Clive took a moment to recover. ‘I do hope she’s better soon. A youngster like her isn’t due any kind of illness to land her in hospital. Here, have some fruit.’ He offered the basket his allotment friends had sent.
Keisha opted for a satsuma and Clive nodded approval at her choice. It would occupy her hands for longer than any of the other fruits and therefore it would occupy her mind.
‘They’re not all grown at the allotments of course. They’ve obviously been to the local greengrocer as well. They’re a good sort my allotment crew.’ That was one place he did want to get back to. He wasn’t able to escape the feeling it was important somehow.
Keisha peeled it slowly, pulling off the white fibres that hadn’t come off with the rind.
‘It’s nice that they’ve done this for you, and thank you for sharing. I feel like I need the vitamin C. I haven’t been carrying out the same amount of self-care as I normally do.’
‘Fruit and veg are very important. It’s why I have my allotment. I’ve always liked the idea of home-grown. Good for the environment and I know mine is organic when it’s all cared for by me. It’s why your study fascinates me. I like the idea that this beetroot-juice regime is somehow good for me.’ He’d had another dose first thing this morning.
‘Hopefully we manage to prove that, although it’ll take a while.’ Keisha chewed and stared into the middle distance as she popped in segment after juicy citrus-filled segment. She seemed far away and Clive decided to join in the contemplative silence by eating one as well. There was a great deal of delight to be found in knowing Keisha had returned and was here as a visitor. The moments that passed could have been awkward, but it was one of those contented kind of silences.
‘What if there was another option?’ Keisha said.
‘For fruit and veg?’
‘For somewhere for you to live… If it was temporary.’
‘Do you know somewhere?’
‘I might do. Only strictly speaking I’m not sure it would be allowed.’
‘Does it involve sharing a bathroom?’
‘No, you’d have your own.’
‘Does it involve sharing a kitchen?’
‘Only with me.’
Maybe Clive’s delirium hadn’t lifted because he was feeling mightily confused once again. ‘What’s the catch?’
‘No one would be allowed to know. We’d have to say you were living with me at my house for the time being.’
‘I still don’t get it.’
‘You can walk now, can’t you?’
‘Certainly. I’ve been spending half my days walking along these boring old corridors.’
‘We don’t need anyone overhearing. Come for a walk with me and I’ll explain.’
Without even hearing what the plan was, Clive knew he would say yes.
There was something about Keisha that made him feel she was the one that was here to save him. It was a strange stance to take when he’d spent the last couple of weeks surrounded by medics. His life was in their hands, surely? But he’d much rather trust Keisha. There were certain things that required heart and he trusted hers implicitly.
17
Keisha
The idea is simple. It pops into my head so satisfactorily that I can’t ignore it. Before I’m able to talk myself out of it (which I will try to several times over later this evening) I’m telling Clive.
And it isn’t only Clive, it’s George as well. With a health care professional approving my suggestion, it somehow makes it acceptable.
The plan is simply this: Clive will be discharged to live with me. Only he won’t be living with me. He’ll be living at the laboratory.
When the thought pops into my head I see it as a solution to two problems at once. It solves Clive’s need for accommodation and it’ll give me company if Lucy is going to be off. None of my anxieties attach themselves to the idea straight away. That will come later.
‘What’s at the laboratory? Where will I sleep?’ Clive asks after I’ve shared my genius idea.
‘Well, that’s the great part. There’s a bedroom there. My department houses a sleep laboratory. It’s for when we need to monitor cardiac patients overnight, but none of the current studies call for it so at the moment it’s unused.’
We’re at the coffee shop at the front of the hospital. It might not be a top-secret location, but the hubbub around us means that no one will overhear our conversation. George is here, joining us on his break.
‘Won’t the other university staff notice?’ George asks. He