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As luck would have it, there was a public toilet nearby, and when in there I put my head in my hands for a minute and had a strong word with myself. It worked well enough – I sailed out past the queue of women with my head held high, even though I could feel their eyes boring into my back. Perhaps they thought I was a man due to my short grey hair, set jaw and stout figure – the shop assistant had certainly made that mistake. I shook off the shiver that gave me and met the waiting Petra with a smile. She returned it and then, to my surprise, took my hand.
“Nearly there,” she said, leading me into the next shop. Once again, we headed for the ladies’ department, and within that, a floor up, the sleepwear. There was nothing I wanted more than to park myself on a chair once again and let her pick something out, but suddenly I found myself not quite trusting her. Instead, I followed her cautiously as she made for a rack that had some baggy T-shirt-style nighties on it.
“I’ve never seen you in a nightie,” she said, taking one off the rail and holding it up against me. I squirmed out of the way and took it off her, grimacing at the picture of a cartoon duck that adorned the front.
“With good reason. They’re dreadful. They’re like a dress, but one you wear in bed.”
“That is what a nightie is, really. What’s wrong with this duck? It’s purple, which matches your hair. And it’s cute. I’ve never actually seen you wear a dress in the flesh.”
“Again, with good reason. Hang on, what do you mean in the flesh? You’ve never seen me wear one at all!”
“You were wearing them in that photo album I saw the other day. From 1991, was it? You were wearing some nice dresses in that – there was even one I wouldn’t be averse to wearing now!”
With no warning whatsoever, bile rose in my throat. I couldn’t stand the thought of Petra seeing that old, outdated version of myself, which I’d been socially obliged to dress up in feminine fripperies that now made my skin crawl. I quickly turned away, moving towards a set of pyjamas that were much more my style – tartan, to match my Scottish heritage, and boxy in shape.
“Here,” I said thickly, trying to swallow down the nausea. “These will do.”
“Size eighteen?” Petra said incredulously. “You’re not an eighteen. Look, let’s just get the correct size of these and go. I think this place is getting to you.”
It was, but not in the way she thought. She had no idea how I was really feeling.
Problem was, I wasn’t all that sure either.
I hadn’t exactly told her.
Chapter Nine
When we got home, Petra offered “to pick up where we left off on Monday”.
I stared at her, and her soft one-eyebrow-raised smile, with what I’m sure was an entirely bemused expression.
She took a few steps forward towards me, then straddled my lap where I sat on the sofa.
“That ‘funny business’ I declined you,” she murmured. “And for which you’ve waited so patiently all week. Are you still feeling it?”
“Not really,” I answered honestly, and I saw her face drop. Normally if I rejected her, she was an expert at schooling her features and hiding her disappointment, but today she looked entirely crestfallen, and that undid me. “But I’d be willing to give it a shot,” I whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as I leaned forward to give her a kiss.
She laughed into it, and started undoing the buttons on my polo shirt, never taking her lips off mine. She was just feathering her fingers around the hem when her phone started buzzing on the kitchen table.
“Ignore it,” she mumbled around the kiss. That had always been our policy, to ignore the outside world when it came to lovemaking, and sure enough, it stopped buzzing. Then it started again, making us both pause. I could almost hear both of our brains ticking over as we wondered who could be so desperate to get hold of Petra. Only one of her siblings had her number these days, and they rarely spoke anyway, so it could only be someone in the village.
“I’d better-” Petra began, then it stopped. We both breathed a sigh of relief, and were just turning back to each other when it started buzzing again.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Petra hissed as she got up from my lap and went into the kitchen. “Who the fuck- Victoria.”
I leaned forward so I could see into the kitchen, just in time to see her swiping frantically at the screen.
“Hello? Victoria? What’s…” A pause. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I followed her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. She sank into it without even noticing.
“Where are you now?” A longer pause, but I couldn’t hear what her boss was saying. “No, it’s okay. We’ll work it out. Do you want me to come to you?”
Even I could hear the headteacher’s bark of “No!” but whatever she said next was unintelligible.
“Shh. It’s okay, we’ve talked about stuff like this.” Petra’s voice was soothing. “I’ll let everyone know. Will you let me know when you’re discharged? I’ll come and see you. And will you need any help…?” She winced. “Okay, okay, okay. Now, you’re not to lay there worrying. I have everything under control. You just focus on getting better, and we’ll see you back again hopefully in September.”
Ice flooded my veins.
