“You never called me that,” he pointed out.
“Oh, I did. In my head. Lots of times. In fact…Sorry, I just did it again.”
Luke’s expression softened a little, a sliver of amusement danced around his lips. “It wasn’t only me,” he commented. “You weren’t exactly friendly when we first met.”
“No, but I’m sure you’d have got past that a lot quicker if I was some blond goddess or girlie brunette.”
His eyes fixed on my face in a manner I knew meant he was desperately trying to stop himself from giving me another once-over. “Your kid’s so cool,” he said, changing the subject.
“Is that a dig?” I asked. “I’m not cool but Tegan is?”
“Are you always this paranoid?” he asked.
“Just cos you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you,” I replied.
“I was simply making a statement of fact. Your child is cool. You can’t help but like her…And that’s not a dig, it’s a statement of fact.”
“Yes, she is a lovely girl,” I agreed.
“Right, well, I’d better let you get back to work—and put Betsy and Ruby out of their misery.” We both glanced out of the office at Betsy, who was wringing her hands as she pretended to have a conversation with Ruby at her desk while they both watched the office. When they saw us look their way they both fell over themselves to look otherwise engaged.
“So, we wipe the slate clean and start again?” he said, turning at the door.
“Yup, I believe that is what we have agreed.”
Luke smiled, not a charming one but not a caustic one either. “I do mean it, you know.”
I returned his smile. “Me too.”
When I returned from a meeting with the head of the children’s department later that day, I found a Twix bar on my desk with the note
Tegan said you like chocolate.
Luke
“you have to kiss luke too”
chapter 21
Light flooded my senses as I opened my eyes a fraction. I had to immediately snap them shut again. It was too painful. Even with my eyes closed there seemed to be gallons of light pouring into my head, squeezing my brain in a death grip.
I reached out for a pillow to cover my head but my fingers couldn’t locate one. Odd. I usually had lots of pillows in my bed. It slowly dawned on me I hadn’t moved my arm at all. I’d lost the use of my limbs. My mouth and my head and my eyes all felt swollen and tender. And the pain made me feel like throwing up. I had the beginnings of a migraine—I could still think so I wasn’t in the grip of a proper one, yet.
I didn’t have time for a migraine. I had a child to prepare for school; I had to get ready for work. The fist around my temple tightened.
Maybe Mrs. Kaye would come over to take Tegan to school? I wondered before dismissing the idea. She had six children to sort out, she couldn’t take on another at such short notice. I’d have to brave it out, force myself to put the migraine behind me for a little while.
I gasped as the fist clamped tighter around my head.
Or maybe Luke? He’d come and take Tiga to school—he’d do anything for her. And for me too, it seemed.
He’d been true to his word about starting again and in the two weeks since the picnic he hadn’t snapped at me or dismissed any of my ideas out of hand. He’d also suggested we have daily meetings in his office to discuss our revamped marketing strategy. I’d begun to look forward to these because it was almost as good as working with Ted. I felt like part of a team, involved again. And the apathy and feelings of futility eased for a while. I was the old Kamryn, focused on work and work alone for half an hour. Luke and I weren’t friends or anything, just colleagues. He had started to trust my opinion, to accept that I really did know my job. The times we saw each other outside of work we did actually speak about nonwork things. Some way down the line our relationship could become a proper friendship. In the spirit of our newly negotiated peace and harmony I was sure if I picked up the phone he’d be straight over to take Tegan to school. All I had to do was reach out and pick up the phone.
Time passed. And I still couldn’t move. Not in bed and certainly not to pick up the phone. The alarm went off and my body contracted in agony. I didn’t even have the energy to shut it off so I had to wait for it to stop. I must have fallen asleep again because the next thing I knew, Tegan was standing by my bed.
“Mummy Ryn,” she said, taking hold of my arm and pulling at it.
“Hnghhh,” I replied.
“It’s time for us to get up,” she singsonged.
