The Harder They Fall (15 page)

A few moments later, the doctor came back with various tubes in a kidney dish, took Andy’s blood samples and left again, all without a word spoken by either of them. Dan continued to watch through slitted eyes, closing them as soon as it appeared as if Andy might look his way. He’d decided that it was the virus making him come over all sentimental, because for the past couple of days he’d been so glad to see his brother and could feel the respect he had for him increasing to an almost exponential extent. It was Andy who had made the decision to set up the business; it was Andy who had set in motion the arrangements for this trip; and it was Andy who had safely brought him back down the mountains to the hospital. He wanted to reach out and reassure him that everything would be all right, but he couldn’t, in part because it wouldn’t, but also because saying anything would mean revealing he had heard every word and Andy wouldn’t be very happy about that. At some point though, when he’d calmed down, Dan was going to have to say something, as this wasn’t really about whether Jess and Rob did or didn’t get it on at the reunion, or at least, that wasn’t the whole story.

The door opened and the doctor, along with another member of staff, also garbed in a full body suit, came into view, the latter backing into the room, pulling the end of a bed, one of the wheels squeaking as it turned against the resistance of a stuck brake. Andy took a deep breath and slowly let it go before he turned around, side-stepping so that they could position the bed against the wall that had helped him to keep his anger in check. The second man left the room and the doctor was at the door before Andy called out.

“Listen, mate, I’m really sorry about before.”

“No need, no need. It’s not a good situation and totally understandable.” The tone of his voice indicated that a nervous smile was probably lurking unseen behind the mask. Andy nodded his appreciation, waited until the door closed and threw himself on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable, certainly more so than the one at the hotel, but this was the pits. The rage had turned him morose and as he stared up at the grey ceiling, he felt tears trickle from the outer corners of his eyes. He’d seen this coming two years ago, when everything came to a head with the Shaunna situation, and Jess had pushed him away. She’d promised to stand by him, and to be fair, she’d seen through on that promise, but her resistance back then, and the deceit since: not telling him about the reunion was merely the confirmation of what he’d been trying to ignore. It was over between them and he was going to have to find a way to come to terms with it.

It was strange that only a couple of days ago, he had been thinking up ways of putting it to her that they try and start a family. In the time that lapsed between the realisation that this was something he wanted and Dan’s revelation about Rob’s last minute party, he had run through so many possibilities in his mind, trying to decide how he felt about fostering or adoption, so sure that Jess wouldn’t want them to have a baby of their own. She loved her career. It had always been the most important thing in her life; even when she was in jobs she hated, or had got herself in hot water with an over-amorous senior partner, it remained her priority. She’d never taken him seriously, he could see that now, and that was precisely the demise of their relationship. He promised to tame his wild ways, took the job in Dubai, set up the business with Dan, all actions designed to show how sensible and responsible he could be, but now he knew that this wasn’t what she wanted at all. She used to scream and shout at him for being reckless, upset at how he’d put himself at risk and how much he worried her, but in reality, this was what attracted her to him in the first place. Now he was a boring thirty-nine year old, with a wonderful, grown-up daughter for whom he could take none of the credit, and what for him was the equivalent of a steady job, and Jess was no longer interested. Everything she’d asked of him he had given and she’d thrown it right back. Andy sniffed, turned towards the wall and curled up.

Dan rolled onto his side and watched his brother’s shuddering back. If they’d been at home, he’d have taken him off somewhere to drown his sorrows, but here all he could do was watch on, so close and so far away. It was quite some time ago, maybe as much as fifteen years, when Adele had really hurt him for the first time. They’d been sharing a house near to where Shaunna and Kris lived now; rented, because he was only a couple of years out of university and still trying to find his way in the job market. So, he was in his first real job and she was working as an assistant to an exceedingly talented yet demanding old seamstress who had escaped Nazi Germany, hidden by her mother inside a roll of silk, or so the story went. Adele hated that job, but made good tips, and they saved every bit of spare cash they had for that holiday. She wanted to go on a cruise, and that’s what they did: only a week, because they couldn’t afford more than that, picking them up from New York, then a round trip via the Bahamas, before returning to New York to fly home again. They were so excited to be going on a proper holiday together, and Dan had been all set to propose to her during their time on-board.

