Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
The very next day, I find myself back in London. Specifically, in fact, I find myself in Wimbledon. This time I came on the train, because I had the sneaking suspicion that whatever happens next, I might not be in a fit state to drive. I could be too emotional, or too distracted, or possibly so drunk I forget my own name. The journey to London took just over two and a half hours, and then onwards via the Tube.
I arrived here a little while ago, but called in to a coffee shop on the high street first. I needed a few moments to get my head together, and to give myself a final chance to chicken out. Part of me really, really wants to chicken out – to go running back home with my tail between my legs, and forget all about Zack Harris and the chaos he has brought into my formerly calm life.
I know, though, that if I do I won’t like myself very much. I waited for a call back last night, but it never came. I consoled myself with a rather fine crumble, but it didn’t take the pain away. I’m deeply unhappy with how things have gone, and I need to make those feelings understood. Face to face. Even if it’s just a totally cringeworthy encounter where Zack looks horrified to see me and threatens to take out a restraining order, I need to do it. If I don’t, then I’ll struggle to move on.
I’m also aware that Marcy and Sophie are now BFFs, as the kids say, and there will probably be occasions in the future where Zack and I are in the same room. I really don’t want to ruin my daughter’s graduation ceremony by yelling at her pal’s dad. We are adults, and we need to clear the air.
I’ve found out sneakily from Marcy that he’s working from home, and plan to simply knock on his door and say ‘hi’. I’ll take it from there and see where we end up – my usual carefully crafted and perfectly sensible plan.
I pay the bill, leave a generous tip, and head purposefully down the road to Zack’s place before I change my mind.
I don’t see his car in the driveway, but there is a garage to the side so I don’t read too much into it. I stride up the steps to the handsome front door, and ring the bell. There is no answer other than Bear’s barking, and I gaze around in case it’s one of those video bells with a little camera attached – maybe he’s in there looking at the security feed, hiding from me under the kitchen table.
I give a sharp bang with the brass knocker, but there is still nothing but Bear woofing away.
“Sorry, boy!” I shout, and his bark at least subsides into a whine. Poor Bear – so near to a human he knows might have treats, and yet so far.
I’m not quite sure what to do now, and feel a bit deflated. I arrived here after a righteous march, pumped up on my own determination. I’d imagined many scenarios – him being furious, him sweeping me into his arms and kissing me, him telling me pityingly that it had all been a mistake and he’d quite like to never see me again. Somehow, though, I’d never quite imagined this far more mundane scenario – that he simply wouldn’t be at home.
I take a sneaky glance through the front windows, still half suspecting that he might be in there somewhere, and then make an annoyed hmmmph noise and plonk my backside down on the front steps.
It’s a pleasant afternoon, with a pale blue sky and enough sunshine to build up a bit of warmth on your skin when you face the right direction. The birds are singing in the trees that surround the house, and I spot an early bee buzzing around a pot of beautiful blue hyacinths. I will sit here a while, I think, and see what happens. I’ve sat in far worse places, and I have come a very long way after all.
I get out my phone, and make the most of the fantastic signal to browse random websites and send silly messages to all three of the kids. I’m content enough plugging my brain into the matrix for a while, and sit quite happily. Every now and then Bear gives me a little woof just to remind me that he’s still there.
I’ve probably been waiting for almost thirty minutes when Zack’s fancy grey Audi rolls slowly into the driveway, its wheels crunching on the gravel. I put my phone away and sit upright, suddenly feeling swamped with nerves now that he is actually here. It all seemed like a good idea until it was really happening, and I wonder if it’s too late to sneak away without him noticing.
For a minute it looks like that might be a feasible option, because he is incredibly distracted. He stays seated behind the wheel for a few moments, staring into the distance with eyes that don’t seem to be seeing anything, certainly not me. His hair is ruffled in the way it gets when he’s been running his hands through it, and his usually golden skin tone is a shade more pallid. I know I’ve been angry with Zack, but my very first thought when I see him is: what’s wrong?
