Chapter Twenty-one
‘Kat! Kat!’ The voice is indistinct and sounds far away.
My eyes flicker open then closed.
‘Kat!’ Dexter?
‘Kat! Oígame .’ Federica?
My eyes flutter open and this time I turn my head to the side as the light is so bright it hurts.
‘She’s coming round.’ Dexter. ‘Ella, can you go grab some ice and a cloth from the kitchen, please?’
His steady, assured voice calms me slightly. What’s going on? Why do I need ice? Why do I feel dizzy? I start to splutter and warm hands turn me on my side as Dexter says, ‘Federica, can you fetch a glass of water, please?’
Moments later, something cold presses against my head. It’s both welcome and painful. I can’t even work out if it’s the ice or the cloth Dexter spoke of.
Ella’s gentle voice speaks to me. ‘You’re OK, Kat. You’ve had a nasty bump to the head, but a bit of rest and you’ll be fine.’
‘Bump? Head?’
Like a tsunami, the details come flooding back: Dexter, Roisin, her inappropriate behaviour, her slamming the door open and me not getting out of the way in time. That’ll be why they say eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves.
Eventually, I sit up, and despite being dazed, with some help from Javier and Dexter, I manage to stand, although my legs are as wobbly as those of a newborn foal.
‘Let’s sit her in my office,’ Dexter says. ‘Ella can keep an eye on her. We’ll let her rest later, but for now, we have to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion. We can’t allow her to fall asleep.’
Javier agrees, and between them, they half-support, half-carry me into the office, where they sit me on the old beat-up leather sofa, which is remarkably comfy. Much more so than sitting cross-legged on the floor, back bent over files.
Once I’m in position, Dexter says, ‘Ella, I’ll check in periodically, but let me know if there are any problems. I have my walkie-talkie.’ He gestures to his hip.
Ella nods. ‘No problem. I’ll keep an eye on her.’
When the guys leave, Ella ensures I’m OK before she sits down in the midst of the piles of paperwork on the floor. ‘You gave us quite a scare.’
I try to nod, but it hurts.
‘No, keep still. I’ll do the talking. You can tell me everything later. Rest, but don’t sleep, got it?’
I clear my throat in confirmation.
‘Were you just trying to outdo me in the egg-on-the-head stakes?’
I raise a tiny smile as she makes eye contact, but I remember not to shake my head.
‘Well, I think you’ve won the trophy for it anyway. Right, I’m going to crack on– no pun intended– and just grunt or something if you’re not OK. Got it?’
I clear my throat again.
An hour later, it’s lunchtime and I’m feeling a little better. Sitting still and regrouping with Ella has done the trick. I’ll still need to take it easy for the rest of the day, but I can manage to get up and down without feeling like I’m about to keel over. My stomach’s also rumbling.
‘Someone’s hungry.’ Ella laughs. ‘Do you think you could keep something down? It might do you some good and it’s enyucados today.’
‘I’ll give it a try as otherwise I’m going to keep rumbling. Are these enyucados light?’
Ella grins. ‘Not exactly. You’ll see. Depends how many you eat. It’s cassava balls with cheese, butter and eggs.’
My stomach rumbles again. Guess I’m having enyucados .
The canteen is half full when we enter and as I take my plate from Sofia, she comments on the bruising that has come out on my head. Since I haven’t looked in a mirror, instead washing my hands in the small wash-hand basin in Dexter’s office, I had no idea. Sofia holds up a silver serving spoon and I frown.
‘So you can check out your reflection.’
‘Ah.’ I peer into the spoon and recoil at the ugly black bruise that has already formed. ‘You might have told me I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein,’ I mutter to Ella.
She laughs. ‘I’ll tell Dexter you’re calling him Frankenstein.’
I give her a slight push. ‘Shh, he’ll hear you.’ I glance around. ‘On that note, where is he?’
Ella shrugs. ‘No idea. C’mon. The enyucados will get cold quickly and they’re my favourite.’
We sit next to Alejandro– no Roisin, I note– and dig in to our plates of enyucados . I can see why they’re Ella’s favourite. They’ve clearly been deep-fried, but although they’re crunchy on the outside, the inside is soft and gooey cheese.
