down on the sofa, gingerly, while Steve ran me a bath in my bathroom in my flat.

While I reveled in the bubbles, Steve prepared a little lunch, a few sandwiches and nibbles, which he thoughtfully laid out, buffet style, on the coffee table in the lounge. He also equipped the sofa with my pillows and duvet, and pulled the telly round so I could see it better.

“Your recovery suite is equipped and prepared,” he joked as he made me lie down on the sofa.

“It’s the middle of July,” I protested. “I can’t lie around in the lounge with my duvet as though it was the middle of winter.”

“You can, and you shall,” Steve informed me dryly, then switched the telly on without further debate. He flicked through channels until he found a rerun of Magnum, PI.

“Cool,” he exclaimed involuntarily. “I used to adore Magnum.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “Leave it on.”

Steve settled on the other, shorter prong of my L-shaped sofa and handed me a sandwich. I munched slowly, still not feeling hungry, trying to focus on the TV program and not thinking too hard about the fact that Steve was there, in my flat.

It turned out that conversation was beyond me at that point, as was TV watching. I fell asleep under the snuggly duvet before I had quite finished my sandwich.

When I woke an hour later, Steve had turned the telly off and was busy doing the cryptic crossword in the paper. There was a cup of tea on the coffee table beside him, as well as the discarded sections of his paper. He had opened one of the sash windows and a breeze was gently stirring the curtains. The tableau of domesticity and familiarity was so powerful, so comforting, that I had to catch my breath. Steve noticed me looking and flashed me one of his devastating smiles.

“All right?” he asked simply.

“All right,” I replied. Nothing more needed to be said. He calmly carried on doing his crossword as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and I lay on the sofa looking out the window, thinking about nothing in particular.

“Deliver radio for nothing,” Steve suddenly shot my way. “Three, four.”

“Huh?” I shot back eloquently—not. “What?”

“Deliver radio for nothing,” Steve repeated. “It’s one of my clues. Three letters, then a four letter word.”

My weary brain sprang into action and I found myself turning over words in my head this way and that.

“Something ‘free,’” I ventured eventually. “‘For nothing’ could be ‘free.’”

Steve pointed his biro at me like an imaginary gun. “Well done, you,” he exclaimed. “And ‘radio’ is ‘set.’ ‘Set free’ as in…‘deliver.’ We got it.” He entered the answer contentedly in the grid, and I felt ludicrously pleased.

“Want to do some more?” Steve offered eagerly.

“I suppose I could have a go,” I concurred.

“Okay, scooch over,” he suggested and sat down next to me. I leaned slightly against him, my head resting on his shoulder as I was reading the clues from the paper in his hands.

“Oh, I got another one!” I found myself shouting. “Look, ‘tax obligation,’ four letters.” I paused and looked at him to see if he had found the solution. He gestured for me to spit it out.

“‘
Duty,’” I announced triumphantly, and he nodded his consent.

“Clever girl,” he praised, and once more I felt inanely pleased.

Part of me registered that we were sitting there, almost a-cuddle, in contented togetherness like a long-married couple. And another part registered that this was fine. It was more than fine, it was meant to be. It felt right.

And so it went on. As I wasn’t really up to anything…physical, we began with all the things that people do when they’ve been together for a long time. We did crosswords. Steve went out and bought me some wool, and I took up knitting. We watched silly soaps and scary crime thrillers together until the wee small hours of the morning, me nodding off periodically like an old lady. Steve cooked, and he found a cleaning lady to take over the chores for a few weeks. He arranged his schedule so that he worked early mornings until mid-afternoon. I was amazed that he would go to such lengths for me, but he seemed to think it was perfectly normal.

So with Steve popping by every day, and actually staying over most nights, too—it was that much more convenient that way, and he did sleep on the sofa—it was like I had a three-week enforced vacation with a romantic twist thrown in for free.

“We are totally reverse-dating here,” I observed jokingly as Steve and I were getting ready to entertain Dan and Rachel for dinner. It was a Thursday night; I had been out of hospital for two weeks and was beginning to feel better, although I was still on sick leave for another week.

“Reverse-dating?” Steve looked at me blankly.

“We’re doing this whole relationship thing backwards,” I tried to elaborate.