I stand up, and as he climbs out of the car he freezes dead on the spot and stares at me. His green eyes go wide in surprise, and he does a double take, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. I don’t suppose I can blame him for that.
“Connie?” he says quietly, shaking his head in confusion.
“In the flesh!” I reply, walking towards him. When I get closer I see that he looks tired, with dark circles beneath his eyes. I reach up, and stroke his face, keeping my hand on his cheekbone. He leans into my palm and sighs out loud, as though he’s exhausted and ready for bed.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently. “Because you don’t seem okay.”
“I’m… getting there. This hallucination is certainly helping.”
“Well, this hallucination is desperate for a pee – any chance of popping in to use the facilities?”
“I know the feeling – you take the upstairs, I’ll take the downstairs! God, this is terrible, isn’t it? This never happens in romantic movies, two geriatrics racing to the loo!”
He manages a smile as he opens the front door, and Bear comes hurtling to greet us. Zack gives him a quick pet and heads down the hallway, and I gallop up the stairs.
A few minutes later, we reconvene in the kitchen, where I find Zack putting the kettle on. He leans against the counter, and swipes his fingers across his eyes as though he’s wiping sleep from them.
“I’m sorry,” he says simply, meeting my gaze.
“Elaborate on that, please.”
“I’m sorry I ran away like that. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’m sorry I didn’t explain. I acted like a coward, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since. I’ve been on the verge of calling you ever since, but I’ve been too much of a wimp. You deserve better, on every level. In my defence I did try and call you back last night, on your landline number, but nobody answered.”
I’m surprised at that, and wish I’d known – maybe I wouldn’t have had such an awful night. But maybe I wouldn’t have turned up like this either, and I think that needed to be done. It is also, as we both know, a bit of a cop-out.
“It was the café number, that’s why. You could have tried my mobile, couldn’t you? Or emailed me, or sent a text? There are so many ways to get in touch with someone these days, and you didn’t desperately try any of them…”
He shrugs and looks sad. “This is true. I suppose I was being a coward again, and I know you deserve an explanation.”
“You’re absolutely right, I do, that’s why I’m here. I intended to give you a piece of my mind about the way you behaved, and now you’ve gone and taken the wind out of my sails by bloody apologising straight away!”
“Well, I apologise for that as well, then. Look… it’s complicated. It’s messy.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair in that way I’m now so familiar with. “I’m giving you the opportunity right now to walk out of the door, go back home, and never think about me again. You have your apology, and if that’s enough, you’d probably be better off leaving.”
I take two mugs from a stand, and start to make us both a coffee. He seems too exhausted to do it himself.
“Well, thank you for the offer, Zack, but now I’ve had my apology, I find that I want more. Like an explanation.”
He nods, and gestures towards the garden.
“Shall we sit out? It’s warm enough.”
We head back to the table and chairs outside, and Bear gallivants behind us. He runs straight to a stone planter and cocks his leg against it. Looks like we weren’t the only ones who needed the loo.
Once we’re settled, Zack goes quiet again. The sun is glinting against the silver in his hair, and despite the fact that he’s obviously not firing on all cylinders, I can’t help but notice the way he fills out his navy blue sweater. He really is appallingly handsome – how am I supposed to stay annoyed with someone who makes me tingle like this?
When he shows no sign of speaking, I put my mug down and say: “You’re clearly not feeling good, Zack – is there anything I can do to help? Can I get you anything? Do you want to talk about whatever it is that’s affecting you?”
He shakes his head, and gives me a sweet smile that melts my heart. It’s full on eye-contact, no shying away, intense and deeply personal. The kind of smile that somehow makes me feel like we are the only two people left in the entire world.
“I don’t want to talk about it, no – but I know I should, and you’re pretty much the only person I want to talk to anyway. A few months ago, I was diagnosed with something called chronic kidney disease, which pretty much does what it says on the tin. They grade it in stages, from one to five. One is minor, five is… well, let’s just say there isn’t a six. By the time I found out, I was a three.”