“I—I can’t,” I replied.
“But I have to go to school.”
I managed to open my eyes and focus on the girl in the red-gingham PJs. She was looking at me with deep disapproval and slight irritation—the same way my mum used to look at me when I dawdled about getting up for school in the mornings.
“I’m not feeling well,” I managed through my swollen mouth.
“You’re sick?” she asked.
“Yes, Tiga, I’m sick. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes doubled in size and she turned and fled. Ran out of my bedroom before I could form the word, “Wait.” Even though I could barely lift my eyelids, I had to go after her and find out what was wrong.
Summoning all my strength, I raised my arm, gripped the edge of my sheet and pulled it back. That small movement sent spikes of pain shooting behind my eyes. I had to rest for a few seconds before I moved my legs off the bed and sat up. They touched the floor and the soft pile felt like needles on the bottom of my feet. I swayed as I stood up, and had to hold on to the bedside table to steady myself.
I grabbed the wall and moved across my bedroom, keeping myself upright by holding on to the wall with the flats of my hands, propelling myself forward. When I reached the window, I had to hold on to the radiator to keep myself moving and then I was back holding on to the cool white walls. Come on, come on, I urged myself. I finally reached the door and grabbed the door frame, launching myself out of the bedroom and into the corridor.
I headed along the corridor, which, after the turn from my bedroom, was mercifully straight. I held on to the cupboard fronts as Tegan’s bedroom, my target, loomed into view—a shining beacon of hope in a dark night.
One more step, one more step. I launched myself away from the wall and made it—I was finally standing in Tegan’s doorway.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, clinging onto Meg as though her life depended on it while rocking back and forth, her face contorted with the pain of unshed tears.
“Tegan, what’s the matter?” I said, leaning against her door frame to keep myself upright.
“You’re ill,” she said, still rocking and staring at a spot on the floor. “You’re ill and you’re going to heaven to be with Jesus and the angels and my mummy.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re going to heaven like my mummy,” she accused.
“Tiga, I’m not, it’s only a migraine, a headache, it will go away. It w—” My words were cut short by the buzzer sounding, which caused agony to explode in my head. I couldn’t ignore it, if it sounded again, it would probably finish me off. “Wait here,” I said to Tegan.
“Hello,” I said into the white intercom.
“It’s Luke,” the voice on the other end said.
What’s he doing here at the crack of dawn? I hadn’t called him despite my thoughts earlier. I buzzed him in and opened our front door to him.
He appeared seconds later, wearing the same blue shirt, navy blue tie and black suit he’d been wearing at work yesterday. He was brandishing a smug grin and a twinkle in his eye.
“Hi, I was seeing someone in the area and thought you might like a lift to school and wor—Jeez, you look awful,” he said as I stepped back to let him in.
“I thought we’d gotten over you thinking I was a dog,” I joked. Tegan came out of her bedroom, having heard Luke’s voice.
“Kamryn?” Luke said. His
voice sounded as though he was whispering at me from the end of a long tunnel. “Are you going—”
More pain exploded in my brain, and the world was suddenly an array of pulsing pink, blue, green and yellow flashing lights. Then everything was white.
Slowly, I prised open my eyes and didn’t instantly snap them shut. The light didn’t puncture my head with stars of agony like it did earlier. Spikes of pain still tore at the area behind my right eye but the nausea was gone. Something cool and damp lay across my forehead, taking away the burning from the migraine. I reached up to touch it; it was a washcloth.
“Ahhh, you’re awake.” Beside my bed, Luke sat on one of the kitchen chairs, a book in his hands, one foot resting on the wooden base of my bed. He laid the book down on my bedside table and examined me with concerned hazel eyes.
“Where’s Tegan?” I croaked.
He indicated the space on the bed beside me. I turned my head. She was in her pajamas curled up like a cat beside me, clinging to Meg even in the depths of sleep.
“She didn’t want to leave you.”
“I passed out?”
