hasn’t been conscious since she came in, apparently. They’ve done various scans. Seems like she might have hit her head harder than first thought when she went down.”
“That’s awful.”
“They were asking me if we knew who her next of kin is.”
“I haven’t a clue.”
Caroline gave me a questioning look to ask if I wanted her to go. I waved her back into her seat.
“Maybe we could try the management company. They might have someone on file—I don’t know.”
“I’ll give them a call this afternoon if I get a chance,” Stuart said.
“If not, I could call them.”
“I’ll let you know.”
There was a little pause. I wondered if he’d been thinking about that kiss. I’d thought about it a lot.
“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
“Early. And I’m back on Sunday night. Will you miss me?”
I laughed. “No, of course not. I hardly see you during the week as it is, you’re always at work.”
“Hm. Maybe I should start rethinking my priorities.”
“Maybe.”
Was he flirting with me? It felt like he was. I wondered what this conversation would be like if he were sitting in my office instead of Caroline.
“Can I give you a call tomorrow?”
He was definitely flirting with me.
“I’m sure you’ll have more important things to do.”
“You’re joking—it’s only Dad and Rachel.”
“Even so, you said yourself you don’t see enough of them. Make the most of your time there. And you could do with a break as well, you’ve been working really hard.”
“I want to find out how your appointment with Alistair goes. How are you feeling about it?”
“All right. I’m trying not to think about it, to be honest.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow evening. If you don’t want to talk to me you can just turn your phone off.”
“I might do that. I’ll see how I feel. Look, I need to get back to work. Have a safe trip, okay? I’ll see you next week.”
“Okay.”
I hung up.
“Let me guess,” Caroline said. “Stuart?”
“Our neighbor downstairs had a fall the other night; they took her off in an ambulance. Stuart went to see her—she’s not doing too well.”
“Oh, that’s rough.”
“I’ll try and see her tomorrow night, she might be better by then.”
“Is he going on vacation or something?”
“He’s going to Aberdeen to see his dad and sister.”
“You were giving him a hard time,” she said.
“Was I? I wasn’t. Really?”
She raised her eyebrows at me in response.
“He asked if I was going to miss him,” I said, trying to remember if I’d imagined that tone in his voice.
“You are going to miss him, of course.”
“It’s only four days, Caroline, for heaven’s sake. He works such long hours sometimes I don’t see him from one week to the next, it won’t be any different just because he’s gone to Aberdeen.”
“Is he going to call you?”
“Says he is.”
“That’s it, then,” she said. “If he calls you every day between now and when he comes back from Aberdeen, you’ll know.”
“I’ll know what, exactly?”
“That he loves you.”
I was momentarily taken aback. I hadn’t thought of it in those terms before. I’d thought of Stuart as being someone I could trust, someone who understood what might be going on in my head, even someone who found me attractive and probably wanted sex. But not as someone who might be in love with me. Not as someone I could be in love with.
“What are you, some kind of soothsayer?” I said, laughing at her earnest expression.
“You mark my words,” she said. “You’ll see.”
Friday 9 April 2004
I thought he was working, but he came in drunk. He let himself in with his door key when I was sitting watching the news on television. For a fleeting moment I was happy—I was back to looking forward to seeing him again, to getting things back to where we should have been, relaxed, happy, having fun as a couple.
Instead he stumbled, half fell through the door, and as I rose from my seat to meet him his fist hit the side of my face with a crashing blow, sending me flying backward into the side table.
I was so shocked that I didn’t move, just lay there for a moment seeing the carpet against my face and wondering what on earth had happened. Then pain all over my head, excruciating pain, as he took hold of a fistful of hair and dragged me up to my knees.
“Whore,” he said, breathing hard, “you fucking bitch . . . you complete fucking whore.”
With his left hand he slapped me, a stinging blow across my cheek. I would have fallen