From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

  I lay in his bed feeling shaken and tearful - the episode had not been without pain for me. I could not believe that this was the same man who had whisked me off for a passionate weekend in Paris, and who had surprised me with a ring on St. Valentine’s Day. What on earth was going on?

  Ian emerged from the bathroom, and began to dress without a word, grim faced. I couldn’t bear it.

  I shrugged on my dressing gown, and went to him as he was fastening his cuff links, putting my arms round him and laying my head against his chest.

  “Please, Ian darling, don’t be like this. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t understand how you can make love to me and then just walk away,” I said, trying hard not to cry.

  He removed my arms and took a step back.

  “Did you think we were making love? That was just sex,” he said coldly, turning his attention to the knot in his tie.

  I stood there, dumbfounded. He put on his jacket, and picked up his car keys.

  “You’ll have to make your own way in to work this morning,” he said, and then I heard the door slam shut.

  I did cry then. After a while, I went into the bathroom, and showered and tried to compose myself ready for the working day. I even wondered whether I should still consider myself engaged to him after his behaviour towards me, and a dreary train of thoughts ran through my head - I would have to leave my friends and find a new job, it would mean starting all over again. For a moment, I thought wistfully of Nick. Even in our worst times, he had never treated me with such cold cruelty.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I mumbled to Robin, as I walked in to my office at least thirty minutes after I should have been there. He took one look at my face, and opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. I shut myself in, and tried to concentrate on work, but it was very hard going.

  I did not see Ian at all that day - not surprising, as I hardly ventured outside my safe little space. He would usually contact me as five o’clock approached, and we would agree what the plans were for the evening, but my telephone did not ring, and I was not going to call him.

  I wandered into the Ladies at about half past five. Ian’s secretary, Mara, was in there, applying lipstick before the mirror.

  She gave me a cool glance. I never felt she liked me, indeed, I often wondered whether there had been something between her and Ian in the past, but I didn’t like to raise the subject with him.

  “Hello Mara. Do you know where Ian is?” I asked, with an attempt at nonchalance.

  “He left half an hour ago,” she said, snapping the top back on her lipstick with a sharp movement. “Don’t you know where he is?”

  “Well, we’ve kept missing each other today,” I said, a false note of cheerfulness in my voice. I could not ask her for more information, it would have been too embarrassing.

  I debated whether to go to Chelsea or Wapping. In the end, I decided to go back to Chelsea. If Ian wanted to finish things, I might as well get it over with. However, the flat was empty when I got there. After a while, I opened a bottle of wine, and made myself a scratch meal, but I had little appetite.

  The evening wore on. When it got to ten o clock, I could bear it no longer. I found a case and started to pack up my possessions. I would go back to Wapping for good and there would be an end of it.

  I was just putting on my coat, when I heard Ian’s key in the door. He came in, looking calm and unruffled, and stared at me as I stood there with the case.

  “What on earth are you doing?” he asked.

  I remembered my unhappy day, and felt confused.

  “You were horrible to me this morning, Ian. I thought you wanted me to go,” I said, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I brushed them away miserably.

  He stepped towards me, and folded me into his arms.

  “Forgive me, my love, I’ve been a brute,” he whispered. “I can’t bear to be at odds with you. Whatever happened, it’s not worth all this pain. Of course I don’t want you to go, but please promise me you’ll be more circumspect in future. You really are an innocent at times.”

  “Nothing happened,” I tried to say, but he was kissing me so hard that the words were stifled.

  We fell on to the bed, and this time, it was making love, not having sex. The next morning, it was as though the day before had never been. Life went back to normal, but I was a little less comfortable in myself. I felt that there was a part of Ian I did not fully understand, and I hoped I would never find him so unreasonable again.

  Towards the end of May, Mackerras Mackay was galvanised by a board decision to open an office in America. There were a number of small, creative agencies there with whom negotiations might be appropriate, and Ian was asked to go to New York to begin the process.

  I was amused by the parallels with Nick and Sphere, the difference being that I had no fears about Ian not coming back.

  “Be good,” he told me, as I kissed him good bye at the airport. “And when I get back, we really must agree a date for the wedding.”

  I was looking forward to spending a whole month at Wapping, enjoying the security of my engagement, but also relishing some time to myself. It promised to be a happy few weeks.

  Chapter 23

  I was busy at my desk the following Tuesday morning, when the phone rang.

  “Eithne?”

  A voice I vaguely recognised came down the line.

  “It’s Rosine - Nick’s sister.”

  “Rosine?”

  A sudden chill swept over me.

  “What is it? Is Nick....?”

  She told me breathlessly that Nick was in St Thomas’ hospital with pneumonia, and was very ill.

  “He’s only just got back to England. The thing is - my au pair’s left me in the lurch, I can’t visit with the children, and my mother’s had a fall. I wondered whether you might be able to go in to see him today, just to check he has everything he needs. I know it’s an awful cheek, but you were always so fond of him, despite........” Her voice trailed off, she sounded distraught. “I rang your mother and she gave me your number. I can’t bear my little brother being so ill, and my not being able to do anything. Andrew’s got a meeting he can’t get out of. I don’t want to send a stranger, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

  “Of course I’ll go.”