Luke nodded. “When you keeled over you gave me a scare, but she was hysterical. She started screaming about you going to heaven like her mum. She refused to go to school, said if she left, you would go to heaven without her.”
I stared down at her, watching her troubled little face as she slept. Suddenly her eyes flew open, making me jump a little. She sat up, blinking at me.
“Are you better?” she asked, her face and body tensed as she awaited my reply.
“A little bit,” I replied, trying—and failing—to make my voice sound normal.
“Hey, T, why don’t you go get Kamryn a drink from the kitchen? I’ve put one on the table,” Luke said. To me he added, “T said you had a migraine so I rang the doctor and she said you should get lots of fluids.”
Tegan shunted down to the end of the bed, then got off by turning around, putting a foot on the wooden base, then putting the other foot on the floor. Her feet pounded the carpet as she ran out to the kitchen.
The second she disappeared, Luke threw himself forward in his seat. “I take it Tegan’s mother died recently?” he said in lowered tones.
I nodded.
“How recently?”
“Very.”
“Kamryn, you can talk to me.”
We had ceased hostilities, we had pleasant conversations and, at some point, he and I could become real friends, but right now he was getting nothing out of me.
Tegan returned to the room, holding a straight glass in both her hands, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she took small steps, walking slowly and carefully, so as not to spill any of the glass’s contents. I struggled upright, the cloth falling from my forehead as I sat up.
Luke retrieved the cloth and left. A bathroom tap spurted to life seconds later. I took the glass from Tegan, lowered my head, drank. The water soothed and cooled as it flowed into my mouth and down my throat. I gulped down a couple more mouthfuls. “Thank you,” I said.
“Are you going to be better?” she asked, rocking from one foot to another, twisting her petite hands together. It never occurred to me that she would make the connection between my illness and death. That she’d think I’d go the same way as her mother. But why wouldn’t she? Most nights I’d wake up and have a moment of terror that had me rushing to her bedroom to double-check that she was all right. Irrational fear in the wake of a death wasn’t so irrational, and it certainly wasn’t the reserve of adults.
“Between the water and the washcloth, I’ll be better in no time,” I said. Tegan twisted her mouth to one side, and regarded me with suspicion—convinced she was not. Tegan needed someone she could rely on, I realized as I watched her reaction to my reply. Someone who’d be there when I wasn’t. Luke returned, bearing the orange cloth. He moved to lay it on my forehead then thought better of it.
“Here.” He held it out to me.
“I’m going to be fine,” I reassured Tegan, reaching out my free hand to her. She slipped her small hand into mine and I was transported back to the day of the funeral. The day I held her hand in mine, suddenly frightened at this new responsibility. Responsibility for a life. I had to ensure she reached adulthood, that she was happy and healthy and intellectually stretched as she made that journey. Single parents were constantly being held up as pariahs in society, but they should be hailed as heroes—bringing up children on your own without falling apart was a miracle to me. I’d been doing it for only a couple of months and I was struggling. Much as it grated my self-sufficient mind to admit it, I needed someone.
Luke patted his legs. “Jump up, T, and we can read to Kamryn before she goes back to sleep.” She did as she was told and Luke opened my book—J. G. Ballard’s Drowned World—at where I’d shoved a bookmark in.
He started reading, encouraging Tegan to follow the words with her finger. I closed my eyes. His voice was smooth as he formed the words my favorite author had written. Luke took the glass from my hand as I slid down in bed and felt myself drift into sleep again. My eyes flittered open for a second and the image of Tegan sitting on Luke’s lap, staring at the book while he read to us, was one that stayed with me into sleep.
When I awoke again Luke was still sitting by my bed, reading. I removed the damp cloth from my forehead, and the movement alerted him I was awake. His face creased into the affectionate smile he usually reserved for Tegan. “Hi,” he said. I moved my arm but Tegan wasn’t beside me.