That first ring had long since landed at the bottom of the ocean, flung from the top deck when he saw her with the singer from the ship’s band. For three nights he watched her flirt, ignoring it as best he could, because harmless flirting was something he could take, if he constantly reminded himself that that was all it was. The fourth night: he went to the bar to buy drinks during the break in the performance, taking his place in the horde of other passengers waiting to be served. What Adele and the singer didn’t realise, or perhaps didn’t even care about, was that whilst they could no longer see him, he could see them, and what followed went so far beyond harmless flirting that just as soon as Dan returned with the drinks, he ended their relationship there and then, knocked the singer unconscious with one punch and stormed out of the bar, straight up to the top deck, from which he launched the engagement ring, along with the wristwatch Adele had bought him for his twenty-first birthday, over the side and down into the formidable, black fathoms far below.

When they returned to England, Andy came to pick them up from the airport and knew without recourse to words that they had broken up. He dropped Adele off to stay with her parents, at her request, left the car outside Dan and Adele’s house, and took him straight to the nearest pub, where they drank until they threw up. Even now, he could remember sitting on the edge of the pavement outside that pub, sobbing his heart out, with Andy’s arms around him, shushing and soothing him the way their mother used to, on occasion, when they’d grazed a knee. The next day it was back to business as usual: he dismissed Andy’s kindness with a snide remark about how he had fallen for and played his pre-designated role in the whole act he was putting on to get back at Adele, although it was an ‘act’ he went on to repeat with Kris a couple of years later, before he found a way to toughen up his heart, along with his body.

It pained him now, to think of how cruel he had been to Andy back then; yet, when he needed him, he was there at his side, as always, and right at this moment, the thing he wanted most in the world was to do the same for his brother. Slowly, he pushed his legs to the edge of the bed, where they slumped with a thud, the aches of being bed-bound for two days sending shooting pains down through the soles of his feet. It was a mammoth effort to sit up, and his head was spinning. He took a moment to steady himself and carefully dropped down onto the floor, then silently padded across the small distance to Andy’s bed and sat, his arm resting on his brother’s shoulder, the crying no longer silent. Andy reached up and laid his hand on Dan’s, so glad that he was here.

The next morning, bright and early and after a very poor night’s sleep on both counts, Dan and Andy tucked into some cornflakes, which the doctor had requested on Andy’s behalf. In spite of his appalling language and attitude, the doctor felt sorry for him, and went on to explain, in a very awkward fashion, that he’d received a letter from his girlfriend a few months ago, telling him that she was with someone else. He too had felt completely powerless and so angry that he’d have flattened the other man if he’d been anywhere near him at the time. Andy repeated his previous apologies and thanked him for his understanding. He was still hurting, but perhaps less so for having people around who empathised with his predicament. Dan was quite chirpy this morning too, and they chatted about small, inconsequential things, to fill the time and the emotional void that was making Andy feel so sick that he was extremely surprised when his blood tests all came back clear. Even better news was that the hospital had sent samples off to be tested by the experts, and these had confirmed an isolated case of good, old-fashioned, seasonal influenza virus, albeit a little early in the season. Dan’s immune system was kicking back and he was definitely out of danger, although he still wasn’t allowed out of quarantine for at least the next twenty-four hours, nor to fly for another twenty-four after that, while further tests and analyses were undertaken, just to be on the safe side. Meanwhile, Andy had been given a whole array of anti-viral treatments, along with a flu jab.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” he said.

“No worries,” Dan responded. He’d hoped he would decide to keep him company for the duration of the rest of his stay, but could totally understand why he’d chosen not to.

“Hang on, I wasn’t finished,” Andy said, a little annoyed at the presumption. “I’m going back to the hotel to shower and get some of my stuff, then I’m coming back. You’ll go mental if you have to stay here on your own.”

“I’ll go even more mental if I have to stay here with you!”

“Thanks!” Andy patted his brother’s arm, no need for words, and headed back to the hotel. He was going to ask Alan to investigate the flights situation on his behalf, or at the very least, get in touch with Bhagwan, as he had more contacts and would probably be able to sort something out for them. By now it was almost 9 a.m. local time, so around 3:15 a.m. back home, and the party, along with anything else that came of it, would be over.

