Chapter Forty
With the crutches the hospital provided way over on the other side of the room, I very much hope that River is planning to take a short stroll around the block to clear his head and then return.
But after two hours with no sign of him, I have to face the fact that unless I figure out a way to get to the bathroom, I will be topping off the most insane couple of weeks of my life by pissing myself in bed.
And while I can and have endured much embarrassment in my life, I don’t think I could recover from that.
It occurs to me to shout as loudly as possible for Mrs Casablancas, but then I remember that I took my spare key back from her after she used it to come in unannounced and almost caught me doing solo Christina Aguilera karaoke after a few too many Tucci concoctions.
I stare mournfully at my phone. Still in a coma, still stuck in rice, a small bouquet of buttercups River assembled at its side.
I’m just going to have to help myself.
The best of the morphine has now worn off and my ankle is throbbing horribly.
Muttering a series of curse words I’ve never before said in my life to help ease the pain, I use my arms to slide myself down off the bed and onto the floor of my apartment.
I try to keep the towel wrapped around me but as I slide down the side of the bed it gets caught up in the duvet and by the time I reach the floor I am naked.
‘Maaan.’
With a sigh, I slowly begin my nude bum-shuffle across the floor towards the bathroom, pondering, as I do, whether I did the right thing by not telling River about Cassidy’s plans.
Historically, in an argument, I immediately think that I’m in the wrong, but something in me feels different these days.
More sure of myself. And while I hate that I upset River, I conclude that I did the right thing in keeping it to myself.
All my accidental revelation has done is cause a whole lot of worry and strife that is literally impossible to fix until I finish this book.
And the simple fact is, no matter how strong my connection with Cassidy feels right now, we don’t one hundred per cent know how accurate I am.
Surely the most important thing here is that we get River back home in one piece?
‘Ow. Ow. Crap. Ow,’ I grunt as each shuffle brings me closer to my final destination. Once in the bathroom I use what I realise now is embarrassingly feeble upper body strength to haul myself up, squeaking in pain as I do. Finally, in a most undignified way, I manage to make it onto the loo.
There.
I did it.
Independent woman right here. Josie would be proud of my oomph. And probably quite embarrassed on my behalf.
It takes about another fifteen minutes and some very strange noises to manoeuvre myself back onto the floor without knocking my ankle.
By the time I’ve managed it I’m sweating buckets.
With a growl of frustration I start my bum-shuffling back towards the bed, noticing as I go that I really do need to be better about cleaning under the sofa.
To my relief, I hear the sound of keys jangling from outside the door.
‘Thank God,’ I mutter, lying back against the wall.
But when the door opens, the person who enters the flat is not just River. It is a rather sozzled-looking River accompanied by … Aled the Librarian?
‘Look away!’ I scream as Aled catches sight of me on the floor and turns bright red. ‘I’m indecent, look away, Aled!’
Aled immediately turns to face the wall. ‘Gosh,’ he says quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘Gosh.’
‘What the sweet hell you up to down there?’ River mumbles, dropping the Sainsbury’s bag he’s holding, stomping over to where I’m stranded, lifting me up and wonkily laying me back onto the bed, where I immediately cover myself with the duvet and two cushions – a sort of modesty pillow fort.
‘Are you drunk?’ I eyeball River. I’ve seen this man neck enormous amounts of whisky and beer and not once appear as inebriated as he does right now.
‘That would be my fault,’ Aled admits in his warm Yorkshire burr, turning around from the wall to throw me an apologetic grimace. ‘River came to the library as I was finishing up. Seemed quite down in the doldrums so I thought I’d take him for a pint. Which turned into, well, multiple pints.’
‘What on earth has he been drinking?’ I ask. River vaguely indicates that Aled should take a seat, before picking up his Sainsbury’s bag and staggering over to the kitchen with it.
‘Guinness,’ Alex says contritely. ‘Four pints of Guinness.’
River turns around, eyes bright. ‘Have you tried Guinness, Owl? It is a magical elixir. Like … like a velvety beer milkshake.’
‘And then we started chatting to a bunch of physics students who introduced him to, er, Aftershock shots.’
‘Oh God.’ I cover my mouth. I haven’t done an Aftershock shot since I was nineteen years old. They are lethal.
River fishes into his bag and pulls out a box of Auntie’s Delicious Spotted Dick.
‘Yeah,’ Aled winces. ‘After the second one he started asking everyone to find him a portal? Some of the physics students were happy to engage in the discussion, but when River said he was looking for a way to get back to his own dimension I thought, well, this man is pickled and it might be best to see him home.’
‘Wow,’ I breathe, feigning ignorance as to why River might be spouting such nonsense … ‘Yikes. Well, thank you, Aled. That was kind of you to see him home.’
‘It’s sort of my thing,’ he tells me with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Local pisshead delivery service. I wasn’t going to come all the way in, but River very kindly—’
‘I invited Aled in for dessert,’ River reveals, taking the two puddings out of the microwave and tipping them messily into a couple of bowls.
‘And I accepted because I am a little peckish, to be honest with you.’ Aled takes the steaming bowl from River, tucking into the dessert with gumption.
River plops heavily down onto the armchair, the weight of him making the floor shudder a little. He glances around the room, golden brows furrowed, eyes unfocused. ‘Where’s Squish? Where’s my good boy?’
