by Isobel Hart
“So, tell me about the crash,” he said at our first meeting, head tilted to one side.
I had. I’d told him how close Edward had come to dying. I’d explained how his heart stopped beating for a time, my eyes brimming with tears as I recalled the horror. When I’d finished, wiping my tears away with a tissue and then blowing my nose noisily, he’d shifted in his seat, eyes scanning the room as if looking for an escape. “Yes, well, I think we should park that now,” he managed. “What anaesthetic products were they using? Did you notice? Sales are down in that part of your territory.”
I somehow stifled the urge to scream into his corporately composed exterior. Instead, I nodded, and we acted as if nothing had happened.
Back in the same hospital coffee shop that had been my respite for so many weeks, while Edward had been an in-patient here, I watched the flow of people as they arrived. They sought solace in the caffeine and sugar, just as I had, before stoically returning to whomever they were here to see, their faces a palette of despair through to boredom. Patients in dressing gowns and doctors in white coats peppered the tables. I knew only too well the need to escape the monotony of the sickbed.
“Samantha?”
I jumped, and looked up. “Oh, thank God, it’s you,” I laughed with relief at the sight of Doctor Elliott Harvey standing beside my table.
“How are you? How are things?” He smiled, flashing his dimples as he looked down at my leg. He looked as good as I remembered. Handsome, I found myself thinking, his perfectly straight white teeth co-ordinating with his coat.
“Okay. . . Better . . . Good.” Elliott seemed unconcerned by my inability to speak sentences, looking longingly at the chair opposite me. “Do you want to sit down?” I offered.
“Great, yes,” he said with another blinding grin.
I kicked myself, as he slid into the seat, placing his herbal tea on the table in front of him. “Nice.” I nodded at the tea.
“It is. Triple shot?” he said, looking into my empty cup.
“Mocha.” It touched me he’d remembered.
“Coffee and chocolate?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to talk about it?”
“Jesus, don’t start me off.” There was more wobble in my voice than I’d intended.
“Work?” He looked at my briefcase. “Home?” Maybe I imagined it, but he sounded hopeful.
“A bit of both,” I said, wondering why I was always so honest with this guy.
He placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together, resting his chin on the top as he looked at me. “Would it help to tell me about it?” I found myself wanting to.
“It’s very dull and self-obsessed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’d like to think we’re friends now.” He was ignoring the fact we’d spent less than a couple of hours together in total, and most of that had been whilst he cared for Edward. “Friends listen to what’s going on in each other’s lives. I’ll tell you about my car problems if you tell me about whatever has you skulking down in this godforsaken coffee hole.”
“Car problems?” I looked up at him. “I had you down as more of a skateboard kind of guy.”
He smiled more broadly. “It’s been known,” he confirmed, “but they cause too many accidents. These hands are precious.” He waggled his fingers at me. “Anyway, enough of me. What’s going on?”
“I hate my job. Always have, always will. Oh, and Edward’s had a complete personality transplant.”
“Okay . . . Work first. Why do you do it if you hate it? You don’t seem the kind of person to waste your life doing something you hate.”
“I am if it means I can afford to eat. If money were no object I’d do photography, but it doesn’t pay enough. Not straight away, anyway. If everything were great with Edward, then maybe . . .”
“But it’s not?”
“It’s better-ish. I don’t know. He’s different since the accident.”
“Different how?” He sounded like a doctor again now.
“Umm, I don’t know.” This stuff was personal. I fidgeted on my seat. “He just doesn’t do the same things he used to. He’s more . . . thoughtful.”
Elliott frowned. “That doesn’t seem so bad.” He sounded sorry as he said it.
“You’d think. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. He just doesn’t seem like the same guy. Things are different . . . between us . . .” I hesitated to tell him, but in the end decided to anyway, “intimately.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like being in bed with someone completely different.”
His eyebrows nearly vanished through his hairline. “Good different or bad different? I’m impressed he’s even rediscovered his libido after what he went through. That was some major surgery.”
“Oh, he’s discovered it alright. In fact, he wants to have a baby now. He hated anything to do with kids before.”
For a moment, Elliott couldn’t hide his horrified response. It took him a full five seconds before he masked his expression. “Well, it sounds like you two are making a go of things. If you’re worried, you should mention it to the neurologist at your next outpatient appointment. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about – just the after-effects of a near-death experience, I would imagine.” He sounded professional; a doctor’s voice, cold and impersonal. “It tends to make people appreciate what they have a little more,” he added, looking at me for a second before staring back down at his tea.
An awkward silence settled between us before I finally broke it. “Well, I’d better–”
“Yeah,” he agreed, before knowing for sure what I was going to say.
We both stood, chairs scraping as they slid in unison across the linoleum floor. We hesitated, uncertain who would move first, resulting in yet another awkward standoff. “After you,” he offered finally. Ever the gentleman.
We walked in silence along the sterile corridors. Side-by-side, as Elliott stared at his feet and I scanned the faces of the people around us. It was a rep habit, just in case any of the doctors I needed to talk to unfortunately – for them – happened to be walking along the corridor. “Richard?” I said, surprised to see his familiar face exiting a ward as we walked past.
