Her mouth was dry. “About what?”
He smiled. “Right.”
That was it? That was all he was going to say?
She waited a few more seconds but when no other words emerged from his mouth, she slowly relaxed her muscles and let out the breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.
Most people would have carried on pushing. They would have dug and probed and then sulked when she hadn’t told them what they wanted to know. But this was Will, and he knew she hated talking about her feelings. Instead of pushing, he stepped back.
Once, when she was eight and the family dog had died, she’d run away to the beach so that she could be by herself (Rosie had been howling on their mother’s lap. Her father and Jamiewere also howling). Will had followed her and sat down next to her. He’d said nothing, just kept her company while she stared fiercely out to sea and tried hard not to cry. And she’d been grateful for his company. Even more grateful that he hadn’t tried to hug her, or soothe her, or encourage her to cry. He’d just sat there, by her side, and let her be what she needed to be. Do what she needed to do.
And now he was doing it again, and she was so overwhelmed with gratitude and affection for him she almost flung herself across the car and hugged him.
“I did the right thing leaving.” She was going to keep telling herself that. And she didn’t want to talk about it any longer or she’d start questioning her decision even more than she already was. “Tell me about your job. You’re the big cheese now?”
“I try and avoid cheese because of its saturated fat content.” He made light of it, but she knew from Jamie that it had been a significant promotion.
“Same hospital. So you don’t have to move house, which is good given all those hours I put into helping you paint your kitchen and plant out your garden, I might have to kill you if you moved.”
He smiled. “That’s what I thought. It’s the reason I didn’t relocate. I thought, Becky will kill me and it’s bad for a house’s value if there was a murder there. Also, I like where I live.”
“Yes, I get that.” She loved his house, and she was in awe of what he’d done. Yes, she’d helped paint walls, sand floors and bring to life the abandoned garden, but he’d done the bulk of the structural work. “I still can’t believe you did it all yourself. That must give you a sense of satisfaction.”
“Sometimes. And then at other times I ask myself why I didn’t just pay a professional to do it.”
“You would never have done that.”
He shifted his hands on the wheel. “I wouldn’t?”
“No. Firstly because you like to fix things. Cars. Houses. People. Hearts. Arteries. And secondly because you love learning new skills. I remember when you helped my dad and Jamie build our tree house. You kept saying ‘show me. Show me how to do it.’ It was occasionally annoying.”
He smiled. “And you say you don’t understand people?”
“I’ve known you forever. It’s different.” She suppressed a yawn. “Also, you don’t behave in a contrary way like most of the people I seem to meet. You always make sense. So you love your job and you love your home. I’m pleased for you, really.” And she was. Will was virtually family and she wanted nothing but good things for him.
“How about you? Apart from the job, obviously. I already know about that. How is your new flatmate working out? It must feel strange not to have Rosie there.”
Strangewasn’t the word she would have chosen, but it worked. The whole of her life felt strange right now.
“It beats walking into the living room and finding them having newly married sex on the sofa. Also it’s a nice change not having Rosie’s flimsy underwear drying on radiators and all the half-made dresses she happens to be creating. Not to mention the yoga mat with the weights. I was always falling over her weights. Almost broke my toe on one of them.” Did she sound convincing? She’d spent a lot of time focusing on the things that drove her mad about her sister. It was an antidote to more complicated and painful feelings.
“What do you miss most about not having her there?”
Everything.
Becky searched for an answer that wouldn’t open up a bigger conversation. “I miss her cakes.”
“Cakes?”
“You know Rosie. She was always baking. Whenever she felt homesick, she’d bake. Which was good for me—” she glanced at him “—although probably bad for my arteries, right?”
“Probably. But it’s all about balance. It’s not as if you live on cake.”
“No, although since I moved jobs my sugar intake is sky-high. They have chocolate and sugary pastries in the office. Right there, every day, spread out where anyone can grab them. Walking past without taking something requires more willpower than I was born with. Probably another strike against them, but at least sinking my teeth into chocolate stops me sinking my teeth into my boss.”
“There are other methods of comfort, Becky. Better ones.”
“Nothing is better than chocolate.”
