When You Walked Back Into My Life (21 page)

Dominic beamed. ‘Easy to get in a muddle about this sort of thing. Especially when you don’t spend a lot of time in the salerooms like I do.’

‘Am I in a muddle?’ she asked, her pale eyes suddenly sharp.

When he left, he didn’t come into the kitchen as he normally did, just called goodbye from the hall. Flora went to see him out and noticed that he had a small painting tucked under his arm – the farm landscape from the wall above the desk in the sitting room. Flora had no idea who it was by.

‘Umm … Aunt Dot asked me to sell this next. Seems to be on a roll, trying to get rid of all her worldly goods.’

‘Right … Dorothea mentioned to Rene that you were selling some of her things and Rene didn’t seem to know about it. You told me you’d talked to her.’

‘I know, she called me. I definitely left her a message. She must have wiped it by mistake or something.’

‘Will you make sure you actually talk to her this time, please? As I said before, it’d be really awkward if there was a problem and us nurses were accused of nicking things.’

‘Of course I will, but you know, Flora, Rene can be a bit tricky.’ He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I mean, she’s doing a splendid job, and I’m endlessly grateful to her for it, of course, but I sometimes think she’s a bit possessive of Aunt Dot.’ He eyed her, carefully gauging her reaction.

‘She’s just trying to protect her,’ Flora replied.

‘Yes, yes, naturally. And I said I admire her tremendously for doing it. I just think she’s sometimes unnecessarily suspicious of us all. As if I would even dream of cheating anyone, let alone my dear old aunt. It really is unthinkable.’ He stood silently for a moment, looking injured in just the way Pia had.

‘So what’s the picture worth, do you think?’

He shrugged, bringing it up to the light. ‘Not a lot. It’s a John Bowman … he’s a not very important Victorian artist,
although he has a small following still. Landscapes aren’t really the thing at the moment, but she wanted it gone, so I’m obliging her. Should be able to make a few hundred, bring the grand total so far up to a thousand. Not to be sniffed at.’

‘No, indeed,’ Flora agreed, wondering how many thousand he was pocketing for himself. Or if he was, in fact, just doing his best for his aunt.

*

Fin was asleep on the sofa when Flora got home from work that night. Since returning from Scotland two weeks ago, he had been increasingly morose. The remaining days of their holiday had been magic. The weather held and the house began to feel more lived in. Both of them tacitly put a moratorium on any mention of the future, and they laughed and loved and walked in the sunshine as if they were carefree, the days speeding past too quickly.

‘Hey …’ He raised his head from the cushion at her touch, then flopped back. ‘Christ, what time is it?’

‘Quarter to nine. Are you OK?’

He pulled himself upright, rubbing his face with both his hands. ‘I must have dozed off. Sorry … I haven’t even started supper.’

‘Doesn’t matter. What did the hospital say?’

‘They said what I thought they’d say, that it’s finally on the mend.’

‘That’s brilliant … isn’t it?’

‘Yeah … yeah, it is. Of course it is.’

She sat down next to him. ‘But?’

‘Well, so it’s better. So what?’

She was taken aback by the despair in his voice.

‘Flo, I haven’t got a life any more. I’m as weak as a kitten. I don’t have a job or any money. I don’t have a future. And so my leg is better, which is good. But the doc said it would be months before I would be properly fit to climb again, and then I’d have to be careful of my back. And I’m bored to tears, hanging around here being nothing more than a dumb housewife.’

Flora, seeing he was in distress, tried not to be offended by his words. ‘Well, maybe you should take off, go back to Inverness for a while and get fit.’

‘Will you come with me? Nothing except that dying woman is stopping you.’

She stared at him, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. He had kept the pressure up, constantly referring to the life they would have once they settled in Scotland. And each time Flora had to hold the front line, keep repeating that it was too soon, that she had a job.

‘OK …’ he was saying. ‘So what happens if she lives for another two, three, even four years? It’s quite possible, with
you looking after her as well as you do. Will you still be there in four years’ time?’

‘She won’t. But yes, I suppose I might.’

‘Might?’ Fin looked triumphant. ‘So it’s not written in stone, then. You
might
leave if it goes on too long, but you
won’t
leave now.’ He threw his arms in the air. ‘Don’t get it.’

