Chapter 54
Adam
I wake up the next morning to Old Sausage pawing at my chest. It’s early; the light is just beginning to filter through the curtains.
I make a coffee, and then another coffee, and then another. I watch the clock until nine, and then get on my bike and pedal over to Hugh’s, purposefully going the long way so I don’t have to cycle past Eve’s house.
Hugh is having a wash when I arrive, so I wait outside until he’s done. It’s cooler today, so once he’s ready, I take him outside for a walk around the garden.
‘Have I got an update and a half for you, pal,’ I say as I push him down the ramp into the shaded woodland area. I park him up next to a bench under a large oak tree and sit down heavily next to him. He looks around happily, and I feel a sudden urge to hold him tight, squeeze him to me and never let him go.
I focus on my story.
‘Right, so there’s this girl, called Eve. I think I’ve mentioned her.’ I tell him everything, about how Old Sausage came to visit us both, and how we united to try and get her home. How we went on an adventure to the Lake District, and spent the night together, and how she spoke to me and shared herself, even though I could tell it was hard. I tell him about how I liked her, but she never felt anything for me at all. ‘I told her about Mum and Dad,’ I say. ‘Do you know what she said?’
Hugh doesn’t answer; he’s mesmerised by the dancing light on the floor as the sun filters through the leaves.
‘She said, “shit”.’ I laugh.
Hugh laughs too, and I ruffle his hair. ‘Shit indeed, eh? But we’ve got each other, haven’t we? I’ll get over it.’
We set off again, walking around the flowerbeds and enjoying the fresh air until the sky begins to darken and foreign-looking clouds mill above our heads. The temperature drops, and I wrap my coat around Hugh’s shoulders as the wind picks up. As we turn out of the gardens, I am conscious of the weight of my phone in my pocket, of wanting it to vibrate. I have to keep reminding myself that she doesn’t want me. That even if she does respond to my message, it doesn’t mean anything.
We pass Hugh’s window, and Becky waves from where she’s changing the beds. Hugh shrieks delightedly, and she laughs.
Back inside, we get Hugh set up in the day room, where they’re doing a sensory stimulation session. Freshly cut flowers, trays of paint and twinkling lights are dotted around the space, and Hugh is instantly delighted. I intend to stay and join in, but Becky asks if she can have a word, so we go into Hugh’s room, a familiar panic washing over me.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ she says, catching sight of my face. ‘I just wanted to show you something.’
She reaches up to the top of the wardrobe, and my heart sinks.
‘Any idea where this has come from?’ She holds up the camera.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, but then I stop myself. Why am I sorry? What have I done wrong? I’m looking out for my brother; it’s the one thing I should never apologise for. ‘I had to.’
A half-smile tugs at Becky’s lips. ‘Adam, I get it. Hugh’s a very lucky man.’
I look at her. ‘Thanks. He’s really lucky to have you, too. Until you jet off to Dubai.’
She shakes her head. ‘I think I’ve changed my mind. Doing this... it’s different to regular nursing. I’m thinking of specialising in brain injury care, working my way up to sister.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone better for the job,’ I say, nudging her. ‘Look at how Hugh is with you. I think he loves you more than he loves me.’
Her cheeks redden, and she looks away, her eyes landing on Hugh’s bed. Hei Hei lies abandoned on his pillow, all but forgotten. ‘It’s funny,’ Becky says, ‘we all need change sometimes, don’t we?’
I stare at the TV, where Frozen is paused, Moana a distant memory.
‘Yeah,’ I agree, a thought forming in my mind. ‘Yeah, I think we do.’
My phone buzzes in my pocket and my hand flies for it. Becky raises her eyebrows.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my eyes searching the screen. 1 new message from Eve Cat Neighbour. It vibrates again, and the number of messages grows. Dopamine floods my brain at the familiarity of it. ‘I have to get this.’
She smiles. ‘No worries. See you later?’
‘Yes, sorry, thanks, Becky. Sorry,’ I blather, my head spinning. As soon as she’s gone, I unlock my phone.
No need to apologise
I’m sorry I was so rude
I know what you meant, if it’s worth anything
About Windermere
But you’re right, it’s best we don’t pursue it
I’m not right for you, and I’m happy you’re making a go of things with Chloe again
See you around for cat chats hopefully
The pieces fall into my brain slowly at first, and then in a sudden rush. Oh, god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Me and Chloe, in the garden. She must have seen. She must have assumed...
The Tryst notification. I never told her Katie’s name. I went to her house and told her I didn’t want to be involved in another relationship that involved cheating. She’ll have put it all together and come up with...
Oh god .
* * *
As I cycle home, the sky breaks in two.
A fork of lightning illuminates the path in front of me, bleaching everything white for the tiniest instant. And then, just moments later, an ear-splitting crack vibrates the air around me, and the heavens open.
I am drenched within seconds, my shirt stuck to my back and my shoes full of water, and the path through the park becomes a grey sludge of weeks of uninterrupted, sun-baked dust. I wipe my eyes with one hand, my feet slipping on the pedals, and almost fall, righting myself at the last second.
The smell of first rain is everywhere: that musky, clarifying freshness. I feel suddenly like I’ve just woken up, like the water has washed something from my eyes.
I emerge from the park onto the street — I should slow down, there are sun-dress-clad pedestrians running in every direction, their sandals slapping — and push down harder, skidding round corners. I can’t stop; this is important, I have somewhere to be.
As the rain chills my skin, a fire burns in my chest.
We all need change sometimes, don’t we?
By the time I arrive, my heart is pounding. I sling my bike against the railings, clumsily fastening it with the lock, and then run up the path and hammer on the door.