‘Helicopter?’ she asked right on cue.
‘Oh yes,’ said Hattie with blasé aplomb. ‘My caterer is flying in for an initial consultation.’ With that she picked up the plates and carried them over to the sink to load the dishwasher.
‘I should do that,’ said Luc.
‘No, it’s fine. You catch up with … with your friend.’
Hattie decided she’d had the last word and retired upstairs, leaving them to it. Of course, Luc was popular with the ladies, she’d always known he was way out of her league.
She sat out on the balcony in the dark with only the hoot of an owl and a couple of dogs barking in the distance for company. It struck her how far away she was from everyone she knew and how alone she was. When her phone began to ring, it caught her at just the right moment. Chris again. Feeling resigned, she answered the call.
‘Hi, Chris.’ She deliberately put her usual upbeat chivvying-Chris-along tone.
‘Hattie. How are you?’
‘I’m good. How are you?’
‘I miss you.’
The quiet words pierced her like a knife between ribs. She sighed very quietly. She missed the old him. When it had been ‘us’. But she didn’t miss what they’d had in the last two years.
‘I didn’t mean it, you know. I’m sorry.’
‘I know,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I’ve been thinking.’
She swallowed, knowing what was coming didn’t make it any easier. ‘Maybe when you come back from France we could try again. I’ve got a job interview. Things will be different.’
Her stomach twisted. Different. Would they? A knot of tension tightened in her shoulders. ‘A job interview. That sounds good.’ She chose to ignore the subtext.
‘It is. It’s time I got back to work, although … well, I didn’t want to say. Mum’s not well. Really not well, this time.’
Ah and there it was. ‘Oh dear,’ said Hattie instead of what she really wanted to say which wasWhat’s wrong with her this time?Which she knew was heartless and possibly selfish but Chris’s mother had been the main character in their lives in the latter years of their relationship.
‘Yes, I’ve had to call the doctor out a couple of times. She’s been having chest pains.’
Audrey Whittaker’s chests pains, along with her bad back, her anxiety and agoraphobia, had been bothering her for the last five years, ever since Hattie and Chris had graduated from university. They bothered her more whenever she didn’t get her own way.
‘That’s not good,’ said Hattie.
‘No, I’m worried about her.’
‘I know.’
‘You don’t sound very sympathetic.’
‘Sorry,’ said Hattie automatically, falling back into the same old cycle of accusation, recrimination and apology. ‘What does the doctor say?’
‘Same as always. There’s nothing wrong with her. He’s not seen her doubled over in pain. That can’t possibly be in her head. He just gave her some stronger painkillers. How’s that going to help? We’re going to have to go private. That’s partly why I need to get a job. They offer flexible working and it’s local so I’ll be able pop back at lunchtime every day to check on her.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Hattie, weary now because the job was about his mother, not about his own self-esteem or finding a purpose in life.
‘It is. So … I was thinking. Well when you come back. We could maybe move. Get a place of our own.’
‘Chris…’
‘No, don’t say it, Hats. Think about it. Please. There’s no need to make any final decisions. Maybe a break is what you need. It’s been tough on you as well. But when I have a job, things will change, you know they will. At least say you’ll think about it. Please, Hats.’
