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49
Rebecca
I had a shower and put some comfy clothes on, shoving my hair up into a bun. My eyes still looked a bit red from where I’d been crying on the way to the Royal Free. Greenhill Lodge hadn’t told me much on the phone except that Nan had been complaining of chest pains and that they’d called an ambulance to be on the safe side. They’d said it would probably be quicker for me to meet her at the hospital.
Just as I was looking in the fridge, deciding whether I could face having anything to eat, there was a knock on the door.
I looked at my watch. Who would be knocking at nearly midnight?
‘Hello?’ I said, peering through the spyhole.
‘It’s me. Jack,’ said a muffled voice from the other side.
I opened the door.
‘I got your message,’ he said, looking worried.
I nodded. ‘Oh, right.’
‘How is she, your nan?’
‘They think it’s pneumonia. Hopefully they’ve caught it in time, though. Her temperature’s come down already, so that’s a good sign.’
‘OK. That sounds positive. How are you?’
There was something about the concern in his voice, the fact that he was here to check on me when he should be getting drunk at the theatre, that made me feel all warm and looked after and important. I’d been mad to shut myself off to him. It didn’t come around often, this type of connection. We had something, I could see it now, and it was time to be brave and do something about it.
‘Do you fancy coming to mine for a drink?’ he said, before I had a chance to say anything. ‘I’ve got some white wine chilling in the fridge.’
‘Sounds good,’ I replied, not giving myself time to think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t. Anyway, I’d only sit around worrying about Nan.
I grabbed my keys from the kitchen and closed the front door behind me.
He let me into his and I walked down the hallway, barefoot because I hadn’t thought to put shoes on. ‘Shall I go into the lounge?’ I asked.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll get us a drink and I’ll be right with you.’
I went over to the window, which he’d left open. I could hear the noise of the traffic snaking up East Heath Road and wondered if it would annoy me if I lived on this side. A breeze floated past me and I breathed in the scent of something floral. It was probably the bush with bursts of white flowers in the front garden that I didn’t know the name of.
I went to sit on the sofa. His lounge looked different this time. There were boxes lined up against the wall and the bookshelves were emptier than they had been before. Of course, he was moving out. The photos had come down, too, and now the only hint that this was an actor’s home was the script on the coffee table. It seemed to be for some sort of film and looked well leafed-through, with a coffee stain on its front cover. I couldn’t help feeling a bit bereft that he’d be leaving soon.
He appeared in the doorway holding two glasses of white wine and came to stand next to me. I took one of the drinks from him, cradling it in my hands, enjoying having something to focus on. I swilled the glass, watching the liquid slop about.
‘How did the play go?’ I asked.
‘I wish you’d been there,’ he said.
