Chapter 23
Adam
I’m in the foyer of Hugh’s home, waiting for the receptionist to answer my question. She’s searching on her database, tapping slowly, and I crane my neck to the left, glancing up the corridor.
‘Sorry, are you in a rush?’ She frowns sympathetically at me. ‘Monday morning, the system’s slow.’
‘No!’ I shake my head emphatically. ‘Not at all. I was just... have you changed the wallpaper?’
She looks behind her, as if she might not have noticed. ‘I don’t think so...’
I look up the corridor again. A nurse with black hair, a plump, older lady, a man with blue epaulettes. No sign of her.
‘Right, do you have a pen and paper?’ The receptionist finishes tapping and looks at me.
‘Erm.’ For a second, I forget what I asked her. ‘I’ll just jot it down on my phone.’
She reads out Hugh’s NHS number to me — I already have it written down on a million doctor’s letters at home — and I thank her.
‘Is he with anyone at the moment? I don’t want to interrupt,’ I ask.
She frowns at her watch. ‘I shouldn’t think so... he had his wash an hour or so ago, and his meds are done. No other visitors on the log.’
‘Great, thank you.’ I flash her a smile and dart up the corridor, rushing into Hugh’s room and slamming the door behind me.
Just Hugh. Thank god.
I am being completely pathetic. I take note of this fact as I ruffle Hugh’s hair and sink into the chair next to his. What am I doing, surveilling my own brother’s care home in the hopes of avoiding a woman I slept with?
‘I’m such a coward,’ I sigh. Hugh gurgles delightedly.
I have been known, in the past, to be a bit of a doormat. When I went freelance and started tutoring, I thought I’d really taken the reins. I was in charge of my own destiny, I’d escaped the misery of my old job and created a fulfilling — if less well-paid — life for myself, and I really believed I’d proved that you didn’t have to be a dick to get what you wanted. You could be kind, and nice, and still have it all and be happy.
But what Katie did, and my reaction to it, is making me question myself. Several times my instinct was to sweep it under the rug and pretend it wasn’t happening; other times I wanted to confront her and forgive her. That’s chief doormat behaviour, isn’t it? If I had asked her to stay, would she have?
Chloe’s texts swim into my mind again. Her face, the things she said. You’re so bloody careful, Adam.
I shake the memory away.
‘And now, all of this with Becky,’ I continue out loud. ‘I’m being doormat-y again, aren’t I? I’m not facing things head on.’
Hugh throws Hei Hei at my head.
‘Thanks, mate.’ I laugh. ‘I needed that.’
I half watch Moana for half an hour, idly swiping through A Level resources and university admissions rules, before standing up to leave. If I see Becky, I decide, I’ll say hello. She’s looking after my brother — I want us to be civil.
I reach down to give Hugh a hug, but as I pull away, I notice a faint, round bruise on his forearm.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, holding his wrist. It’s the size of a fingerprint, faded and grey. Hugh shakes his arms, shrieking happily.
Something icy cold pools in my stomach. I weigh up my options. If anything is happening, I need to know so that I can move him immediately. But if it’s nothing, if it’s an accident, an accusation like that could upset all the people who work so hard to look after him.
I make up my mind and drop a kiss on Hugh’s head before walking out into the corridor. The woman at reception looks surprised to see me again.
‘Hi, sorry. I just wanted to flag something really quickly — my brother seems to have a bruise on his left forearm. It’s small, but I’m just a bit worried about it. Would someone be able to have a look?’
She raises her eyebrows, looking concerned. ‘Oh, goodness. Of course. Let me see when the doctor’s due in...’ She taps at her computer. ‘He’ll be here at three. I’ll ask him to have a look first thing.’
‘Great, thank you. He’s very energetic, so I’m sure it’s self-inflicted, but...’ I hesitate, and then decide to push. ‘If you could just make a record of it?’
‘Absolutely.’ She nods. ‘It’s protocol to log anything like this. I’ll put it in the system now.’
‘Thank you.’
* * *
In a bid for distraction, I pack for Dublin early. I don’t want to think about potentials with Hugh, or about Becky, or about the fact that Katie will be here in less than ten minutes...
I pull the suitcases down from the top of the wardrobe; they’re zipped inside one another like Russian dolls. I unzip Katie’s hard-shell silver case to reveal my lightweight, practical bag with wheels and backpack straps. I stare at the two cases lined up next to each other on the bed. The contrast is unnerving. Am I boring? Is this what made her leave, this sad metaphor for my dullness?
I shake my head and pull Katie’s case to the floor, leaving it open for her to fill with her things when she arrives. My stomach somersaults. Would I take her back, if she returned with her tail between her legs? I hate myself for not having a definitive answer to that question.
I unzip my own bag, splaying it open on the bed. Inside is the tube of sun cream I’ve been looking for all summer, and the phone charger I assumed I’d left at the hotel. Is this why she left? My scatter-brained incompetency?
I pull open the wardrobe, sliding shirts off their hangers at random and rolling them into tubes. Two nights, three shirts — one for contingency purposes. I open the drawers and grab a handful of boxers, stuffing them at the bottom of the bag before nestling the shirts on top. What else? Trousers. Shorts? Will it still be hot in Dublin? I go to check my weather app, but there’s a knock at the door.
I take the stairs two at a time, nerves and giddiness rolling around in my stomach. She’s here. For the last time?
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I stop. I need to compose myself. Adrenaline is pumping around my veins. I feel lightheaded, I’m not thinking straight. I take a deep breath, before remembering that the glass partition in the door allows anyone outside a blurry view of the hallway. She can probably see me, standing here. I can see her, her outline is as familiar as my own in the mirror.
I slide the chain back and twist the key, pulling the handle down.
And there she is.
‘Adam.’ She smiles, her face bright. Her hair is lighter, curled, and as she moves to pull it away from her forehead, I notice her nails are buffed and shiny. ‘Can I come in?’