He jumped, turning towards us, face flushed. “Oh . . . Hi . . . Sam.”
He scanned the corridor, seeming unable to look me in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”
He squirmed. Elliott looked on with interest beside me.
“A check-up,” he managed after a long pause.
“Here?” Elliott sounded surprised. “This is a general medicine ward. I think you’ll find your check-up is in Outpatients.”
“Oh, yes.” Richard looked relieved. “That’s what I was looking for. Do you know where I’m meant to go?”
Elliott frowned, but gave directions, then we both watched as Richard walked off in the direction Elliott had pointed. “That was odd,” I said, once he’d turned the corner.
Elliott nodded thoughtfully. “Did you ever find out any more about how Edward got to know him?” he asked as we carried on walking.
“He met him in here. The hospital put them in touch . . . a patient group for people who’d survived medical trauma, or something.”
Elliott made a surprised noise.
“Why?”
“I’ve never heard of a group like that. It’s true though . . . that guy, Richard, he had a really similar outcome to Edward.”
I stopped walking and turned to look at Elliott. “What do you mean?”
“On the night Edward came in – the night his heart stopped and then started again?”
I nodded.
“Richard came in having suffered a massive heart attack. He was in acute heart failure, his second heart attack in a month. The prognosis was poor, really poor. I didn’t think he’d make it – no one did – because his heart was so damaged. He was on the transplant list, but none of us thought he’d be alive long enough to get one. But then, like Edward, his
heart stopped and then started again. He’s made a complete recovery. His cardiologist told me his heart has never been so healthy.”
I stared at Elliott, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “His heart stopped and then started again?”
“Look, I probably shouldn’t have told you that. His medical history is confidential.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“It just seemed so odd.”
It was odd. “Maybe, like they said, they made friends because they both had that experience? Maybe the hospital told Richard about Edward, and he made a point of introducing himself.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, but he didn’t sound convinced.
A thought struck me. “Wouldn’t a guy who’d had heart failure most of his life, and needed regular hospital check-ups, know where the outpatient’s department was located?”
“You’d think so.” Elliott looked at me for a moment as we both tried to wrap our brains around what had just happened.
“Is it me, or was all that a bit weird?”
“Definitely weird.” We’d reached the hospital reception area. “Well.” He turned to face me, “look after yourself. Don’t forget to come and see me if you’re in again.”
“You might regret saying that if I’m down on my numbers. I’ll be in every day.”
“I wouldn’t mind. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
Another of those awkward moments arrived, where what we both wanted to say seemed somehow inappropriate, and we couldn’t hug, but shaking hands seemed too formal for the friendship we’d already formed. In the end, we said and did nothing, just looked at each other for a long moment. I had enough complications in my life right now without adding to them.
“Hey, at least take my number so you can let me know if you’re going to be coming to the hospital,” Elliott said, trying to lighten the moment.
I delved into my oversized handbag and found my phone. Pressing my thumb to the pad I unlocked it, then handed it to him, watching as he entered his number and then called his own phone.
“Well . . .” I wanted some distance now, needing to think. I walked backwards, away from him, while he watched me. “I’ll see you soon,” I promised.
“I hope so.”
I turned and stepped quickly out into the car park. It was warm again, making me regret the black trouser suit I’d chosen this morning, as I made my way over to the row where I’d parked my car. I slung my briefcase onto the back seat, before sliding in behind the steering wheel. Inserting the key in the ignition to start the engine, my radio blaring to life. A familiar figure walked with undue haste in front of my car, towards a silver Ford parked a couple of rows over – Richard.
He would have barely had time to reach the reception of the outpatients’ department, located on the other side of the hospital, in the time since he’d left us in the corridor. He would definitely not have had time to wait to be seen by anyone. His presence in the car park made me wonder what he’d actually been doing in the hospital, because it sure as hell hadn’t been to attend an outpatient appointment. And, more importantly, why he’d felt the need to lie to us.
Chapter 9
“I don’t know what you were thinking, setting this up.” Edward dragged his feet, forcing me to slow down. He’d been moaning since we’d left the flat. I was already in a bad mood because my jeans were tighter than usual – a symptom of my inability to exercise for weeks. I felt fat and ugly, despite having made the effort to dress up and make myself look good.
Our first excursion out as a couple since the accident, it had taken longer than I’d planned to get everyone together thanks to Heidi’s husband Paul’s work commitments. More than three weeks had passed since I’d last seen Heidi, and in that time Edward had shown no interest in going out – with or without me. He’d seemed perfectly content to stay in with me every Friday night. And every other night of the week. I’d found his company surprisingly pleasant.
“Heidi and Paul will be there, and I invited Julian and Victoria too.” Julian and Victoria were the couple whose wedding we’d attended. His friends, not mine, I’d invited them to please him. “I’ve got the photos I took at the wedding. They felt terrible when they heard about the accident. They’ve been trying to get over to see us since they got back off honeymoon.”
