Lydia had been going up to the care home every three weeks and had begun to get more normality back into her everyday life. The care home was what it was and Anita, Grace and Lydia had personalised Theo’s room some more, adding photos dotted around, a different colour duvet cover to brighten the place up and even positioned the yucca plant in the corner, the plant he’d had since his teenage years but had never got around to taking down to Bath. She still talked to Theo about work because she was loving her job. She’d never thought it possible to say that about work, she certainly never had the same feelings for her journalist job in London, but the fit with this position was ideal. She loved the challenge, the fact she was discovering so much about the world. She’d never yearned to travel but it was already giving her itchy feet and when Sally had asked her again about the ski trip she’d been tempted.
‘Please say you’ll come.’ Sally begged. They’d already booked it for her and Gerry but they were staying in self-catering accommodation that had one bedroom and a fold-out bed in the lounge area so could easily fit her in.
‘I really appreciate the offer.’ Lydia used the spaghetti spoon to divide the pasta between two bowls and Sally did the honours by ladling out the home-cooked bolognese sauce. Lydia had returned to cooking, something she found she was enjoying more and more, and she’d found a wonderful recipe that required three hours of simmering, so with the rain lashing against the windows outside it was a cosy night in at her place, with time for a good gossip.
‘But…’ Sally prompted.
Lydia handed Sally a grater and a wedge of parmesan. ‘Make yourself useful.’
‘I will if you give me a straight answer. And I don’t want excuses, I want real reasons.’ She began grating the cheese.
Lydia took down two red wine glasses and set them on the bench. ‘Skiing isn’t my thing and before you say anything, I know I don’t have to ski, but I think it’s time you stopped trying to look after me as if I was going to break.’
Sally’s eyes widened.
‘You do, so don’t argue.’
‘You’re my friend, that’s why, and that’s what friends do.’
‘Do you honestly want me tagging along with you and Gerry on your romantic getaway?’
‘Both of us are very happy for you to come.’
Lydia suspected it was the truth. She poured two glasses of the same red wine they’d poured into the meaty mixture and they took the bowls of pasta, now topped with grated parmesan, over to the table.
‘You’ve really looked after me over the last nine months,’ Lydia continued. ‘I am more appreciative of that than you’ll ever know, but I think it’s time for me to spread my wings a bit.’
Sally grinned. ‘Does this have anything to do with a certain gorgeous blond?’
Lydia smiled right back. ‘As a matter of fact, it does. But not in the way you think.’
‘But you see him all the time.’
‘I do. We’ve become great friends.’ She twirled her fork against a spoon to gather all the pasta neatly on top. ‘He’s a top guy.’ Sally looked so excited Lydia had to put her out of her misery. ‘We’re not anything more than friends, but he did something for me yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘He took me down to the new dance school that’s opened up. He’s been asking me about dancing over and over during our lunches together and with his limited knowledge about my experience he booked me in for a one to one session with a top dance coach and I had my first lesson since December.’
Sally’s mouth fell open. ‘Lydia, that’s fantastic!’
‘Oh don’t start crying.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve just been so worried about you. If I ever see Connor again I’m going to buy him a magnum of champagne because what he’s done for you is nothing short of spectacular. And I couldn’t manage it.’
‘Don’t be daft, you did everything you could for me and he just came in at the right time and gave me a nudge in a different direction.’
‘So how did it feel to be back on the dance floor?’
Lydia inhaled deeply. ‘It was the best.’ They exchanged a look that spoke volumes of their friendship and collapsed into giggles when Sally’s prowess with her fork and spoon gave way to simply shovelling spaghetti into her mouth inelegantly like a kid who was tackling the stuff for the first time.
‘I’m going to get a photo of you like that and send it to Gerry,’ Lydia laughed.
‘Don’t you dare!’
And just like that, Lydia felt, for once, that she was right back on track.
