Chapter 22
The two of them sat in the waiting room.
A crooked Christmas tree was up in the corner, with threadbare tinsel, chipped baubles and fairy lights.
She hadn’t put hers up last year. This December she would.
She couldn’t become like Dad, who’d given up on everything when the divorce had gone through.
It’d felt understandable that first year, but after that he only made an effort, with clothes, with going out, with birthdays, with Christmas decorations, if a woman was on the scene and he’d wanted to impress.
It made Lili sad that he didn’t think he deserved to make an effort just for himself.
She told Dylan to go back to Tavistock, but he insisted on staying.
She’d been through triage and had various tests done to check for concussion, to examine her eyesight, her limbs and torso.
And bloods had been taken to determine if a CT scan was necessary.
The nurse was satisfied enough not to admit Lili, seeing as she’d walked into the hospital unaided, her confusion had cleared and her hip and wrist only twinged a little. The fall hadn’t covered much distance.
Feeling more like her old self by the minute, she’d started chatting.
‘Tell me about the family business,’ she said to Dylan. ‘Did you and Harry ever want to do something else?’
‘No! We’d been grateful for well-paid jobs whilst friends were struggling to find employment, struggling with bills. And we’d never move away from Devon. Love it here. Love working together – well, speaking for myself, anyway.’ He gave a wry smile.
Lili nodded. ‘I still miss Manchester but would miss Cornwall too if I moved back up north.’
Their chat moved onto the Vegas trip, the pools at the hotel, the shops and food hall, and Lili explained why she wouldn’t go now.
‘Not without Em,’ she said firmly and then fell into silence. Dylan didn’t mention Harry. Perhaps he hadn’t contacted him about the trip yet.
A man with a grey beard stained with blood lounged opposite them, his arm in a make-shift sling.
A couple sat next to him, the woman with a plastic bowl on her lap, eyes blotchy, her companion with his arm around her.
Another man sat on his own, half asleep, stinking of beer and pot. He didn’t look much older than Rosie.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Dylan, his eyes searching her face, concern etched across his features. ‘No headache?’
‘I’m fine, Dr Davis,’ she said. ‘Honestly. No need to worry. I’m wasting everyone’s time. I definitely didn’t faint. I slipped on your anorak.’
‘Us doctors have to tick all the boxes and I… I was really worried, Lili.’ His voice hitched the tiniest bit.
But why would he care so much? Guilt perhaps.
Guilt was a bastard. That feeling Lili got when she thought about the houseboat party and how she should have insisted on going with Em; how she could have reminded her not to drink loads on top of her painkillers and therefore stopped her from falling into the sea.
Dylan’s nose wrinkled as the woman vomited. ‘We could do with one of your incense sticks,’ he said as if forcing his tone to be brighter. He glanced at Lili. ‘Do you mind me asking… Did I interrupt some sort of… religious meeting?’
‘What? No! Well, I mean, some might call it that but not me.’ He wouldn’t understand. Old objects to him were just trash. ‘So, did you message Harry?’ she asked, keen to change the subject.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, now I’m even more intrigued. You weren’t having an orgy, were you? Have to say that guy’s biker jacket was a bit of a turn-on, and he seemed pretty chuffed.’
‘Stop being a jerk,’ she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so tight.
He smiled uneasily. ‘Fair enough. Harry… yep, I did. Sorry, I should have said. I managed to get hold of him yesterday.’
Lili nodded, wondering why it had taken so long. Harry had a phone.
‘He’s really grateful for your offer and gutted he can’t take you up on it. He’s made friends along the way and they’re off to… Vietnam. It’s cheap, welcoming and really scenic apparently.’
What was she going to do with the hotel booking?
She’d asked for the time off work way in advance, over a year ago – Ware she wasn’t embarrassed about her freedom ceremonies.
Lili had simply become tired, over the years, of explaining to people who were taking the piss.
Not that Dylan would ever do that. He was thoughtful and caring, having sat with her for hours in hospital. They pulled up outside her cottage.
‘Want to come in for a hot drink? There’s that lovely pie you brought over,’ she said.
‘Better not. Work tomorrow. Would you like me to help you inside?’
‘No. I’d like you to accept my apology.’
His eyebrows knotted together.
‘You asked me what I was doing this afternoon.’
‘What? Lili, seriously, I was just being nosy, ignore me. Look…’ He sighed.
‘If I’ve been quiet, it was due to talking about Harry.
I… I was hoping he’d be home soon, but now I find out he’s off to Vietnam.
His trip has made me realise how I’ve depended on him over the years in so many ways – maybe at the expense of making other good friends. ’
They looked at each other. She leant forward and gave him a hug, to her surprise with purely platonic motives, wanting to convey her understanding.
‘You’re amazing, you know?’ he said. ‘I mean, Em is gone forever but you can still sympathise with me. The last year must have been shit.’
He looked so sad. Genuinely. Dylan understood, or at least he was trying to.
‘A freedom ceremony,’ she blurted out. ‘That’s what this afternoon was about. A kind of funeral for inanimate objects.’
Dylan burst out laughing. ‘Come on, Lili. You’re not still confused, are you? Or am I still your gladiator?’
Shit. She was hoping he’d forgotten that.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. The fall clearly caused that confusion, due to me loving historical Netflix dramas.
’ Dylan’s laughter wasn’t vicious, or sneery like some people, and to be fair, laughing had been her first reaction.
‘I got the idea for the ceremony after visiting Japan, and it made sense with the work I do.’ She explained about the ceremonies she’d heard of whilst visiting Tokyo and Kyoto, and the customers in Ware that is there was no changing a decision; that a point of no return had been reached.
Lili hugged her knees. Her heart was reaching that point with Dylan, feelings she’d never felt before that were proving hard to dismiss. Alea Iacta est , indeed.
A text alert buzzed. It was from him.
Express House Clearances quietens down in December and I’m well overdue some holiday.
How about I take a trip to Vegas instead?
I’d be doing it for Harry (that’s what I’ll tell him, me being utterly unselfish).
I’d pay for my room, of course, so your loss wouldn’t be so great, and you could laugh at me when I come back to the UK, having gambled away the rest of my money in the gaming machines.
The text ended with a leaf emoji, and her heart skipped a beat.