Patrick thanked her, and they all trooped out of the door and back to his car, Katie yawning all the way.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he said, glancing at the tired child, and Annie nodded.
‘Please. And thank you for worrying about Scruff.’
He laughed. ‘My pleasure.’
They were on the way when a thought occurred to Patrick. ‘He’s coming out tomorrow, isn’t he?’
‘I suppose so,’ Annie said slowly, ‘and he’ll need looking after.’
‘And I can’t have pets in my house. It’s in my rental agreement, so he’ll have to come to you.’
She turned to him. ‘But I’m away this weekend for four days,’ she said, wide-eyed. ‘I’ll have to cancel the job.’
‘No!’ he said, perhaps a little too hastily. ‘Don’t be silly. I was thinking of taking Friday off anyway. If you give me a key, I can move into your house for the weekend, while you’re away. I’ll look after Scruff.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she said doubtfully.
‘Positive.’
And that solved the problem of the key.
They collected Scruff on Wednesday afternoon, as soon as Patrick could get away.
Alfie had been fretting when she’d got to work, but by the time he’d had his operation to fix his jaw, he was out of it for hours and he hadn’t really surfaced again when she left work at three.
Katie was dying of excitement, but Annie was beginning to wonder if it would be such a great idea. Not that she had a choice because the dog had to live somewhere until Alfie had recovered, and she’d promised him, but it meant Patrick would be staying in her house over the weekend to look after the dog, and frankly she was so ashamed of the place she didn’t know where to start.
Not that there was anything she could do to make it better. It was already clean and tidy, it just needed a cash injection she couldn’t afford to give it and the benefit of a new owner.
She spent the time before Patrick arrived cleaning her bedroom and the bathroom and changing the sheets for him, because she’d have enough to do in the morning before they set off straight after school. She’d switched her normal late shift to an early, which meant that they could catch the four o’clock bus if everything was ready to go tonight before they went to bed.
So she cleaned and she made the bed, and she wondered if he’d be able to sleep under her cheap polyester quilt after the luxury of his goose-down one. She’d retrieved Scruff’s blanket from Alfie’s pitch outside the flats and washed it twice, and it was folded up in the corner of the sitting room beside the radiator.
She just hoped he’d settle all right in the house, because he wasn’t used to it and he’d lived outside most of his life with Alfie.
‘Mummy, Patrick’s here!’ Katie shrieked, erupting from her vantage point in the bay window and racing down the stairs to let him in. Annie crossed to the window and watched as Katie flew down the path and threw herself into his arms.
He picked her up and whirled her round, laughing, then hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Are you excited, by any chance?’ he asked, and Katie laughed.
‘It’s going to be so cool! I’ve always wanted a dog, and now we’re going to have one!’
‘Only till Alfie’s better,’ he reminded her, and for a moment her face seemed to fall.
Oh, dear. Was she really going to fall in love with the dog so that giving him back to Alfie would break her little heart? Please, no. And what about Patrick? The way she’d greeted him, they were obviously getting close.
And he’d told her he was falling in love with her.
Could they really take their time? Play it by ear? That was what she’d suggested, but she wondered now if it was possible, or if she should have cooled things off. She was just so scared, so reluctant to hand over control of any part of their lives to anyone else, and while she was taking her time, Patrick and Katie were getting in deeper and deeper.
‘Annie?’
‘Nearly ready,’ she called, and straightened the quilt, just as he appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. ‘I’ve just changed the sheets for you,’ she told him. ‘I’m afraid I won’t have time to do it tomorrow, but I will only have slept in them for one night.’
His smile was teasing. ‘Oh, dear. How shocking. Fancy sleeping in your sheets.’
She gave him a stem look. ‘Don’t start,’ she warned, feeling her colour rise, and turned to Katie. ‘Now, young lady, that dog isn’t coming on your bed, is that clear? At least, not until he’s had a bath.’
They arrived to collect Scruff and the vet came out to talk to them. ‘All fixed, and he shouldn’t have any lasting problems. It’s pinned and wired, and he’ll need the pin out in about eight weeks, and then he’ll be fine, but that’s included in the cost of the operation. Now, he has to wear a collar that looks like a lampshade so he doesn’t chew his stitches out, and he’ll need that on all the time he’s alone, but just watch him at first until he’s used to it because he’ll walk into furniture and things. He’s on antibiotics and painkillers, which are here. Start them tomorrow.’
And the receptionist handed Patrick the bill.
He paid it without a murmur, and Annie didn’t frankly want to know how much it was. Huge, no doubt, but Scruff was so pleased to see them when they brought him out that she couldn’t allow herself to think about it. And she would have found a way to pay it herself, even if it had meant putting’ back the refitting of her kitchen.
‘They’ve done it at cost,’ he told her on the way home. ‘Scruff must have got to them.’
‘He’s a sweetheart—and he’s not alone. Thank you, Patrick,’ she said, and leant over and kissed his cheek. He flashed her a smile, and out of the corner of her eye she caught Katie’s curious look.
Uh-oh. Little miss busybody was going to be asking questions now, and Annie just hoped they weren’t too tricky, because she had the difficulty of not being able to lie, not even a little white one for the sake of propriety.
