Chapter Twenty
It was early. The morning light filtering through the tree branches created a troupe of grey wraiths who were shadow-dancing on the wall opposite the window. I watched them in a fog that took me back to student hangovers, when cheap wine or tequila shots were the culprit, instead of pain meds that deserved a Class A rating.
I rolled over to face the corner of the room, where the man whose name had been on the packet of pills had spent the night. But except for a neatly folded blanket and a pillow, the chair was empty.
I glanced at my watch; it wasn’t even seven o’clock, but Josh had already gone. The bed was a cosy nest that I’d happily have stayed in longer, but my need to visit the bathroom was now fairly urgent and the chance to do so without Josh witnessing – or worse, having to help – was too good to miss.
Using the wall for support, I managed to hop awkwardly to the bathroom. I avoided the mirror above the basin as I washed my hands, because the brief glimpse I’d caught in the glass hadn’t been good. My hair was sporting a style that could best be termed Birds’ Nest Chic .
Fletcher was waiting for me outside the bathroom door and almost sent me flying when he jumped up and planted his paws on my chest. Still, the hot swipe of his tongue on my cheek was a nice reminder that at least someone was happy to see me.
I ruffled his ears and then wobbled alarmingly as I straightened up. I was going to have to seriously work on my balancing skills or I’d be spending an awful lot of time on my backside, I realised, as I tried to find my missing equilibrium.
It didn’t help that the wooden floor of the hallway was wet and slippery from Fletcher’s feet. It looked as though Josh had already taken him out this morning.
‘Where is he now, boy? Is he in the kitchen?’
Before knowing Adam, I’d thought owners who believed their dogs understood them were crazy. I’d have laughed if you’d told me that one day some of my most meaningful conversations would be with someone who could only bark their response. But then there were a lot of things old me would never have understood. Back then I hadn’t known that losing the person you were meant to grow old with would be so hard that some days you could barely drag yourself out of bed. If it hadn’t been for Fletcher, and the promise I’d made to Adam to take care of him, I could easily have spent weeks on end in our darkened bedroom. But I’d given my husband my word, and I’d kept it then, like I was keeping it now.
‘Let’s go see,’ I urged my dog, pivoting on my good leg before hopping down the gloomy hallway. Out of habit, I reached for the light switch and flicked it on, never for a moment expecting the corridor would immediately flood with light.
The power was back. I gave a whoop of joy, and with childlike glee turned on every bulb I passed, grinning broadly each time they lit up.
The kitchen was warm from the wood burner and looked much cosier now with its shadows dispelled by the overhead lamps. I looked around, a little disappointed there was no one to share the excitement with.
On the counter was a plate full of crumbs beside the Victoria sponge, from which several slices were missing. At least he liked my cake , I thought with a satisfied smile, which I was still wearing when I heard the click of the front door. I spun around a little too fast, swayed, and had to grab hold of the worktop to steady myself. Truly, if I made it through the day without falling over, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
‘The electricity is back,’ I cried triumphantly, as he stamped snow from his boots.
‘So I see,’ he replied with a twisted smile.
‘Isn’t that great?’ I asked, spotting a switch I’d not yet flicked. I grinned as a row of under-cupboard lights illuminated the worktop. ‘It’s like a gift.’
‘You must be very easy to buy for at Christmas,’ Josh said, peeling off his coat and lobbing it at a hook on the wall where it snagged first time. He really was too cool for school, but then he always had been.
I was one step closer to getting back to civilisation and being able to leave this forest hideaway; I ought to be giddy with excitement, but oddly I wasn’t. Before I could examine why, Josh reached for something he’d propped up against the wall behind him.
‘Talking of gifts . . .’ he said, holding out a length of polished wood that gleamed beneath the newly restored lighting.
My expression went from confused to delighted in a heartbeat.
‘You found me a crutch!’
‘I made you a crutch,’ he corrected.
‘You made this?’ I asked, running my fingers down the smooth wood, with its gently curved top. ‘When? Why? How?’
