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‘How’s everything with you, then?’ she asked.
‘Good. Working hard, the usual.’
I almost told her I’d been to the hospital to visit Clive but realised in the nick of time that it probably wouldn’t go down too well. My aunt didn’t wish anyone harm, but I also thought she felt envious of anyone who’d had an accident and had survived it, or who’d recovered from a life-threatening illness. I’d seen it in her eyes when she’d told me about Debbie who lived across the road from her, for example, who was in remission from Stage IV breast cancer. I knew she was thinking: why her? Why did she get to live? And I knew she felt bad about it, but you couldn’t help how you felt, could you? Val reckoned it was ‘unresolved grief’. At least I think that’s what she’d called it. She was full of jargon because she’d been in therapy for years and considered herself somewhat of an expert on all things psychology-related.
‘How’s Uncle Steve?’ I asked.
She sighed. ‘He can’t seem to sit still for five minutes. I’m not sure he’s cut out for retirement.’
My uncle had given up his job as an electrician last year because Aunty Carol had nagged him into it and had persuaded him that he shouldn’t be going up and down ladders and working with electrics at his age (seventy). She had a point, but the thing was, he’d always kept himself busy. For as long as I could remember, he worked all hours, and on his weekends off he’d either be doing stuff around their house or for Nan and me, or helping out the neighbours by doing odd jobs. I thought it had probably been his way of carrying on, and now that had been taken away from him, he clearly had no idea what to do with himself.
‘How’s that new man of yours?’ asked Aunty Carol.
For a moment or two I couldn’t think who she was talking about, but then I remembered I’d stupidly mentioned Tyler in passing on one of our last phone calls. What had possessed me? She’d never let that one go, now.
‘Oh, he’s back in New York,’ I said vaguely.
‘Ooh, a long-distance relationship,’ chirped Aunty Carol hopefully.
Hardly, I thought. ‘Not really,’ I replied. ‘It was only a casual thing.’
We chatted for a few more minutes about banal topics such as the fruit cake she’d made that had sunk in the middle, my upcoming interview and whether or not I thought she’d ever be able to persuade Uncle Steve to go on a cruise and then I ended the call and went out to the kitchen to see which delights I could conjure up for dinner. I hadn’t been able to face M&S after leaving the hospital, so I was resigned to cobbling together whatever I could find in the fridge. I might possibly be able to rustle up a bowl of pasta with grated cheese.
As I passed the front door, I heard voices outside and couldn’t resist a little peek through the spyhole. A tall guy in an anorak was standing on Jack’s doorstep. Beyond him, I could see Jack. He had no top on and a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was wet and his skin was glistening with soap suds and water. He was laughing, letting his friend inside. I couldn’t help noticing how toned his stomach was, how he had actual Men’s Health abs, just as I’d suspected that first night I’d met him.
I pulled back, shaking my head, going into the kitchen. What was I looking at him like that for? He wasn’t my type at all, even if he had been very kind when I’d almost had a meltdown at the hospital. I got a pan out, filled it with water and put it on the hob, trying to erase all thoughts of a half-naked Jack from my mind.