But maybe Katie wouldn’t think anything of it. She kissed Patrick all the time, so why shouldn’t her mother?
Scruff took one look at his blanket, hopped three-legged onto the chair in the bay window, curled up and went to sleep.
Annie’s face fell, but it was all Patrick could do not to laugh. There was nothing the dog could do to the furniture after all, and it was better that he should be relaxed than in what they considered to be the right place.
‘You can always put the blanket on the chair when he moves,’ he pointed out, and she nodded.
‘I will. Alfie will be so pleased he’s all right. I said I’d phone, I’d better do it now,’ she told him, and she did so, passing on the message via Sue. ‘He’s still a bit groggy, so Sue’s going to tell him when he wakes up,’ she reported, and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with some tea.
‘That room’s so awful, I can’t believe it’s going to be done soon,’ she said. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
Patrick nearly choked on his tea.
* * *
Alfie was sitting up waiting for news in the morning, and Annie went straight to see him.
‘How is he?’ he asked before she was even at his bedside. He looked as if he’d gone ten rounds with a pro boxer, but at least he was clean now and smelt better.
‘He’s fine,’ she promised. ‘Spoilt to death. He spent the night on the chair.’
‘Oh, he likes chairs,’ he said slowly and with difficulty. ‘He used to sleep on the missus’s chair after she died.’ His face fell. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll want to come back out on the streets with me when I get out of here.’
‘Alfie, I’m sure he misses you,’ she assured him. ‘He’ll be really pleased to see you again.’
‘If I ever get out of here. The missus came in and never left. She died in here, and I’ve been on my own ever since.’ Annie perched on the bed and took his good hand. ‘You must miss her.’
‘I do. M
iss all sorts of things. Miss being warm, miss going to bed at night—brought it on myself, though. Started drinking and that was that. Had to move out, and it’s all gone on from there.’
‘Oh, Alfie. Have you ever thought about going into a home?’
He stared at her as if she was mad. ‘They wouldn’t have me,’ he said, shocked. ‘And I don’t know if I’d have them. All those rules and things.’
She chuckled. ‘You never know, you might like it. Company, people to talk to, nice comfy bed, warm rooms, regular meals?’
‘And what about Scruff? I couldn’t do that to him.’
‘Even if he went to a good home?’ she said, wondering if she’d gone completely insane but somehow not quite in control of her tongue. As usual.
Alfie searched her face doubtfully. ‘You’d take him?’
She sighed inwardly. ‘If it meant you were safe and comfortable, yes, Alfie, I would, but I’d rather not. I’m at work all the time, and when I go away for the weekend I wouldn’t have anyone to look after him, but I could find someone...’
‘It’s got to be you or no one,’ he said flatly. ‘I couldn’t let him go to just anyone.’ He dropped his head back against the pillow and sighed. ‘Can’t talk any more. Hurts too much.’
‘Just think about it,’ she begged, and left him to rest.
She kept an eye on him through the day, and so did Patrick, nipping in a couple of times to check on the old boy. And then suddenly it was time to go.
‘You off?’ Patrick said, appearing on the ward.
‘Yes. We’re catching the four o’clock bus. I’m just going home to get our things and then I’m getting a taxi to the bus station.’
‘No need. I’ll run you there. There’s nothing much going on and Raj can cover it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. And I’ll pick you up on Monday afternoon, as well.’
‘Monday morning. I have to get Katie back in time for school, and then I’ll go to bed. Our bus gets in at eight-thirty—but don’t worry, I’ll get a taxi. You’ll be at work by then. I’ll be fine.’
He dropped Annie and Katie off at the bus station, and she began to fret. ‘You will go straight back and check on Scruff, won’t you?’ she said anxiously. ‘You have got the key?’
‘Yes, I’ve got the key and, yes, I’m going straight back. You take care and don’t work too hard.’
She smiled and leant over to kiss him. ‘Thanks. Think of me as you have your nice lazy weekend with the dog.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Oh, I will,’ he promised, and with a little wave he drove off.
‘Guess what?’
Fliss looked at him questioningly. ‘Don’t like the sound of that.’
‘No. We’ve lost Monday. She’s coming back in the morning, not the afternoon.’
‘What?’ Fliss put down the heavy toolbox she was carrying and stared at him, then shrugged and went out again. He followed her. Surely she wasn’t leaving?
No. Thank God. ‘We’ll just have to work faster,’ she said matter-of-factly, and so they did. By the time the others arrived a little after six, having sorted out their home lives and changed, the wall was down, the kitchen door and frame were out and the studwork was under way to fill the space.
‘Good God,’ Sally said faintly. ‘You lot don’t hang about.’
‘We’ve lost Monday—Annie’s coming back at half eight,’ Patrick told her, harrowing the next load of rubble out of the door. Fliss’s chums had delivered the skip at five, right on cue, and it was filling up fast.
Faster now. Tom came out with another load, and in short order the rubble was gone, the dust under control and the kettle boiling.