  She gave me the details of the ward and visiting times.

  “Can you think of anything offhand that he might want?”

  I switched to practical mode now I had recovered from the initial shock.

  “I don’t know, some squash or fruit perhaps - I think he’s too ill to read, or anything. There’s a shop on the premises for basics. You are a good sort, Eithne. Will you ring me afterwards and let me know how he is?”

  I took her number, and promised to call. Then I went to Janie, and told her I would be out for a while that afternoon.

  It was with mixed feelings that I took a cab to the hospital. I was very sorry to think that Nick was unwell, but I was loath to risk disturbing my recent equilibrium, and hoped that doing this good turn would not rebound on my head.

  He was in a four bed ward, next to the window. I walked quietly up to him, and my heart almost stopped. A drip was in one arm, an oxygen cylinder stood by the bed, and he lay there, waxy, eyes closed, his breathing harsh and shallow. I thought for a horrible moment he was dying.

  “Nick?”

  I sank down on the chair by the bed, and took his hand, his skin was damp and feverish. He opened one eye.

  “Eithne? It’s you...”

  He gripped my fingers tightly, and I smoothed back his hair, which was matted and sweaty, and kissed his forehead. He sketched a travesty of his lovely smile.

  “I’ve been trying to find you......you’ve left Marsham and Hunter, your mother wouldn’t return my calls.....”

  “Well, she never felt quite the same about you after you shared the details of how you took her daughter’s virginity with the whole of Beresford.”

  I tried to keep my
tone light, to disguise my concern.

  “Not very much detail,” he protested, and coughed harshly. I helped him to a drink of water, and he sank back on the pillows, panting a little. I was frightened by his appearance, and the terrible breathing.

  “How on earth did you get this, Nick?” I asked softly.

  “I was in South America just before I left Sphere. They seem to think I picked up some bug there. It suddenly got a lot worse....” He coughed again.

  “You’ve left Sphere?”

  “I’m writing features for The Telegraph from next month...based in London now.”

  I put this bit of news aside to think about later.

  “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

  “Just be here....” He closed his eyes, and I kissed him gently.

  I forgot all about the threats I had issued down the telephone after the Sphere article was published. My heart had belly flopped and landed at his feet as soon as I saw him - I could not bear to see my beautiful Nick suffering, perhaps in pain.

  I sat there with his hand in mine, and wondered why I could not rid myself of this pervasive, aching love for him which persisted despite the separations and the years. It seemed terribly unfair. He didn’t deserve it, and I was the one who always ended up with the tears and the heartache. Fond though I was of Ian, I knew at that moment I did not feel for him the way I still did - and would seemingly always feel - for Nick.

  On the way to the hospital, I had surreptitiously slipped off my engagement ring, and put it in my bag. Time enough for explanations when Nick was better, I told myself.

  Nick seemed to be dozing now, his breathing fast and shallow. I looked round the ward. Two grey faced elderly men stared impassively from the beds opposite, in the next bed, a thin dark skinned man called “Nurse - nurse - nurse” in a low whine. No one responded. It was a terribly depressing scene.

  I sat there for a while, just holding his hand. Eventually, a uniformed figure materialised, and I motioned to her.

  “Excuse me, I wondered whether you can give me any information about Mr DeLisle’s condition?” I asked, breathless myself with concern.

  “Are you a relative?”

  Her eyes were cold and impersonal, her voice sharp.

  “No - but his sister and mother can’t get here today. They’re very anxious to know how he is,” I replied, beseeching her, with my eyes, to lighten up. She pursed her lips, but took his notes from the end of the bed, and turned to the last pages.

  “He has a bad pneumonia, but the lab think they have identified the bacterium now, and he started a new antibiotic today. We should see an improvement tomorrow, if that’s the case.”

  She clopped away with heavy feet. I turned back to Nick, whose eyes had opened at our conversation.

  “God, this is an awful place. I hope you get better soon,” I exclaimed.

  “Me too.”

  He struggled as is if he wanted to sit more upright, and I hastened to help him with his pillows. His face was terribly pale and ashy looking.

  When he was settled, he seemed to breathe a little more easily. He reached out, and wound a curl of my hair round his fingers and his eyes devoured me as if he were starving.

  “I’ve longed and longed for you.....” he whispered.

  This was torture. I moved closer, and hugged his head against my chest.

  “I’m here now.”

  He sighed, and relaxed against me, like a small child in its mother’s arms, and I dropped a few tears on to the matted hair. We sat like that for a long time, until a fresh bout of coughing disturbed our peace.

  I helped him to drink again and resettled him in the bed.

  “How did you know I was in here?” he croaked.

  “Rosine rang me. She couldn’t visit today, so I said I’d come. Is there anything you want, Nick, from the shop I mean, can I go and get you anything?” I asked, wishing I could do something positive for the poor sufferer.

  “No, just stay with me.”