Flora got up. Is Dorothea an excuse? she wondered. If she died tomorrow, would she be happy to go wherever Fin took her? She took a long breath, trying to be sympathetic because she understood how frustrated he must be.

‘I didn’t mean it like that. I said “might” because we’re talking about a situation where neither of us knows the outcome. So yes, I might still be there if she doesn’t die. But she’s getting weaker physically all the time. I noticed it when I got back.’

Fin began pacing about the small space. He stopped in front of Flora, his hands on his hips.

‘You don’t trust me. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t come away with me.’ He stared at her. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘You know the reason.’

‘How much longer are you going to make me pay for my sins, Flo? I can only say I’m sorry so many times. I made a mistake, but can’t you forgive and forget, let us get on with our life? We were so happy in Scotland together.’

He reached out to put his arms around her shoulders, but she twisted away.

‘This isn’t about you, Fin, or forgiveness. It’s about
my
life. I’ve said it a million times: I’m not walking out on Dorothea. And it’s all well and good us running off to Scotland, but neither of us has a job up there. How’s that going to work?’

She moved past him, her whole body trembling with indignation.

‘Thanks for reminding me.’ Fin’s voice behind her was sullen and tired. He followed her into the bedroom where she had flopped down on the edge of the bed.

‘Sorry, Flo, sorry. Please, come back …’

‘You keep hassling me about my job,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair.’

He sat beside her. ‘I know, I know. Flo, look at me, please. I’m sorry. I was horrible just now. I think it was the back thing that freaked me out. The doctor went on about my spine being weak and not to put too much strain on it. And when I asked how long it might take to be OK again, he just said “Maybe never, you sustained very serious injuries, you know.” Like I hadn’t noticed.’ He sighed. ‘And then he said, giving me this really stern look, “You don’t want to end up in a wheelchair” … Christ.’

He prised her right hand away from the left as she clenched
the two together in her lap and kissed it gently, turning it over and burying his mouth in the palm of her hand.

‘I love you … so much. You love me, don’t you? Say it, please … say you love me, Flo.’

She looked up at him, saw the pain in his eyes and felt an overwhelming love for him. But somehow it wasn’t a joyous love; it felt sad, almost pitying.

‘I do love you,’ she whispered, saying it properly for the first time. And it was the truth. She just hoped it was enough, not so much for him, but for herself.

His face cleared, a broad grin driving the despair from his eyes. ‘God, it makes me so happy to hear you say it. I thought … well, maybe I was a disappointment to you this time around. Without the whole macho adventure-climbing thing …’

She laughed. ‘I never loved you because you were a mountaineer, Fin.’

‘Didn’t you? But that was part of it, no? Part of the package?’

She leant into his body. ‘Part of who you are, so yes, I suppose part of what I love. But you don’t have to be a climber for me to love you.’

Fin held her close and gave a long sigh. ‘That’s just as well. Because from what the doctor said, it’s looking less and less likely that I’ll be able to do the mountains seriously again.’

8 December

‘I need to beg a favour. Can you do this Saturday night?’ Mary asked, when Flora got to work on Monday morning. ‘My sister’s coming over from Dublin for the weekend.’

‘Of course.’ Flora heard the hesitation in her own voice.

‘I can ask Rene to find someone else if it’s a problem? Or get Pia to do it … although I’d rather not.’

‘No, no, it’s fine, really.’ She didn’t relish the thought of night duty, never had, but she owed Mary.

‘Sure lover boy’ll be able to do without you for one night?’ Mary joked.

‘Sure.’

Fin was in the shower when she got home.

‘Don’t worry,’ he called. ‘I’ve done the supper. All ready
to go.’ He came out in a T-shirt and sweatpants, kissing her before he went to turn the hob on under the pan of vegetable soup. He smelt of ginger body wash, deliciously damp and clean.

‘I have to do a night on Saturday. Mary’s got her sister over from Ireland.’

Fin groaned. ‘Why can’t they get someone else to do it? You work all week as it is.’

‘I suppose they could, but Dorothea wouldn’t know them. And Mary was so good about doing my shifts when we went to Scotland.’

She sat down, watching Fin getting the bowls out, cutting the bread, grating the cheese, dressing the salad.

He brought over a glass of red wine and handed it to her.

