CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Xander had said.
I’ve been trying so hard to make it up to you.
I finally fell asleep that night, exhausted, after raking over in my mind every conversation we’d ever had... every smile Xander had ever given me... every kiss we’d shared...
And I still didn’t know.
Had there been guilt present in everything he’d said and done?
Had he been feeling sorry for me every time he insisted on paying for me?
Had my night at the ballet in the best seats in the house – which must have cost him a small fortune – simply been a way for him to feel better about what had happened?
Xander could have been in no doubt about my growing feelings for him.
He’d wanted to make it up to me.
I hated to think it might be true, but had there been an element of guilty chivalry even in the kisses we’d shared?
*****
The following evening, I received some great news from the hospital.
Dad had been improving gradually, day by day, and the doctor who’d been overseeing his care came by – as I sat at Dad’s bedside after work – to tell me he was well enough to be discharged the following day.
Luckily, it was my day off so I happily made arrangements to drive in and collect Dad the next morning. And I immediately began getting the house ready for Dad coming back.
Xander called as I was hoovering, and when I gave him the good news, he sounded both delighted and relieved.
He also asked if I’d like to meet up for a celebration drink later.
‘Well... I’ve got a lot to do today, getting ready for Dad to come home. And then I’ll be wanting to spend as much time as I can with him, especially at the start,’ I said. ‘So I think I might have to give you a rain check on the drink. For now.’
‘Of course. That makes sense,’ Xander said quickly. ‘He’ll really need your support when he first goes home.’
‘He will.’
It was certainly true I wanted to make sure Dad was all right when he came out of hospital – I was intending to spoil him a lot! – but it was also a convenient excuse because I really needed to distance myself from Xander as much as I could.
His remark about trying to make it up to me had hit really hard. I really appreciated all the things he’d done for me, but it was his love I wanted, not his sympathy.
I knew I had to back off because if I didn’t, there was the very real chance that I was going to get hurt all over again.
Xander had been the perfect gentleman, at my side through some really tough times.
But I reckoned he’d discharged what he saw as his ‘duty’ to me and Dad, and I needed to set him free.
We’d be friends, of course. I couldn’t bear the idea that now the crisis was over, we might naturally drift apart.
Xander genuinely liked me so I doubted this would happen.
He did like me. I knew that.
But I’d be mad to assume he was as keen as I was to take our relationship to the next level. I’d only just got over the fiasco of Les and my marriage plans disaster. I couldn’t take any more heartache.
So I threw myself into the joy of having Dad back home... and it was so good being able to take care of him and watch him improving gradually, day by day.
I tried not to worry that although he was getting stronger physically, soon managing a walk around his garden every day, he didn’t seem to be recovering his positivity or his joy in life at the same rate.
Most of the time he either sat in his chair, staring gloomily at the TV, or on the bench outside, gazing at the garden. He seemed barely aware that I was there. I kept up a constant flow of light chit-chat when I was with him, in an attempt at getting some kind of a positive response.
But all I received in return was the occasional sad little smile and a nod or shake of the head. Sometimes he’d reach out and give my hand a squeeze. But it was clear his appetite for life had completely vanished. He seemed like a shadow of his former self and I hated to see him like this.
I asked him again – very gently – about the woman he’d been due to meet on the day of his accident. But he just kept saying he couldn’t remember, which seemed plausible considering his head injury – and yet... I still found it odd that this was the only thing he couldn’t recall...
When I phoned his GP to say I was worried about him, I was told that Dad’s apathy and strange unresponsiveness was likely just a stage in his recovery. Everyone’s path to full health when they emerged from a coma was different, he said. I should just be patient.
But I knew Dad. And I couldn’t help thinking that if he was happy to be home and being looked after by me, I would know it. But I didn’t. I had a feeling there was something bothering him but whenever I asked, he would just shake his head and tell me he was fine.
In the end, I started wondering if maybe my relentless cheeriness was irritating him, so I stepped back a little and gave him space – but even that seemed wrong, because he surely wouldn’t recover his former good spirits by sitting all day in a chair with only his own thoughts for company?
At least I had no problem getting him to do the daily physio exercises that would get him fully mobile again.
He’d been told he was fine to drive – but I’d be behind the wheel of his car for now if we needed to go anywhere. Not that this was likely because on the odd occasion I suggested we take a drive to the coast or out into the countryside, Dad always claimed he was too tired.
I worried that real clinical depression was setting in, and that maybe he was suffering from flashbacks. But I’d already talked to the GP and he’d seemed to think it was all quite normal. So I was at a loss as to what to do next for Dad.
Then one day, when I asked him gently if he’d been having flashbacks from the day of the accident, Dad shocked me with a sudden explosion of anger.
Shouting that he wished I would stop asking him about ‘that woman’ because the memory might never come back to him, he got up and walked out of the living room and slammed the door behind him.
