by Jules Wake
‘Have you got a make-up brush?’ he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. ‘Like they use on archaeology digs?’
She stared at him as if he’d gone mad but still didn’t say anything.
‘I don’t want to risk pushing some of these tiny splinters in further.’ He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes with a calm smile trying to get through to her. Was she in shock? To his relief she finally responded.
‘No. Um. Yes, I mean. There.’ She nodded to the dressing table.
With great care, conscious he had no idea whether this was the right thing to do or not, he dusted away the fragments, smearing the minuscule blood spots into little red tears.
Under his fingers he felt her jump slightly and her pulse raced under his thumb. With a rallying smile, he tried to reassure her but she still looked dazed, so he touched her face as if to check she could still respond. Her head tilted exhaling warm breath that brushed his hand. Awareness punched into his stomach, tightening his groin as he looked at her full, plump lips. He’d been this close before, kissed her before. And she didn’t remember a damn thing about it. That thought hurt like a physical pain making him want to kiss her more than anything else in the world.
Her shoulders shuddered, loosening a thin strap that fell down her arm, pulling her camisole top low. The rise and fall of her chest drew his attention. He wanted to stroke and soothe the skin, ease her breathing, scoop her up and hold her, take away the frozen look in her eyes.
With his girlfriend just next door. Shame slammed into him. What the hell was he thinking? Besides, Olivia didn’t want him, she was in love with someone else.
Abruptly, he put down the brush and holding on to her arm, he lifted the bedcovers away from her legs, dislodging the brick lying on the stained duvet.
‘So that’s what did all the damage.’ He scowled. What if it had hit her head? ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
He helped her off the bed doing his best to keep his touch impersonal, needing to put some distance between them. She groaned in pain as she put her foot down. A big blue egg was already appearing on her ankle.
‘Shit,’ she said, as it gave way.
He caught her weight and without thinking put his arm around her, his earlier resolution vanishing. His fingers brushed her ribs through the thin fabric and he lifted them as if burnt.
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’ he asked.
‘Mmm,’ she muttered.
As he helped her to hobble through to the lounge, conscious of her warm skin and his fingers skimming underneath her left breast, Emily finally emerged, hovering in the doorway.
‘What happened? What was that noise?’ She clutched her throat like some 1940’s movie star posing in her nightgown. For a brief, puzzling moment it was like looking at a woman he’d never seen before.
‘Someone’s chucked a brick through the window,’ he said, steering Olivia towards the sofa.
He saw the two girls catch each other’s eye. Neither of them said a word. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He stiffened. Funny they weren’t asking more questions, as if they knew more than they were admitting.
‘Emily, get a towel,’ he snapped, as Olivia sank into the cushioned seat. Emily dithered for a moment. ‘Now,’ he shouted.
She looked hurt but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of whatever game the two of them were playing. ‘And a bowl of warm water and cotton wool or tissues,’ he yelled after her departing back, as Olivia slumped against him.
Her teeth began to chatter and his anger dissolved. Capable, sensible Olivia looked done in, vulnerable and scared, her eyes meeting his and holding his gaze as if her life depended on it. Tonight he needed to focus on getting her to hospital. Tomorrow he’d be asking some questions.
Totally inappropriate curls of lust snaked in my stomach. How was it possible that with blood spurting everywhere and a three-inch piece of glass lodged in my arm, my libido suddenly decided to come to life?
Keeping my eyes riveted to the shiny point sticking out of my skin, I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let him see how my body was responding. Luckily physical signs of shock started to set in, disguising my reactions. My teeth began to chatter and I couldn’t stop the tremors shaking my muscles.
There was already a trail of crimson drops on the floor. My eyes were drawn to a wide smear across Daniel’s bare chest. Without thinking I touched the warm skin. The fine dusting of hair across his chest felt surprisingly soft and I didn’t want to move. For a second he went still, before putting his hand over mine.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his face softening.
