“That implies I’ve been stealing other people’s men,” I say mildly.
She laughs. “I saw him when you stopped at the lights. He was asleep, but he looked really pretty.”
I soften. “He is that. He’s staying with me for a bit.”
“Oh, will we meet him?”
“I’m sure you will,” I say grimly. “He tends to do and go wherever he wants.”
“Just what you need,” Flora says, patting my hand.
“Really?”
She nods. “You’ve always needed a bit of spice in your diet.”
“I didn’t need a nervous breakdown either, and yet I’m sure that’s on the horizon.”
She chuckles and hands me the parcel. “Got time for a coffee? I’m on my break.”
I shake my head apologetically. “I’ve got to get back, Flora. Xavier hasn’t been well. I don’t want to leave him on his own for too long.”
It’s the truth. Already, I can feel the pull towards him. I want to be home to check he’s okay. He might have been full of sass and vinegar this morning, but last night had been truly dreadful. He couldn’t seem to stop being sick, which had made his headache even worse. I’d rocked him against me, feeling his thin body limp and burning up. At one point, I’d been so frightened I’d been about to call the emergency services, but then he’d leaned his head against mine and fallen asleep with the suddenness of a child. I don’t want to go through that again. Ican’t stand the idea of him being in any pain, and I would move the earth to make things right for him.
And that’s what this is about, I remind myself. He needs to get better, and then he’ll go. He’s going to leave. He always does. Like a bird flying the cage. But if I can help him in any way, I will. I would lay my life happily down for him, but it’s a good job he doesn’t know that, because in years past, he’d have wiped his shoes on my corpse on his way out the door.
After smiling at the queue behind me, I make my way outside and put the heavy parcel in the boot. Then I head into the supermarket and speed around, grabbing food and provisions, including the ingredients for tomato soup. If that’s what he fancies, then that is what he’ll get. My cupboards are bare because I was in the South of France for the summer, so it takes longer than I’d like. Then I compound my error by edging into the little art shop. They combine selling quality art supplies with being a bookshop. It’s a treasure trove to me, and I always head in here whenever I’m in town.
I choose him a few thrillers from the top twenty and then grab a basket and race through the art section. I chuck in a sketchbook and some paints, a watercolour tin, and some charcoals as an afterthought. I haven’t seen him draw since the Cotswolds, but he used to be an amazing artist. Maybe that will come back to him now. Maybe I can give him a piece of who he used to be and remind him that he’s more than a beautiful face, hard living, and drugs.
Feeling thoroughly ridiculous and like a sentimental fool, I pay and climb back into the car. By now, urgency is beating in my body, telling me to hurry. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and the cuts on my knuckles smart painfully. What if he’s fallen? What if he’s been lying there unconscious while I was talking with friends? It would be my fault if he hurt himself. I brought him here.
He’d joked about kidnapping, but he’s not too far from the truth. I’d sat in that hospital, hovering over him, counting every slow breath and watching his thin face, and I’d prayed and made promises that I would doanythingto help him. Unfortunately for him, it turned out to be an involuntary journey to the Inner Hebrides, but them’s the breaks.
I signal and turn onto the narrow lane that leads to three cottages, one of which is mine. I spot one of my neighbours walking towards me, her spaniel nosing in the bushes. I slow down and lower the window.
“Maud, how are you?”
“Reuben.” She looks at me and her lip twitches. “More importantly, how areyou?”
“Oh, you know.”
“Not really.”
Her tone is amused, and I cock my head. “You okay?”
She bites her lip. “Fine, fine. Absolutelyfine.”
I stare at her and then slump. “Oh my god, what has he done?”
She smirks. “Who on earth are you talking about, Reuben?”
“You know,” I say grimly. “He’s six feet tall, extraordinarily beautiful and as contrary as an old billy goat.” She bursts into laughter, and I make a gesture. “Come on. Tell me.”
She pats my hand. “Ah, I think I’ll let you see for yourself, Reuben. It’s more fun that way.”
“Is it really?”
She nods and steps back. “What a charming young man. I’m already thoroughly enjoying your houseguest.”