Josh gave something that could almost have passed as a smile, and took back the crutch to stand it upright on the tiled floor. ‘ When? This morning when I couldn’t sleep. Why? Because if that wobble I just witnessed is anything to go by, you’re going to need one for the next few days. And I refuse to answer the How? question on the grounds that it’s professionally insulting.’
‘Thank you, Josh,’ I said, reaching out to take the crutch from him. ‘That was really thoughtful of you.’ He flushed uncomfortably at my words, which confused the hell out of me. It was as though we’d forgotten how to be nice to each other . . . but that could have been as much my fault as it was his.
I positioned the head of the crutch under my armpit and took a tentative step. Like a nervous parent watching a toddler, Josh had his arms outstretched, waiting for me to topple. It strengthened my resolve to remain upright, which surprisingly I did.
Looking over at Josh, I realised something was starting to happen here in the forest. I wanted to blame it on the painkillers, but what I was experiencing hadn’t been mentioned in the long list of possible side effects. It was a long time since I’d fallen for Josh Metcalf, and if there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, neither of us wanted that to happen again.
It’s Stockholm syndrome , I told myself stubbornly. It’s that weird phenomenon when hostages start warming towards their captors. Except I wasn’t Josh’s prisoner here in the forest, and nor was I his guest . . . I was something else, which had no name. And whatever it was, it was conjuring up random memories from the past that I hadn’t thought about in years. And some of them felt good to revisit . . .
‘We could so easily have screwed this up, couldn’t we?’
I stiffened, and wondered if he could feel it beneath my charity shop coat. It might have been a year since I left university, but I still shopped like a student.
Josh’s arm tightened around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his side, offering a welcome barrier against the sharp autumn breeze.
‘Screwed what up, precisely?’ I asked.
He dragged me to one side of the pathway, as a cyclist whizzed past, almost mowing me down. Josh muttered a phrase I’d never heard before.
‘Are you swearing in Chinese again?’
His crooked grin still did stupid things to my pulse.
‘Maybe.’
His vocabulary had certainly expanded in new and interesting ways over the last two years. I’m not sure if he knew how to hold a conversation in the native language of any of the countries he’d visited, but he could swear like a marine in many different tongues.
‘You never answered my question,’ I said, falling back into step beside him. We were in perfect sync, as though we were hardwired for compatibility. ‘What is it that we could have . . . messed up?’ He smiled at the way I’d sanitised his comment.
‘Us. You and me. Our friendship. If we’d chosen to go down the path we nearly followed on the night of that party two years ago, I don’t think we’d be able to do this now – hang out together the way we do whenever I come back home.’
I kicked at a pile of leaves, taking my frustration out on them and hoping he didn’t notice.
‘I’d miss this,’ he continued, reaching for my hand and squeezing my fingers warmly. ‘This is so much better than having sex.’
I looked up at that. I had to.
‘If you truly believe that, then I think you’re doing it wrong.’
His laughter drew the attention of several passers-by.
‘What I mean is that I’d rather be with you like this, having fun and hanging out together, than sleep with you.’
‘Sorry? Is that meant to be a compliment or an insult? I can’t tell.’
‘It’s a compliment, of course.’
‘I think you should stop talking now,’ I said, ‘before the hole you’re digging becomes so deep you’ll never be able to climb out of it.’
We walked on in silence, broken only by his occasional quiet chuckle as he rewound our conversation in his head. I’d probably be doing that too, but I’d wait until the middle of the night before forensically dissecting his words. Perhaps one day, when I’d heard enough comments like these, I’d stop waiting for Josh to have a miraculous epiphany and realise the person he was meant to be with had been standing right there in front of him all along.
He genuinely believed our decision to whitewash the memory of the night of the party and concentrate on just being friends was a mutual one. It wasn’t. And each time he came back to the UK and turned up on my doorstep, I came a little closer to letting him know that it wasn’t what I wanted. But at the last minute I always chickened out.
‘One of these days I bet I’ll turn up and find you’re married with a kid,’ he’d teased on his last visit, as he hauled the sleeping bag he always brought with him out of his rucksack. ‘I still don’t understand how you’re always single.’