‘I can’t do much but I can make tea for England,’ Sally said, handing around the mugs, and they paused and took stock. It was nearly eight, the doorway was all but closed up and the back door was next on the list. Patrick had already shifted all the furniture out before Fliss arrived, and now he and Tom moved the washing machine and cooker out into the garage.
By the time they’d finished, Sally was repairing little holes in the wall with filler, and Fliss was busy wrecking the back door. By the time they stopped for the night, the walls that didn’t need skimming were filled, the doorways were gone and everything was clean, ready for the next day’s work.
And Scruff, who had limped in and out and watched them curiously, was curled up on the chair, having decided it was all too tedious, and was having another sleep. Sally had fed him and taken him out for a little walk in the garden, and he’d scrounged odd scraps of pizza from everyone. Once they’d all gone, Patrick dropped onto the sofa, another cup of tea and the plans in hand, and studied the layout while Scruff sneaked up onto the sofa beside him and licked his hand.
‘That looks awfully uncomfortable,’ Patrick said softly, and, undoing Scruff’s collar, eased the plastic cone off his head and let him scratch his ears. ‘Better now?’ he asked, and Scruff thumped his skinny little tail and licked him again, before resting his head on Patrick’s leg and closing his eyes with a sigh.
He wasn’t the only one ready to close his eyes. Five minutes, Patrick promised himself. Just five minutes...
It was four hours before he woke, cold, stiff and uncomfortable. After taking Scruff outside again for one last wander around the garden and putting the collar on him before settling him down for the night, he went upstairs, stripped off his clothes and slid in between Annie’s sheets.
He could smell her shampoo on the pillow. He wondered how she was doing, how she was managing to stay awake after working all day. Heaven knew. He was exhausted. He breathed in the scent of her, curiously comforting, almost as if she were there with him. Breathing deeply, he snuggled down, shifted to avoid a random spring, and fell asleep in seconds.
Friday was frustrating.
Fliss skimmed, and Patrick mixed up her plaster with a whisk thing on the end of the electric drill and fed it to her at a steady rate. In between he painted the other bits of wall, giving them a first coat.
He was itching to get to grips with the units, but the plaster had to dry then be painted before he could really start that.
‘How’s that?’ Fliss asked, coming down off her ladder and giving the ceiling one last critical glance.
‘Excellent. The slight change in level hardly shows.’
Fliss grunted. ‘It’ll show when it’s painted, but it’s the best I can do without skimming the whole lot, and I’m not good enough to do that. That’s a job for later. Are all the electrics in the right place?’
‘I believe so. It looks like some of the wiring’s been done already. There are sockets in odd places if not, and there’s been some filling above them. At least the cooker’s going in the same place.’
She nodded. ‘Right, let’s give that time to dry off and have a look at the units.’
Finally!
It was finished.
Tom and Ben had come back later, and Sally had spent Saturday and Sunday with them, and between them they’d got it all done in time.
Patrick was exhausted. He’d worked on after the others had left the previous night, getting the doors on and the plinth and bits of trim sorted, and when the others had arrived shortly after dawn, they’d tackled the worktops and then connected up the sink and dishwasher. And, hey, presto, water in the taps!
The range cooker, never even unwrapped, had been brought in and connected up by a registered gas plumber who, as Sally had prophesied, was a friend of Fliss’s that owed her a favour. It must have been a hell of a favour to get him out at nine on a Sunday night, Patrick thought, but he came, and he did it cheerfully enough. Then there were the last finishing touches and a massive clean-up, and they were done.
‘Well, I reckon that’s it,’ Fliss said with satisfaction, and Patrick stared at everything they’d achieved and felt emotion well in his chest.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said unevenly. ‘I don’t know how to start thanking you.’
&n
bsp; He broke off, pressing his lips together hard and looking away.
He’d forgotten what friends were, the unplumbed depths of decency and humanity that made it all worthwhile. But this crew, friends and friends of friends, had pulled out all the stops for Annie, and together they’d done it. Achieved the impossible, in record time.
‘Hey, it’s all right,’ Tom said, clamping a hand firmly on his shoulder and squeezing hard. Patrick reached up and touched it, cementing the link that had been forged between them in the last few days, and he knew that words were unnecessary.
He started to smile, and then they were all hugging and laughing, standing back to admire their handiwork.
‘I reckon there might be something rather nice in that fridge,’ Ben said, and, opening it, he grinned and brandished a bottle of bubbly.
There was only one glass each, but it was enough to celebrate the occasion, and then they were going, the last tools loaded into Fliss’s van, the last glass washed and dried, the sink wiped clean.
Annie would be back in six hours, Patrick realised as he put the dog to bed, and he felt a flicker of something suspiciously like nerves.
Would she like it? Dear lord, he hoped so, because they’d done everything according to her plan. So why was he so edgy?
It was over.
She’d worked her last weekend, and if she didn’t do the structural stuff, she’d finally got enough money to get the kitchen done, slap a quick coat of something harmless on all the walls and get the house on the market.
And maybe then she’d get some time with her daughter, some real time, time to enjoy each other and have fun together.
Exhausted, hardly able to stand up any more, she put her key in the door and let herself in, then came to a halt.
A Wife and Child to Cherish (Audley Memorial Hospital) Page 14