The words immediately bury themselves in my brain and start to burrow around in there. Chronic kidney disease. I’m not precisely aware of what it is, but that combination cannot possibly be good. I feel my nostrils flare a little, but I hope that is the only sign of stress that I show. This is not the time to over-react. This is the time to listen.
“Okay. So, what does it mean, then? Longer term?”
“Well, that’s an interesting question. I was at the clinic when you called yesterday, and in fact I’ve just come back from seeing my nephrologist at the hospital. The night we first met, in the restaurant, you remember I was glued to my phone?”
“I do. I assumed you were bidding on a rare porcelain tea pot on eBay.”
“Ha! No, I was reading some emails I’d had about test results. Results that suggested my kidney function was declining. And then the day you were doing your practice run for the Spring Feast, and I turned up late?”
I nod, and he continues: “I’d been on the phone with the consultant to discuss it, and to make arrangements to see him again. Today, I found out that the news isn’t great. I’m now officially stage four, which means I need to start really considering the future. Four isn’t exactly a barrel-load of laughs. My back aches, I pee all the time, and I often feel sick. But if I’m lucky, things might stay like this for years – but they might not, and I was told I need to have a think about what comes next. About my options.”
“And what are they?”
“Fun stuff, like dialysis or a kidney transplant. I’m also now at increased risk of stroke, heart attack and bone disorders. For most people with this condition, it won’t get that serious. Only about one in fifty do go on to the nasty bit, apparently. I guess I’m just lucky.”
I reach out and gently push his hair back from his face. He looks unbearably sad, and I can’t stand it. I lean across the table and kiss him quickly but decisively on the lips. It seems like an effective way of reassuring him.
“And you haven’t told anybody about this?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Suddenly, so many things fall into place – his constant naps, his lack of appetite. His plan to concentrate on the work he loved rather than the work he usually did. The comments he made about his fear of leaving the girls alone. I can only imagine how much that thought has tortured him since he was diagnosed, especially after losing his wife when his daughters were so young.
“No. I’ve been stupidly macho. I have been cutting down on work, because I’ve been told to reduce stress, but other than that I’ve just carried on as normal. I didn’t want to worry the girls, and I’m just not close enough to anyone to tell them. Until I met you. I wanted to tell you, I really did – I’d just got too good at hiding it. At telling myself I’d be fine, no matter how tired I was. And then… then, Connie, I started to fall for you, and everything changed. I tried so hard not to – I even drove you to dates with other men, all the time secretly hoping that you’d hate them! I didn’t expect any of that to happen… it really wasn’t part of the plan.”
I take his hand in mine, and squeeze his fingers. Despite the terrible circumstances, my heart is thumping a little faster at hearing that he was falling for me – because, of course, Ella was right all along. Being here with him, hearing this news, I can’t deny it anymore. This is most definitely a triple L situation – for both of us, it seems. I should be rejoicing, and part of me is, but I know this is not anywhere near simple for either of us.
“I felt the same, Zack,” I say. “And I had no clue at all what was going on in your mind, so congrats on being an Oscar-level actor. It wasn’t part of my plan either, but I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you since you left. I felt terrible, mainly because I’d opened up to you and then it seemed like you’d rejected me.”
“It wasn’t that at all, Connie – I desperately wanted to stay. To be with you. To enjoy your company. To confide in you. Also, to be honest, to pick up where we left off on the canoodling front…”
“Canoodling? That’s a fantastic way of putting it!”
“It is, isn’t it?”
We both smile, and it feels good to share that moment of light-heartedness with him.
“So, why did you leave? If you didn’t want to?”
“Well, I guess there were a couple of reasons. I have to admit I was scared. I’ve dated quite a few women in recent years, but none of them scared me before. Except maybe for Simone the yoga instructor, she was terrifying. But you… you were real. We were real. I could see myself staying with you, building a life with you. That was overwhelming, because I’m not entirely sure what my life is going to look like in the future. And I didn’t want to do that to you.”
“Do what to me?”
“I felt like there was a real connection between us, Connie. I could imagine us together in the same way I was together with Rowena – heart and body and soul. Did you feel any of that, or am I imagining it?”