Roisin enters with Luciana and her face is as dark as the sky on a rainy day. You know the bit before the clouds burst and the deluge occurs? That. I suddenly realise she wasn’t around when I came to after being hit on the head by the door, yet she was the one who hit me with it. My animosity towards her ratchets up two notches.
She glowers at me as she sits down. If she clenches her jaw any more, she’s going to need serious dental work. I’m guessing she’s not impressed at the knowledge I caught her in flagrante , after a fashion, instead of Dexter.
But I don’t let her spoil my meal.
In the afternoon, I sit in the nursery, taking it easy with Luciana for a bit, giving the baby sloths their milk. It’s so relaxing and I catch myself about to drift off a few times. Each of the girls is taking it in turns to ensure I’m definitely OK and not about to pass out at their feet. It’s kind of sweet. Dexter also checks in every now and again, but we haven’t had time to have a talk, and I can’t read him enough to know if we have a shot at sorting things between us. Hopefully, yes, but men are strange creatures. Unpredictable in some areas, whilst predictable to a fault in others.
I’m flagging long before the workday is done and when I see Mariangeles in the rec room in our accommodation block, I say, ‘I’m going to skip dinner. I’m still full from the yu-covados?’ I’ve already forgotten the name.
‘En-yu-ca-dos,’ she corrects me. ‘Yes, they’re very filling, and delicious. Only Nicolás’ mum makes them better, but please don’t tell Sofia.’
I smile then make a zipping motion across my lips, sealing them shut.
‘See you in the morning. Get some rest.’ She hugs me but manages to bump my head with her shoulder.
When I startle at the contact, she apologises. ‘ ?Ay! Sorry. I’m so clumsy. Right, I’ll go before I inflict any further damage.’
An hour or so later, I’m reclining on three pillows and the book I was reading has slipped down the side of the bed as I begin to doze, when there’s a rap at the door.
‘It’s open,’ I mumble. I bet Federica or Ella has brought me a plate of food after all. Honestly, you’d think I need feeding up. I promise, I’m hardly fading away here.
The door opens and Dexter stands framed in the doorway, wearing navy cargo pants and a light blue T-shirt. I straighten up then try to tidy the covers on my bed, which is pointless really; he’s seen the state of it already.
‘Hi.’ His eyes study me as if he’s looking for a sign of some kind, but of what I’m not sure.
‘Hi,’ I reply. Well, I was right about one thing. When he doesn’t say anything else, I ask, ‘Is that for me?’ I gesture to the covered plate he’s holding.
He sighs. ‘Yes, sorry, Sofia insisted. She didn’t want you going hungry.’
I smile. ‘Here? As if.’
He grins and it melts my heart. I gulp as I think of how to get us around to the topic we sorely need to discuss. I can’t put it off any longer. Catastrophes, in all senses, keep happening the more I delay it.
‘Dexter, I just wanted to tell you I’m so sorry I jumped to conclusions.’ There’s no need to say ‘with Roisin’, and I can’t bring myself to utter her name.
He nods mutely. This is going well… I have no idea if he has any intention of us trying for a reconciliation or not. He’s not exactly making this easy for me.
When the silence stretches out between us, I finally say, ‘Oh, you can put the plate down on the bedside table there.’ Then I realise that makes me sound like I’m talking to a waiter. Gah, why is this so difficult? Relationships should come with a handbook, an encyclopaedia-sized one, so we don’t screw things up.
A hint of a smile escapes his lips. He’s had the same thought about acting as waiter, no doubt.
But when he has set the plate down, he moves towards me and slowly raises his fingertips to my forehead. I prepare to recoil. It hurt when Mariangeles bumped it earlier. I imagine it will still do.
However, the featherlight caress of Dexter’s fingertips over my bruise is such that I feel no pain at all. Then he bends over and trails gentle kisses over my bruise and the rest of my forehead, before adjusting position slightly, moving back to search my eyes for permission before he leans forward again, but this time his lips meet mine, and it’s like every moment has been leading up to this. We’ve had our false starts, we’ve slept together, now we’ve had our first misunderstanding, fight and falling-out, and this is where we kiss and make up. And I’m all for that.
As Dexter deepens our kiss, I shuffle back on the bed towards the wall so he has room to sit down, then he puts his arms around me and the sensation of his heart beating as fast as my own is all I need. No words. No explanations. Just actions.