I’d stared after him in bewilderment.
I hadn’t even mentioned ‘that woman’. But clearly, she was on his mind for some reason.
He was normally so laid-back and he hated us ‘having words’ as he called it. But I put it down to his head injury. And I decided that if Dad had escaped with little more in the way of after-effects than a short temper, we’d probably got off quite lightly, really...
I’d thought I’d find it difficult working at the café when Dad was discharged from the hospital, but in the end, I found it a relief to escape for a while from the gloomy atmosphere at home.
I hadn’t heard from Xander for a few days when out of the blue, he called me one evening.
I forced a cheery smile when his name flashed up. ‘Hi, good to hear from you! How are you?’ My greeting sounded fake even to me, and I cringed to imagine how Xander must be feeling. But it was impossible to be natural with him now that things seemed so uncertain between us.
‘I’m fine.’ There was a pause. ‘You know, Anika... I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to cool things between us – not after finding out my twin brother is a first-rate arse and a criminal to boot.
Dana always hated the fact that I had a brother with a criminal record.
She was ashamed to be associated with Freddie through me and the rest of our family.
But I promise you, I’m not like him at all.
I know we share the same genes, being twins, but I wanted to let you know that our personalities are completely different, just in case you thought –’
‘What? No! ’ I gasped in horror. ‘It’s not about Freddie. And of course I don’t think less of you just because Freddie’s gone down the wrong path. Honestly, Xander, it’s just...’ I swallowed hard.
How could I tell him the truth? That I was no longer sure he felt the passion for me that I was feeling for him?
‘It’s just that Dad really needs me right now,’ I said quickly.
‘Of course.’
I heard him breathe out. Then there was another awkward pause, during which I was breaking down inside, wondering if I’d ever see Xander again after this.
At last he said, ‘Look, Anika, if you ever need to talk, just give me a ring, okay? I’m always there for you.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, trying not to swallow because my throat was aching. ‘I... I’ll see you soon, Xander.’
‘I hope so,’ he said, and the call ended.
*****
The following morning, when I went downstairs just after seven, I was surprised to find that Dad was up and about already, looking as if he was going out. He was standing at the window, shoes on, finishing a cup of coffee.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked with a smile. ‘I was going to make you breakfast in bed. Your favourite. Blueberry pancakes.’
He smiled back and putting the cup down, he reached over and took my hand.
‘Sorry for snapping at you yesterday, love. I’ve... had things on my mind. Well, one in particular, which I’m going to put right this morning.’
‘Oh.’ I stared at him. He had a determined look on his face as he walked to the front door and I was suddenly worried.
He’d been behaving so uncharacteristically since he got home from the hospital.
And I wasn’t sure going out in the car was the right thing for him to do.
Not that I could stop him, even if I wanted to.
He seemed so determined this morning.. .
I caught up with him as he opened the front door. ‘Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?’
He paused but he didn’t look back at me. ‘Later, love.’ And he was gone, walking out to the car.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ I called, but his door slammed, the car started and he was already driving away without even a wave back at me.
What on earth was going on? Should he really be going out on his own like this? What if something happened to him?
And then, of course, I had to get ready and go to work at the café so I wasn’t even going to be there to greet him when he got back.
During the morning, I phoned Dad whenever I had a spare minute. But I had a feeling he’d anticipated this because his mobile seemed to be switched off. He really was just as sharp as he’d always been!
I happened to mention to Clara that I was worried about him and she insisted on running me home during my lunchbreak so I could check on him.
As we pulled into the close, I saw immediately that his car was there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was back safely from wherever he’d been.
I smiled gratefully at Clara. ‘Thanks so much for this. I’ll just say hello, make sure he’s got everything he needs, then I’ll be straight out again.’
‘Take your time. My next class isn’t for another hour yet.’ She smiled and gave my forearm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘And family’s the most important thing.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, and I dashed inside.
I found Dad still in his shoes and jacket, sitting at the kitchen table, his head propped between his hands.
‘Dad! Are you okay?’ I peered at him. He looked very pale.
He nodded. ‘I’m fine, love. Better than I’ve felt in a while.’
‘Great. Those exercises must be working.’
He gave me a little smile and tapped the side of his head. ‘I mean I feel better in here.’
‘Oh. Right. Well . . . that’s good.’
‘I’ve been to the police station and told them everything. It’s such a relief, I can’t tell you, love.’ He took a breath and breathed out really slowly.
‘Why on earth were you at the police station, Dad?’ I asked warily, glancing out of the window at Clara’s car. This seemed like very strange behaviour. Maybe he wasn’t fully recovered at all...? ‘Dad, are you okay?’
He gave a weary sigh. ‘I told you, love. I’m fine. I just needed to get things off my chest. I had to tell the police about the part I played in the robbery.’