  I sat beside him until visiting time was over, not saying very much, cuddling him against me, murmuring nonsense, kissing and stroking his face and hair. I didn’t care whether anyone saw us, I just wanted to hold him and love him and make him better. Eventually, a bell rang.

  “Nick?” He was dozing feverishly again. “That’s the end of visiting, I have to leave now. But I’ll come back this evening.”

  I kissed him again. He smiled weakly at me.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, of course. Try to sleep now, my darling.”

  I could feel him yearning for me as I walked away,

  I took a cab back to the Agency, and called Rosine. She seemed relieved that they had identified the cause of the illness, but I had to be blunt when I said I thought he still seemed very ill.

  “I’ll go again tonight, but they said he may not start showing any improvement until after tomorrow. When you speak to your mother, tell her I’ll do everything I can for him,” I said.

  “Bless you, Eithne. I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

  I slumped at my desk, sifting through the messages which had accumulated in my absence, although I could not get myself worked up about daily matters after the afternoon I had spent. There was a knock, and Robin stood in the doorway.

  Our relationship had never been quite the same after our spat following the announcement of my engagement. Something of trust had gone from between us and I regretted it, although I knew it was not necessarily my fault.

  “Don’t leave us, Eithne,” he said, with an air of melodrama. I couldn’t think what on earth he meant. He looked at my blank face.

  “You were out such a long time this afternoon, I assumed you had gone for an interview,” he explained.

  “No.”

  I looked down at the paperwork on my desk, and burst into sobs.

  “Jesus…..”

  He came into my cubicle, and put an arm round my shoulders. “What is it, are you missing Ian, or something?”

  My sobs redoubled at that. Robin patted me, until I had calmed down, and then shepherded me into his office, where we could sit more comfortably. I got through a few more tissues, while he fetched some tea.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked, when I had finished crying. I nodded, and it all came out - the call from Rosine, the hospital, the awful, wrenching sight of Nick being so unwell. I needed to be honest with someone.

  “The worst of it is that I realised I still adore him,” I said bleakly. “After all this time, after all that’s happened, even after Ian, I can’t shift Nick out of my heart.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “I see you’re not wearing your engagement ring,” Robin observed.

  “No. I thought I wouldn’t get into that with Nick until he was better,” I explained.

  We sipped our tea, and I tried to understand the import of what I was saying.

  “So - Eithne - what do you want to happen?” Robin asked after a while.

  “That’s the trouble, I don’t know. Part of me wants to say to hell with Nick, he only brings me problems, best stick with Ian - at least I know where I am with him. Then I think, how can I marry Ian, knowing I love someone else more than I love him?”

  I hesitated, it wasn’t just a question of love, there was also the memory of recent events which had sown a seed of doubt in my mind regarding our relationship, but I couldn’t talk about that.

  “And God knows what Nick wants, anyway. Once he’s better he’ll probably bugger off to Australia for a change.”

  A sudden awful thought struck me, and I looked sharply across at Robin.

  “You must promise not to say anything about this to anyone, especially Ian. Promise me, Robin.”

  “I do, I won’t say anything,” he assured me. “Of course, you can’t blame me for hoping you’ll give Ian the heave-ho.”

  His face brightened momentarily.

  “Well if I do, I’ll probably have to leave Mackerras Mackay
, so be careful what you wish for.”

  We stared at each other, pondering the imponderables. Finally, Robin said:

  “Eithne, I shouldn’t be in a hurry about any of this. You’re upset today because Nick is ill, but you have nothing else concrete to go on. You haven’t seen Nick for two years. For all you know, he’s got an American girlfriend tucked away somewhere like you have Ian. Take things one day at a time. When Nick gets better, you may decide that he isn’t quite what you remembered, or he may make it plain that he’s not up for renewing your relationship. You might even decide that you prefer Ian after all. For God’s sake, put yourself first for once, anyway.”

  What he said made sense. I blew my nose again, and started to feel better.

  “Sorry, Robin. It was just such a shock seeing him like that. But you’re right, I can’t make any decisions at the moment.”

  I got up.

  “It’ll soon be evening visiting, so I’ll have to go. I’ll come in early tomorrow to make up for this afternoon.”

  “Don’t worry about that, take the time you need. And I’m taking you to the pub for a quick bite to eat before you go back to the hospital. No point in you collapsing as well.”

  I felt happier as I sat in the taxi going back to St Thomas’s. Robin had talked sense, and I felt that our relationship had mended as a result of our frank discussion. That was important to me.

  Nick still looked terrible when I returned to the ward, and it was awful to feel I could do so little to help him. As in the afternoon, he clung to me, and I petted and soothed him as much as I could. Just before I had to leave, a red haired Scottish doctor came in, and looked with interest at us.

  “Ah - the girlfriend, I see.” (I wasn’t going to contradict him.) “Your young man’s been very poorly, but I think I see a slight improvement tonight. How are you feeling, Nicholas?”

  “Better for having her here.”

  He coughed, with the effort of speaking, grimacing, and I hastened to get his water.