“I convinced her to go watch the telly,” he said when he spotted what I was doing. “She only agreed to go if I stayed here and she comes back every few minutes to check that you haven’t gone anywhere.”
The spikes of pain were blunted now; only a dull throb signaled my earlier torture, but I still moved stiffly as I sat up. “Thanks, Luke. Thanks for everything.”
He leaned forward, picked up the glass of water and handed it to me. He watched me drink and took the glass away when I’d finished.
“I called Tegan’s school earlier, explained the situation, and I told work we wouldn’t be in for a couple of days. You’re sick, obviously, so I’ll work from home.”
“Why?”
“It’s clear that you need someone to take care of you both.”
“I don’t need anyone,” I snapped.
Luke gripped his lips together rather than rise to my anger. “Well, I thought I’d stick around if that’s all right.”
“Everyone at work’s going to think we’re shagging now.” I pulled the covers up to my neck. I was braless in a white T-shirt in front of a man who had issues with my body.
“There are worse things for people to think.”
“Are there?” I replied.
Luke glanced down, embarrassed. Something occurred to me. He lived in a two-bedroom flat in Alwoodley, so for him to be in Horsforth meant he was traveling in the wrong direction for work. “Why were you in the area again?”
“I, erm, was visiting someone.”
“You’re wearing the same clothes as you were yesterday.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been home.” We made eye contact and I knew exactly what he meant.
“Blonde or brunette?”
“Blonde. Pretty. Amazing body. Not afraid to use it.”
“Good for you.”
“I think we should talk.”
“What are we doing now?”
“Kamryn, I’m well aware I’ve been a pig to you, but you haven’t been the easiest person to get along with. And now I’m beginning to understand why—you’re grieving.”
I stopped looking at him, stared at my off television.
“I don’t pretend to understand any of what you’re going through, but I do know that bottling it up isn’t good for you or for Tegan.” That touched a nerve—was I hurting Tegan by not being honest about my emotions? By hiding from my pain.
“I always thought that Tegan was someone you’d fostered after you hadn’t really thou
ght things through. And no one at work seems to know that much about you, which is strange when you’ve worked there for years. Ted wasn’t talking. Your friend Betsy won’t tell me a thing, but I get the impression she doesn’t know that much anyway.”
“What makes you think I’d talk to you, then?”
“You owe me.”
“For what?!”
“Hey, I caught you when you fainted. I carried you to bed. I calmed Tegan down. I called the doctor to find out what to do. I…I even told work that you were ill. Now if that isn’t worthy of a reward, I don’t know what is.”
“I’ll buy you a drink sometime.”
“Seriously, Kamryn, you can talk to me. It’ll go no further.” He paused, waited for me to unburden myself. I said nothing.
“OK,” he said with a sigh. “I was engaged to be married. I met her at Harvard. I’ve traveled a lot so we’ve been together on and off for ten years—whenever I returned to New York we got back together. This last time we were together for three years.” Luke reached into his inside pocket, pulled out his wallet, flipped it open and showed me her picture. She was pretty, of course. Long blond hair, immaculate skin, shaped eyebrows, soft pink lips. She was more than pretty, she was stunningly beautiful. And the way her brown eyes sparkled at the camera, she was obviously in love with the person who’d taken the picture. Obviously in love with my boss. He flipped the wallet shut and returned it to his pocket. “Her name is Nicole and we’d actually set a date for the wedding. Then I was offered a job in London. I assumed she’d want to come with me but she said no. When I decided to turn the job down she told me not to because London wasn’t the issue, her feelings for me were. She loved me but, at that time, she couldn’t commit to moving across the world with me. She wasn’t sure it would work out between us. So I came alone. We speak every week and I still carry her picture, as you just saw, and…” He stopped talking and stared at the carpet for a few seconds. Then he raised his eyes. “And I cling to the hope she’ll change her mind about us. There. No one else in England knows that. I’m trusting you to keep it to yourself because even eighteen months down the line it still hurts. I still want her back.”