‘He’s at home with Mrs Casablancas tonight, remember, River?’ I lower my voice to Aled. ‘Jesus. How many Aftershocks was it?’
Aled bites his lip. ‘I lost count after three.’
‘I miss Squish,’ River grumbles, spooning the pudding into his mouth like he’s not eaten for days. ‘I think I might even love him. You hear that, Gertie?’ he says, leaning forward in the chair. ‘I might love a CHUG.’ He buries his face in his hands. ‘Chug ain’t even a real dog breed!’
‘My wife Frida wants a Pomapoo,’ Aled chimes in. ‘A Pomeranian crossed with a poodle!’
River stands up suddenly, zigzagging over to the kitchen and dropping his empty bowl into the sink. Then he collects Aled’s bowl – which he’s still eating from – and dumps that in the sink too.
On his wobbly journey back to the armchair he catches sight of himself in the mirror and stops to stare into it, nose pressed right up against the glass.
‘Who am I?’ he mutters mournfully. ‘I no longer recognise myself.’ Then he turns to me.
‘You see, Gertie, this is why my mom always told me to stay tough and guard my heart. You let someone in for barely a lick of time and they change you. One moment you’re the toughest man in town.
A man living a simple life. A true, hardworking simple life.
Does it set your heart aflame? No. But it’s good enough and that’s as lucky as any man can ask for.
And then BAM! Next moment you love a Chug dog, you’re wearing a sparkling Stetson, you’re eating custard creams and dick, and you’re making best friends with a librarian. ’
Aled pops a finger into the air. ‘That’s a very kind offer of best friendship, River, but I already have two best friends. I will, however, see what they think about adding another to the cohort.’
‘I’ve been … I’ve been domesticated,’ River cries, flinging his arms wide as he moves around the room, getting into his stride.
‘I am literally, literally, mind you, all hat and no cattle. And what’s worse …
I … I like it. I’ve got no chance back in Bedlam.
I’ll be laughed out of town for being a sap.
’ He spins dramatically to face Aled. ‘Promise me, Aled, if we never see each other again, promise me, buddy, you will always protect your heart.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Aled answers politely. ‘I play squash every week and I’m quite mindful of my cholesterol, the odd spotted dick aside. It’s all about balance, you see.’
River narrows his eyes at me before yawning a huge, loud yawn that echoes around the room. ‘And you, Gertie? You better believe that I, River Maverick Oakley, will be sleeping beneath the stars this evening.’
‘Maverick?’ I yell gleefully, pressing a hand over my mouth quickly because River is clearly very drunk and very emotional. And to be fair to him, he’s done well to have lasted this long without having a total meltdown, all things considered.
‘Yeah,’ he says, looking me right in the eye and swaying a little to the left, a defiant expression on his face. ‘Maverick.’
He clomps his way to the door and pauses halfway, crouching down to grab one of Mrs Casablancas’ cushions from the sofa. ‘Look what you’ve done to me, Gertie,’ he mutters irritably. ‘I can no longer sleep without the comfort of a fluffy pillow. And that’s on you.’
As he leaves the room, the sound of his heavy boots thumping up the stairs towards the rooftop, Aled and I stare after him wide-eyed.
‘Wow. That was …’
‘Definitely something,’ Aled says, looking even more awkward now that River has left the room and he is alone with just me, wearing nothing but my bed linen. ‘Blimey.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’ I grimace. ‘There is … quite a lot going on right now. River and I—’
‘Had a disagreement. He told me.’
‘He told you?’
‘He told me lots of things, but only some of them made sense. I’m afraid he really did not react well to the Guinness and Aftershocks.
Anyway!’ He slaps his hands decidedly against his thighs.
‘Frida will be wondering where I am. I should bob off back home before she gets worried.’ Standing up from the sofa, he brushes down his brown cord trousers and grabs my crutches from the opposite end of the room, slotting them up against the bookshelf next to the bed.
‘I expect these will make getting to the bathroom a little easier.’
‘Thank you,’ I sigh, giving him a grateful smile. ‘Do you think I should try to go up there?’ I point to the ceiling. ‘Make sure he’s okay?’
‘You know, I’d let him cool off.’ Aled glances upwards. ‘In fact, I’d bet he’s already zonked out.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. River is …’ I trail off, not able to find the right word to explain exactly what River is.
‘River is just a cowboy in love,’ Aled finishes, an indulgent expression on his face. ‘Big bruiser like that. It’s quite something to see.’
‘A cowboy in love?’ I blurt back, confused. ‘In love with who?’
Aled eyes me like I’m the one who just revealed my middle name is Maverick. ‘Well, you, Gertie. You daft duck.’
I blink rapidly, a nervous little laugh popping out against my will. ‘What? When? Why … why would you say something like that? Did he … he didn’t say something did he? What?’
Aled shakes his head. ‘He doesn’t have to. I just spent two hours drinking with the man. The evidence is all there.’ Aled does a little bow of adieu. ‘Anyway. I hope to see you very soon at the library. Perhaps you could do an author event sometime?’
‘Yeah, definitely,’ I say vaguely, waving a goodbye as Aled exits, my entire brain now full of only four words.
A cowboy in love.