I shake my head. Of course he wasn’t imagining it. I’d felt every one of those things, much as I’d tried to fight it. I’d fallen for Zack in exactly the same way, and can completely understand how scary it felt for him because it was the same for me. When he left in the sudden way he did, I was convinced that everything had been one-sided – that it was only me who was feeling like that. Hearing him say otherwise is making me feel giddy and excited and thrilled, but all of that is tempered by the fact that he still looks so very sad. This should feel like a happy exchange, and yet it doesn’t.
“You weren’t imagining it, Zack. I felt the same. I do feel the same. What I’m not quite sure about is why you didn’t tell me. Why you left the way you did.”
He nods and strokes my palms with his fingers, a delicate and intimate touch that almost undoes me.
“Fear. Not just fear about finally meeting a woman I could love after years of keeping my heart locked away – but fear about the future, and what effect it could have on you. I know what you went through when you lost Simon. I know because I went through the same. I couldn’t bear the thought of us being together when the future is so uncertain. I couldn’t bear the thought of you finally loving someone again, only to lose them again. It didn’t feel fair. I hated the idea of us moving forward, only for you to end up with a man stuck in a sick bed – a burden. A man who might not even be around for long. It was too much to ask of you. I know I should have handled it differently, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”
He looks devastated, on the verge of tears, and I drag my chair round so we are next to each other. I pull him into my arms and stroke his hair, soothing him and consoling him. There is a lot to unpack here, a lot to think about. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t have a good point – the way I feel about Zack has already shown me how hard I find being vulnerable. The thought of loving him, of being fully committed to him, and then losing him to sickness? I’m not going to assume that I can cope with that. I am not superhuman, and I know how much that loss hurts.
But for now, none of that matters – for now, the only thing I need to do is make him feel better. Give him the comfort he needs. Provide him with some respite, even if it’s only for a night. Tomorrow, as they say, is another day.
I pull back from our hug, and look him in the eyes.
“It’s okay, I forgive you. Forget about that now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ve been spending too much time alone, dealing with all of this. Human brains don’t cope well with that kind of pressure. You need a break. So, here’s the plan – you’re going to go up to bed and have one of your famous world-class naps. I’m going to make us some dinner in your disgustingly tidy kitchen. Then we are going to talk about all of this, and you are going to be honest and open and share all the gory details.”
He pulls a face and says: “Do I have to?”
“Yes. It’s absolutely essential. But then, after our dinner, we will stop talking about it. If you have the energy, we will take Bear for a little walk, and then we will come back here. We will settle down on the sofa, and we will put blankets over our knees like the old people we almost are, and we will watch the telly. Because in our world, that is an exciting night.”
He laughs, and I see some of the sparkle coming back into his eyes.
“Okay, boss. Sounds like a plan. But what will we watch?”
“Doh! We’ll watch Paddington 2 , obviously – have you not been paying attention?”
He nods, stands up and stretches his arms above his head. He seems to be feeling a bit better. Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the simple relief of finally telling someone, I don’t know.
I stand up to join him, and he throws his arm around my shoulders. He drops a gentle kiss on top of my curls, and says: “And after the film? Will you be going home?”
I can tell that he is trying to keep his voice neutral. I suspect he doesn’t want to put any pressure on me to stay. He must have spent countless nights alone in this house, trying to think his way through his situation. Zack is the kind of man who is used to being able to control things, to find solutions and fixes, and this must have been torture for him. A health problem like this would be a nightmare for any of us, but dealing with it all alone? So much worse.
“I won’t be going home, no, Zack. I’m so sorry, but you’re stuck with me for the night.”
“What about the café?”
“What about it? The world isn’t going to explode if I don’t fire up the coffee machine in the morning. There won’t be a day of national mourning if I’m not around to provide pain au chocolat to the citizens of Starshine Cove.”
“I’m not so sure about that… but thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. The thought of another night staring at these walls and worrying was driving me mad.”
“Well, no need for that now. I can drive you mad instead.”