‘Maybe I’m just waiting for Mr Right,’ I’d said, looking at him long and hard, willing him to read my mind.
He didn’t pick up on my silent message. Perhaps that was for the best.
‘Are the guys in this city all blind or just stupid? You’re gorgeous, funny, kind and super smart. You’re a catch. These blokes are all idiots.’
You’re the idiot , I silently screamed at him. Or maybe I was, to keep on waiting for something that I should know by now was never going to happen.
Maybe today was the day when I’d finally speak up. But before I could find the courage, our attention was drawn to three teenage girls a short distance ahead of us on the path. They were gathered at the base of a towering oak tree, calling up into the high overhead branches.
One girl broke away from the group as we approached and ran towards us.
‘Please can you help us?’ she begged, frantically grabbing my arm. She looked to be no older than sixteen, and her freckled face was stained with tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘It’s Missy. My cat.’
‘Your cat is missing?’ misheard Josh.
‘Missy. Her cat’s called Missy,’ I corrected.
The girl gave me a look like she wanted to adopt me as her big sister. ‘Some morons threw a firework into our garden,’ she said, pointing towards a row of properties that backed on to the park. ‘Missy got spooked, jumped over the fence and ran up this tree, and now we can’t see her, and she won’t come down.’
Josh’s expression darkened as the girl told her tale, and he scanned the park with a new and dangerous look in his eyes. ‘Where are they? Are they still here?’
The girl shook her head. ‘No, they legged it as soon as they saw us. Can you help?’
‘Of course,’ I said, pulling my mobile from my pocket. ‘We’ll call the fire brigade for you. They sort out things like this all the time.’
The girl shook her head, and some of the confidence she’d placed in us faded from her eyes.
‘We’ve already done that, but they said it might be a while. And Missy needs help now. What if she’s hurt?’
‘I’m sure she’s not,’ Josh said, already slipping his arms out of his jacket and passing it to me.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, afraid I knew the answer to that one by the way he was staring up into the tree and searching for footholds.
‘I’m going to climb up the tree and get the cat,’ he said.
The three young girls looked at him, and collectively sighed.
‘Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,’ cried Missy’s young owner.
Josh flashed her a quick smile, which was cut short when I laid my hand on his forearm, stopping him.
‘Don’t even think about climbing this tree. You’ll fall and break your neck.’
Josh looked into the upper branches, as though that thought hadn’t even occurred to him.
‘No, I won’t. You know better than anyone how many trees I’ve climbed.’
‘This is different. You’re older now.’
‘Lily, I’m twenty-four, not eighty-four. I’m pretty sure I can still manage a simple tree like this.’
‘There are men on the way with extendible ladders and proper cat-rescuing equipment. Why can’t we just wait for them?’
‘Because Minnie needs us.’
‘It’s Missy,’ I corrected. But Josh wasn’t listening. He was enjoying the chance to save the day and nothing I said was going to stop him. He turned towards the oak, but before reaching for a lower branch, he spun back and pressed a quick hard kiss on my lips. ‘That’s just in case I do fall,’ he said with a grin.
My neck was aching from staring up into the tree when Josh finally called down that he’d found the cat, a comment that was quickly followed by a loud yowl from a clearly terrified Missy, and a swear word that was definitely not age-appropriate for Josh’s new adoring fan club.
It was all a bit of a blur after that. The leaves shuddered and the cat shot back down the tree, travelling at warp speed across the grass and back into her own garden. She was followed by the three teenagers. A few minutes later Josh reappeared, with leaves and bits of twig in his hair and two long bloody scratches on his forearm, a gift from the cat who’d never needed rescuing after all.
‘Ouch! That stings .’
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ I said, pressing a cotton pad drenched in TCP on to his scratches. ‘This is what happens when you try to pretend you’re Superman.’
Josh grinned at that.
‘I was trying to impress you with my superhero skills. Did it work?’
‘No,’ I said. But it had, and I had a strong feeling he knew that.