I nodded, a huge lump in my throat.
‘Come on, let’s get you sorted. You need ice on that ankle. Then, I’m afraid it’s a definite casualty job.’
The blood trickle had slowed and was starting to congeal in an ugly puddle around the embedded glass.
‘I daren’t touch that.’ A gentle finger skirted around the wound as he spoke.
Despite the soreness of my arm, a small fizz of electricity followed his tender tracing. My heart did that funny miss-a-beat thing. Not now, I firmly told myself, staring fixedly down at the glass point. Talk about bad timing.
I sank into a chair. Thank God, Daniel had had the presence of mind to pull on some jeans. My pulse had speeded up even more at the sight of the smooth muscled abdomen right in front of my nose. It was rattling along like a runaway train. I couldn’t help my gaze following the direction of the dark arrow of coarser hair tapering down into the faded denim. If I didn’t get a grip I was going to have full-scale palpitations.
Emily reappeared, slopping water from a bowl as she hurried over. Her gaze narrowed as it came to rest on Daniel kneeling in front of me.
A timely reminder. Daniel was hers.
He glanced up at her. ‘We need something for Olivia’s ankle – ice, frozen peas?’
Ankle? Forget that. My whole body needed cooling down.
‘Peas. Right,’ she said, shooting off again. Folding the towel he slipped it under my arm to soak up the worst of the blood. Gently he dabbed away, as I winced with every stroke. When he’d finished, he moved closer, crouching between my legs. Our eyes were level as he gave me a reassuring smile and his warm hand closed over mine, squeezing it comfortingly.
‘I’ll take you to A & E.’
I kept my eyes firmly on his, terrified I was going to give myself away. God, if I so much as looked at his mouth, he’d know.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, forcing myself to think of the mundane. Outside it was dark and I could just hear muffled early morning sounds; a car accelerating a street away, the distant rattle of a train.
‘Quarter to two,’ said Daniel, his eyes flicking to the clock behind my head. ‘Hopefully casualty will be quiet. The drunks will have been cleared out. Let me get dressed.’
I settled into the chair, gritting my teeth as the pain began to bite in earnest. Wages of sin. Served me right for thinking unseemly thoughts. What was worse? The stinging in my arm, the steady pounding of my bruised ankle or my mind doing a slow motion replay of when Daniel touched my hand on his chest?
As I closed my eyes, resting my head wearily against the sofa, I was conscious of agitated whispering in Emily’s bedroom. I winced. She hadn’t seemed very sympathetic to my injuries. Any second now I expected her to say, ‘She fancies you’. Instead I heard her hissing, ‘You can’t leave me here on my own. What if they come back?’
‘What? To inspect the damage?’ replied Daniel, his words ringing with scorn.
Then he lowered his voice and I didn’t quite catch what he said next. It sounded like, ‘Probably his wife’. What was he talking about? That TV programme must have fired his imagination.
Raising his voice again, he carried on
, ‘If you’re worried, why not ring the police? You’ll have to anyway for insurance. That window will have to be replaced.’
‘Fine,’ said Emily petulantly. ‘Don’t worry about me. You’d better get precious Olivia to hospital.’
As Daniel’s car pulled into the hospital car park I began to shake again and then I started to cry. Not gentle sniffs and delicate tears – no, they were great, strangled gulps and guttural sobs accompanied by a runny nose. Very unattractive, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Hey, come on, Olivia,’ said Daniel, as he pulled deftly into a parking slot. ‘It’s all right.’
‘S-s-sorry,’ I gasped. ‘I c-c-can’t …’
He leaned over, pulling my head onto his chest. Gradually my tears subsided. I gave my nose an elephant-blow into the pristine white hanky he’d pressed into my hands. With one eye I tried to assess the damage to his sweater. There was bound to be a snail trail of snot and yesterday’s mascara down it, but there were extenuating circumstances. I made the most of the situation and snuggled in to his broad chest. I could feel his heart beating, strong and steady under the soft lambswool.
