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‘I like her.’ I smile at him. ‘I like your goats, too. She’s right. They’re really sweet.’
Jack looks pleased. ‘I’m glad you think so.’ He pauses. ‘If you’re not in a hurry, can I make you a cuppa?’
‘I’d love one.’ I gaze at him. ‘But haven’t I taken up enough of your time?’
‘My only commitment is those two.’ He glances back at the paddock where the goats are making short work of a small mountain of hay. ‘But it’ll take them ages to get through that lot.’
The garden is lovely – gently sloping, with views of the surrounding countryside and as we make our way back to the house, the birds are in full song. Opening the back door, Jack shows me into the kitchen, a light room with grey units and a big wooden table.
‘This is lovely.’ I stand there taking in the pictures on the walls, the tiled floor and soft heavy curtains.
‘Thanks. I’m lucky, really. It’s all thanks to Gertie. Have a seat.’
Pulling out a chair, I watch him boil the kettle, my eyes settling on a photo of Jack and a woman. With long fair hair, her eyes are wide as she gazes at the camera.
Bringing a couple of mugs over to the table, Jack glances at the photo briefly, before turning to me. ‘My ex.’ Frowning, he shakes his head. ‘I thought I’d taken her photos down, but I obviously missed one.’
As he takes it down and puts it in a drawer, a funny feeling comes over me. ‘Were you together long?’
‘Long enough to think she was the one – though I realise now, she most definitely wasn’t.’ He picks up his mug and sips his tea. ‘Sometimes, I guess you find these things out the hard way. It’s definitely better to be alone than with the wrong person.’
‘That is so true.’ I think of my last boyfriend, who dumped me after my parents died. ‘The last guy I went out with…’ I hesitate. ‘Suffice to say, no-one should go out with him. He was hopeless – probably still is.’ Catching Jack’s eye, I can’t help smiling, because while my ex was inept and self-obsessed, Jack seems anything but. ‘Like you say, sometimes it’s better to be alone.’
His smile drops. ‘Not always, though.’ He goes on, telling me about one of his patients, Roxie, who impulsively dumped her boyfriend. ‘I know she’s ill, but he’s a good guy and he loves her. She’s just given to making rash decisions.’
I’m not sure how tolerant I’d be in her situation. ‘Have they sorted it out?’ I pick up my mug.
‘I think so. She called him, at least.’ He hesitates. ‘When time is running out, I think it makes you see things differently.’ He proceeds to tell me about another woman in the hospice, Rose, who died recently.
‘That’s so sad.’ I shake my head. ‘To get to the end and have regrets.’
Jack nods. ‘Honestly? It happens all the time. People having regrets, when they’re out of time.’
‘Bit of an agony aunt, are you?’ I tease gently.
His eyes meet mine again. ‘It kind of goes with the job. But in a way, Rose was different. She made a choice and put her family first.’
‘But it sounds like she still had regrets,’ I say quietly.
Jack looks sad for a moment. ‘About Mitchell, yes. But not about her family. I think she saw it as a compromise worth making. No-one has everything.’
‘I suppose not.’ As I gaze at him, something shifts in my mind – or maybe it’s in my heart. A kind of feeling – or knowledge – that this man is different to anyone else I’ve met. He’s the real deal.
‘Your patients are really lucky,’ I say softly.
He looks surprised. ‘Thank you.’
Then the tea goes to my head. My world may be small, but I don’t wish regret to be a word that features in my life. I know too well the way the unexpected shows up when you’re least ready for it. That it could be me rather than Marnie, lying in a bed in hospital. That you can’t bank on tomorrow, because tomorrowdoesn’t always come. Here, in this exact moment, I know what feels right. Putting down my mug, I find myself leaning towards him. Then I kiss him.
20
MARNIE
As I come around from surgery, I’m drowsy, conscious of blurred shapes moving around me before my eyes close and I sleep again.
At some point, I become aware of Forrest’s presence. Coming over, he crouches down by my bedside. ‘Hey,’ he whispers.
I gaze into his eyes and feel his hand take one of mine, gently holding it.