‘It must be a health and safety issue, the amount of hours you all do. Isn’t the old lady’s care compromised by overworked nurses?’

She laughed. ‘I won’t do much except sleep. She only wakes once or twice on a normal night. And it’s money.’

‘Well, if she only wakes twice, why would it matter who was there? She’d hardly notice. And anyway, we were thinking of a pizza and movie with Bel on Saturday. Remember?’

‘We could do it in the afternoon. I don’t have to be there till eight. I’m sure Bel won’t mind.’

‘Will you ask, though? See if someone else can do it?’

‘I’ve told Mary now.’

‘But it’s not up to her to find a replacement nurse, is it? Surely that’s Rene’s job?’

‘Fin, can you drop it please? It’s only one night.’

But he was shaking his head.

‘It’s not the night itself, it’s the principle. You’re her nurse, Flo, not her daughter. You shouldn’t feel obliged to spend so much time worrying about whether she’s happy or not.’

Flora put her glass down on the table. She was tired.

‘I know you’re right, but it
is
different from most jobs. I suppose I’ve got too attached.’

‘You wouldn’t be expected to do twelve-hour shifts if you were in an A&E department, would you?’

‘No, true.’

He seemed to be waiting for her to concede more.

‘I don’t know what to say, Fin, except this is my job at the moment. Sometimes I think you’re jealous of Dorothea.’ She spoke lightheartedly. But his expression didn’t lift in response.

‘Am I being ridiculous?’ he asked finally, giving her a sheepish grin. ‘It’s just the days seem so fucking long. I sit here all by myself and I get maudlin I suppose.’

‘Is the soup OK?’

He rushed to rescue the pan.

As they sat eating their supper on the sofa, Flora asked, ‘Have you thought any more about going up north?’

Fin nodded but didn’t say any more.

‘And?’

She saw him take a deep breath. ‘I will go, for a week maybe. But I’m worried if I do you won’t want me back.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’ She was amazed. Fin had always been independent – sometimes to a fault – and here he was, sounding almost scared of being separated from her for a few days.

‘Look, I know I’ve been a pain recently. I take it out on you all the time, I do realise that. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me around.’

In the silence, her thoughts flashed back to how it had been between them in the past, before he had left her. But all she could remember was him being away for weeks at a time and the thrill of him returning, lean and bronzed, full of his adventures. How they would fall into each other’s arms, make love as if for the first time. They seldom argued about anything. And whereas she’d loved her job, it was Fin who consumed her thoughts – her life. How real had it all been? she asked herself now.

‘Do you think she’ll die before Christmas?’ he was asking.

‘Oh, Fin … I have no idea. Christmas is only about two weeks away. Can you stop hassling me about her.’

‘I suppose you’ll be working?’

‘No, actually. Mary always does Christmas Day and Boxing Day. She likes it, she says. Rene comes over. It’s much like any other day for Dorothea I expect. She hates fuss.’

*

Pia opened the door to Flora on Saturday night, giving her a sweet smile. Flora remembered Mary saying that the Filipina nurse made her teeth hurt, and understood what she meant.

‘Everything OK?’ Flora asked.

Pia nodded. ‘We have nice day. Miss Dorothea is happy happy … we go to the park. She is very well.’

‘I’ll just go and say hello.’

She knocked, and went into the old lady’s bedroom. Dorothea was lying facing the wall and Flora thought she might be already asleep as she didn’t reply when Flora said hello. She laid her hand gently on her shoulder, but Dorothea flinched, quickly withdrawing her arm away from her touch.

‘Dorothea, it’s me … Flora.’

She felt her patient go still for a moment, then turn cautiously to face her.

‘Flora …’ Dorothea blinked up at her. ‘Is it Monday?’

‘No, it’s Saturday night. I am doing tonight instead of Mary. She has her sister visiting from Ireland.’

The old lady reached out and clutched her hand. ‘You’re staying?’ She looked past her towards the door.

‘I’m staying tonight, yes.’

Dorothea sighed, still clinging to Flora’s hand. Flora looked intently at her patient’s anxious face. This is what Mary had been talking about. ‘I’m just going to have a word with Pia.’ She tried to extricate her hand, but the old lady clung on.

‘You’re staying … now?’

Flora stroked her hand. ‘Yes. I just have to speak to Pia for a moment. I’ll be straight back.’