“I would imagine Victoria just wants to get her hands on your pictures, in case they’re better than their professional shots.”
“Well . . . anyway, they were worried about you.” I tugged at the bustier top I’d chosen to wear. In the light of my too-tight jeans, it now seemed a bad choice.
Edward grabbed hold of my hand, forcing me to halt, then turned me to face him. “Have I told you how fucking amazing you look tonight?” He pulled me against his chest. I giggled as he spun and walked me backwards until my back hit the rough brick wall. Then he reached for my knee, lifting my thigh, fitting himself against me, only our clothes separating us. “I’d rather get to appreciate you alone than have to sit in a crowd.” He kissed me. “I’m not going to be able to think about, let alone look at, anything but you in that top tonight.” He pressed more gentle kisses against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “All I can think about is what it’ll be like to unwrap you.”
Tempted for a second to turn around and go straight home, I remembered Heidi’s text, telling me know she couldn’t wait to see us, and guilt dampened my ardour. “We can’t. They’re waiting, come on.” I twisted out of his grip and pushed away from the wall, grabbing his hand and tugging him across the road behind me, towards the bar.
It was just as well we hadn’t ditched them, because the group had secured a window table, watching our little street display from their front row seats. We walked in to a round of applause. “Jesus, Sam,” Heidi said, as I took the chair she’d saved for me beside her own, “I thought he was going to fuck you against the wall. I was actually a little turned on watching you.” She laughed.
She laughed even harder when, in my mortification, my face heated, presumably turning me the colour of a raspberry.
“Can you blame me?” Edward pulled up a stool from another table, slipping it in beside my own. He leant across and kissed me. Heidi’s eyes bugged out, while I squirmed with yet more embarrassment.
“Come and help me get the drinks in,” she said, as soon as he released me, yanking me up by the arm and pulling me along behind her.
“Can I help?” Edward called after us, standing in readiness.
“No,” Heidi squeaked. “We’ve got this.” She towed me towards the bar. “What the fuck was that?” she said, when we had enough distance that we weren’t within earshot.
“I told you, he’s different since the accident.”
“Different is one thing, but that’s a complete personality transplant. What’s with all the PDA? Edward hates PDA. He used to give Paul and me a hard time just for holding hands, and now he’s practically humping you in the street. What the fuck?”
“I know. It’s hard to get your head around, but he’s all about displays of affection now, public or otherwise. It’s all a bit overwhelming,” I admitted, as we ordered drinks.
“And sitting next to you like that!”
“I know,” I said with a groan.
“Can I offer to buy you lovely ladies a drink?” a guy beside us offered, his eyes glued to my bosoms. They were busy trying to push their way out the top of my corset again.
“Thanks, but–”
“Back off,” Edward said, materialising beside me, shouldering between us and the now slightly bewildered guy. “Look elsewhere.” He fixed the poor man with a stare, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Edward,” I scolded, embarrassed by his unnecessary level of aggression.
He ignored me and continued to face the other guy down.
The man looked like he might make a stand, but then must have seen something in Edward’s expression that made him step away. “Sorry, love,” he threw over his shoulder as soon as
he’d been served. “Maybe next time, when you’ve got rid of The Hulk here.” He nodded towards Edward, who tensed as if he planned to follow him.
“Edward, please.” I placed a hand on his arm. “Stop, I’m begging you.”
He turned to look at me, his face still tight with anger. “Just so long as they know who you’re with.” He pulled me against him, pressing his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. His tension eased, as if my presence calmed him somehow.
I swallowed and nodded, stepping away to collect our drinks from the bar. I handed a couple to him. He took them then walked back to join the others.
Heidi stared at me open-mouthed. “What the fucking fuck!”
“I did tell you,” I said, exasperated. I’d gotten used to the new Edward; it was kind of weird being reminded just how different he seemed now.
“That was the hottest freaking thing ever,” she said. “He was like all grrr, and the other guy was like all grrr, and you were all swoony, and they nearly fought over you. Fucking hell.” She laughed, fanning herself.
“It’s not funny. Don’t encourage him. He’s still a philandering bastard, remember?”
“I’m trying hard to but I have to say the ‘new’ Edward is making my girly bits gush.”
“Oh, please Heidi! Too much information.”
“Do you think if I drive the car into a wall and Paul bangs his head he might come back all growly alpha male like that too?” she mused.
“Maybe, or all dead, like Edward nearly was.”
“Good point.” She sighed.
Edward hadn’t taken his eyes off me. As soon as I reached my seat, he placed a hand upon my thigh, leaned over and kissed my cheek. Victoria huffed a little breath of annoyance. Heidi grinned, making gushing gestures with her hands under the table.
***
“They’re so much better than the professional ones,” Victoria raved about the photos for the tenth time. I fidgeted, unused to her praise. “With that fog shit all over us we looked like we were made of Play-Doh in the ones taken out front. Thank God for yours, at least we still look like human beings. Oh, thank you so much.”