“I don’t think I’ve ever before been so glad that this place was open till seven on a Saturday,” Adele said—to herself, it turned out. She giggled and stepped out of the revolving door onto the street, waiting for Shaunna to do likewise. They were carrying a bag each: in Adele’s was a dress for the reunion, not a million miles away from the one she’d worn when she was eighteen, and in Shaunna’s a pair of shoes, two sets of matching bra and knickers, mascara, false eyelashes and a large, expensive bottle of perfume, courtesy of Adele’s old colleague on the Chanel counter. It had been a very successful trip all round, and they’d had quite a lot of fun, a bit like last minute Christmas shopping, where almost anything will do. Not even the store manager, Adele’s ex-husband, Tom, suddenly appearing by the lingerie section when they were mid-way through choosing which sets to buy had ruined their hour of frantic dashing up and down the escalator between the Ladies’ Fashion department on the first floor, and Lingerie and Footwear on third.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit freaky that the men’s shoes are right next to all these knickers,” Shaunna whispered, watching Tom out of the corner of her eye. He was trying to look busy, shifting pairs of brogues around the racks.

“Now you come to mention it, yeah,” Adele agreed. She stood on tiptoes and peeped over the rail. Tom glanced her way and smiled the quickest smile she’d ever seen flash across someone’s face. She giggled. “He’s quite pathetic really, bless him.”

Afterwards, they’d even had time for a quick coffee and slice of carrot cake in the coffee shop on the top floor, before making their way back down in the juddery old lift, and through the hot, breezy, perfumed air of the ground floor, emerging red-cheeked and stuffy-nosed onto the street, where they were now waiting for a taxi. Given that they were going to the reunion together, Shaunna suggested stopping off to collect her things, before they both went back to Adele’s to get ready. Apparently Kris had booked the taxi to pick them up from there at seven-twenty, which gave them almost an hour.

When they arrived home, Alice had just finished washing up after little Shaunna’s dinner, and the teapot was ready for pouring. She staggered slightly as the two women bounced into the kitchen, well and truly in the pre-party spirit.

“Phew!” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. She closed her eyes and opened them again. “I can barely see you through the clouds of perfume.”

Adele giggled. “And she really means clouds,” she explained to Shaunna, although after nine months, she and Adele’s quirky childminder were well enough acquainted for her to know all about Alice’s synaesthesia. Nonetheless, it was a phenomenon that still fascinated Adele.

“What colour is this cloud?” she asked.

“Hold on, dear,” Alice replied, pouring the tea into the cups. Once she was done, she turned back to face the two women and watched the air for a moment. “Gosh, it’s a terrible jumble! Pinks, lilacs, yellows—have you been trying on all of the fragrances at once?”

“Not far off,” Shaunna laughed, taking one of the cups and sipping carefully. “Ooh. Wonderful cuppa, Alice, thank you.” Alice smiled happily; she did pride herself on her tea-making.

It was time to get ready and they took their drinks with them to the bedroom, tuned the TV to a classic hits music channel and cranked up the volume. Back in the lounge, little Shaunna startled at the sudden noise and put her finger to her lips.

“Sh-sh-shhh,” she said.

“Yes indeed,” Alice agreed, for she was quite startled herself.

Eleanor had been ready for more than an hour, or at least, her hair, make-up and nails were done, and she was sitting in her dressing gown, eating a fish curry and sweet potatoes. Oliver didn’t like fish curry, he said, many times, poking at it with his fork. James was trying his best to ignore what he saw as blatant insolence, at Eleanor’s suggestion, but even she was starting to get a little impatient with Oliver’s stubbornness. It was a phase; one she’d experienced firsthand with her younger brothers and sisters, and their offspring also. Regardless, the fish curry was all he was getting, and his equally obstinate father insisted he could eat it or go hungry. Eleanor left them to fight it out and went to put on her dress, which fitted perfectly and made her feel beautiful. The only problem was, as it had been the first time, that she couldn’t reach the zip to fasten it, and she returned to the kitchen to ask James for help. He stopped clearing the table and wiped his hands.