As I grew calmer, he shifted, cupping my chin in his hands to wipe away the tears with his thumbs. Instantly my heart took up a salsa rhythm. Adrenaline rush, I told myself. Just shock. I can handle a 300 bpm heart rate. Deep breaths. That would help.
Unfortunately I over did the breathing and started to hyperventilate. At which point Daniel started stroking my back, his arms around me, as if soothing a highly strung racehorse. The last thing I needed.
It was a relief when he finally opened his car door and said, ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go and get you sorted out.’ From the back seat he pulled out a blanket, which he tucked gently around me.
Sweetheart? Could my heart stand any more havoc? Had he really just called me that?
Calm down, he’s just being kind because you’re injured. If I wasn’t careful I was about to make a terrible fool of myself.
We passed a few diehard smokers just outside and as we stepped through the automatic doors of A & E, the harsh institutional strip lighting stung my tear-stained, swollen eyes. Although it was the middle of the night, there was still a sense of efficient purpose about the place. Soft soled shoes squeaked on the shiny vinyl floors as medical staff strode by.
Daniel escorted me to a grey plastic seat, arranging my blanket around my shoulders before going to speak to a middle-aged lady sitting ramrod straight behind the bare reception desk. No pictures or flowers just dismal public health warnings about smoking and heart disease. Their low voiced conversation washed over me as I closed my eyes drowsily, happy to let him take charge. He managed to get so far, remembering my date of birth and postcode but had to come back and rouse me for my GP’s details.
Eventually, all paperwork completed, Daniel returned and sat down beside me. It seemed completely natural when his hand took mine. He squeezed my fingers.
‘You OK?’
I nodded, not daring to move, conscious of his warm fingers wrapped around mine.
‘They’re going to get a nurse to take a look at you, but they don’t want you to eat or drink anything until you’ve been seen.’
‘That’s OK. I don’t want anything.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired. A bit spaced out.’
‘Here put your head on my shoulder.’ He put his arm around me. I snuggled in. Just as I drifted off I thought I felt the graze of lips on my hair as he shifted position or was that wishful thinking?
My first thought when I woke was that my bunny slippers looked decidedly out of place in A & E. However my bloodstained arm fitted right in with the beaten up survivors of a brawl who were sat opposite. Both had black eyes, split lips and long ladders in their tights. Propping each other up, they were swaying slightly. One kept nodding off, her head slipping down the other’s shoulder, at which point she would start awake before her head began to droop again.
I checked the clock. We’d been there for over two hours. Lifting my head, I checked I hadn’t dribbled down Daniel’s sweater. No, all clear. No damp patches. He unhooked his arm, stretching and wriggling it.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to go to sleep.’
‘You’re fine. How are you feeling?’
‘Better. I’m not going to be—’
Our attention was diverted by a short dumpy nurse in a crumpled and stained blue uniform. ‘Shannon Cripps,’ she called briskly.
One of the two drunken girls twitched, recognising her name and lurched unsteadily to her feet. The nurse went over to offer her an arm.
‘Wot you looking at?’ hissed the girl belligerently, spittle flying from her mouth, spraying the nurse who grimaced slightly.
‘It’s my job to look at you. I’m a nurse,’ she said ultra-politely. Her teeth must have been so firmly gritted she could have ground peppercorns with them.
‘Fuck off. You ain’t lookin’ at me,’ slurred the girl.
Her friend, a blonde with three-inch black roots, muttered. ‘Thas right, Shan. You tell ’er, Shan. You wan’ me to ’it ’er?’
The nurse discreetly flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. You could see her summoning up every last reserve of patience.
‘Do you want treatment or not?’ she asked in a very reasonable tone.
‘Go on then. Bin waitin’ bleedin’ long enough.’ Shannon moved with exaggerated care.
It crossed my mind that surgery without an anaesthetic was too good for Shannon. The nurse caught my eye. I gave her a sympathetic smile. She smiled back saying, ‘You’re next.’
The blonde girl who had roused herself long enough for this exchange, dozed off again and, without Shannon’s shoulder, slid to the floor, her plump thighs splayed in front of her like a pair of outsize sausages.
I looked at Daniel. He grinned. ‘Ah, the fairer sex.’
‘God,’ I sighed. ‘It’s only midweek. Can you imagine what it’s like in here on a Friday and Saturday?’
He shuddered. ‘I dread to think. Feeling OK?’
‘A bit sick. More the thought of what they’re going to do to me in there. How will they get that glass out?’
‘Don’t worry. They’ll numb it first … with a very big needle. One jab in your bum. You won’t feel a thing.’
I wrinkled my nose at him. ‘Daniel,’ I protested. ‘You’re supposed to be reassuring me. Anyway … I don’t mind needles.’
‘You haven’t seen this one.’ He grinned.
At last I was called. Just as I went to follow the nurse, Daniel caught my good arm. ‘Do you want me to phone anyone for you?’
‘Thanks. It’s OK. I’ll call my folks tomorrow. There’s no point worrying them tonight. They can’t do anything.’
‘Sure there’s no one else you want me to ring?’ he said, his face looking fierce for a brief second.
‘No,’ I said wearily. Who else was I going to phone at that time of day?
He gave my hand a brief squeeze and with a regretful smile said, ‘That’s sad.’ At least I think that’s what he said. It made no sense to me.
My doctor looked weary; his skin tone matched the institutional grey walls.
‘What have we got then? Another stabbing?’ he asked unsympathetically, looking at my bloody arm.
I glared at him and his grubby white coat. You never saw that on Casualty.
‘No,’ I said angrily. ‘Someone threw a brick through my window and I’ve got glass in my arm.’ I enunciated every word carefully to make sure he knew I wasn’t a mate of Shannon’s.
‘Ah.’ He looked chastened. ‘Let’s have a look then.’
The next hour was something I’d rather not dwell upon. Despite a hefty injection of something – in my arm, not bum – I felt every move that doctor made and it wasn’t pleas
ant.
Chapter Eight
Five-thirty and London was sluggishly waking up. Following the milk float down the street, he pulled to a halt in the nearest parking spot and turned to watch Olivia dozing next to him. She didn’t wake when he switched off the ignition. The painkillers must have kicked in.
Studying her face in the early morning light, he traced the outline of her chin, the high cheekbones and long fair lashes resting on her skin. He’d known her for so long, he took her attractiveness for granted but now looking at her uninterrupted, he realised how gorgeous she was. That bastard, whoever he was, had better appreciate her. It should have been him there last night, holding her, wiping away her tears, distracting her from the pain. Did Olivia realise that she’d settled for second place and that it would always be like this? A wave of sadness gripped him and he wanted to scoop Olivia up into his arms and hold her, tell her that he would look after her. Like he had last night.
She stirred, her face screwing up with pain and muttering. He gave a self-derisory half-laugh at his stupidity. Strong, capable Olivia, she always knew what she was doing. Who was he kidding? She didn’t need rescuing.
He gave her a prod, perhaps harder than necessary and she jolted awake. Yes, he was a jerk, an out of sorts jerk. Lack of sleep probably. It had been one hell of a long night. Glancing at his watch, he figured he could grab an hour and half’s kip before having to get up. Being his own boss might mean he could pick and choose his hours, but it also meant that too many people were relying on him. Since taking over the organic nursery from his dad, business had gone from strength to strength and they were now supplying a couple of supermarket chains with salad produce. A slew of meetings today meant he had to go in. He could have delegated but at this short notice it was hardly fair.
‘Come on, sleepy head. Let’s get you inside.’
With dopey eyes and drooping eyelids, she looked at him, confusion clouding her expression. Sleepy, adorable and totally trusting. God, he was a sucker.
