-:-
Dave arrived at home just in time for tea. His body was still awash with the warm glow of making love to Rose and their time together. They had spent the morning and the early afternoon together, making love and exploring the lush, quiet glens around the small loch. He had given her a photography lesson, and they had ended up photographing each other. Eventually, they had tumbled, kissing, in a heap in a clearing and they had just barely made it back to their room.
“Dad!” Evie cried when she spotted him standing just inside the kitchen door. He scooped her up in his arms as she ran towards him. “You’re scratchy,” she complained. He hadn’t shaved that morning; the hotel had provided them with toiletries, but he had shuddered at the thought of using the cheap razor. Plus Rose had asked him to keep the stubble, she enjoyed the sound it made when she grazed her fingertips over it.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.
“Can I have an extra long story tonight?” she asked.
He smiled wistfully. “Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night.” He really was, but he was also glad of having spent the whole night and a lazy morning with Rose. It was such a gift and he was ready to pay the price for it. There was no telling how long they’d have to keep their relationship secret and so he wanted to make the most of it. For once he wanted to be selfish.
Before he read Evie her story, however, he had a look at Paul’s cut as Lottie changed his bandage. It was a longish, crescent cut that had risen to become an angry red welt. It looked painful and curved around the fleshy part of Paul’s palm. Dave winced when he saw it. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he asked, reinforcing his grip around Paul’s shoulder; his boy was as brave as ever.
“Not really, Dad,” Paul assured him. “It looks worse than it is.”
Dave hummed thoughtfully.
“It looks all right to me,” Lottie said. “It’s closed up nicely.”
“Well, I suppose a doctor wouldn’t say anything different. Would you like some lasagna?” Dave asked, giving Paul a hug. Paul smiled and nodded, watching Lottie as she wrapped a fresh bandage around his palm and wrist.
Dave had rung Lottie on his way home to let her know that he’d picked up dinner, or, rather, the ingredients for it. After the previous night he needed to make it up to them. As he set about to make the lasagna, he wondered if it wasn’t the right time to tell the kids about Rose. As much as he loved having Rose all to himself, the secrecy was something that didn’t come naturally to him. Besides, Lottie seemed to know what his Wednesdays and Sundays were about, smiling gently as she did when she saw him coming home. However, she hadn’t commented on it apart from that one time when she’d kissed his cheek and told him she was happy for him.
While the lasagna was in the oven and he prepared the salad, Sarah dropped in. She’d been out running and made the short detour to check on him. Nursing a bottle of water she watched him as he cut up tomatoes and cucumbers.
“What?” he asked, looking up from the cutting board.
“Rita… Rita never said you were a cook,” Sarah said, pressing the damp bottle against her cheek.
“It’s how I romanced her. Although she probably didn’t think much of my culinary arts — she usually did the cooking once we were together for good,” he said, trying to smile. Her refusal to let him cook had hurt a little at first, but then he had gotten used to it. That way, he’d had more time to play with the bairns, and Rita seemed to enjoy the solitude of the work. It was an arrangement they never discussed.
“Paul seems a little quiet tonight,” Sarah said.
“Would you talk to him?” Dave asked. “I think this might be about his mum.”
Sarah nodded and turned to leave.
“Sarah? Would you like to stay for dinner? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said. The need to talk about Rose was almost overwhelming, and Sarah was the only one he trusted. After all, she and Rita had been close, very close, and Sarah would know what Rita would have thought.
“I’m all sticky,” Sarah said.
“Take a shower. I’ll… I’ll give you one of my t-shirts,” he offered, imploring her with his eyes to stay.
Sarah worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a beat, then she nodded. “All right.” Then she left to find Paul.
Dinner was cheerful, and when they were finished there was only a small helping left in the casserole dish. It had been easily the best lasagna he had ever made. He gave Lottie the night off, and after Sarah and he had put the children to bed — and reading Evie an extra chapter — they curled up on either end of the sofa with a glass of wine. Sarah was wearing one of his t-shirts; anything Rita had owned was too small for her. Besides, it would have felt awkward to see Sarah in her clothes. He’d have to decide what to do with Rita’s things sooner or later.
“Paul just feels a bit under the weather,” Sarah said. “I think he might be coming down with something.”
Dave sighed and looked at the dark red wine. “Thank you.”
“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” Sarah asked after a few minutes’ silence. He was grateful for her nudging him because after the enjoyable night they’d had he’d nearly lost his nerve.
“I’ve met someone,” he said. He had been wondering how to tell her about Rose the whole night but he had failed to come up with something appropriate. So he opted for being completely open to his friend, hoping that she would listen and understand him. When he saw her expression, however, he wasn’t so sure if it had been a good idea after all. Sarah was Rita’s best friend, not his. The memory of the kiss popped up unbidden and he closed his eyes.
“What do you want me to say?” Sarah asked.
His eyes flew up to meet hers. What did he want her to say indeed? “I just… nothing.”
Sarah sighed and sipped her wine. “Don’t get me wrong, Dave. I want you to be happy, it’s just… a bit sudden.”
“A bit early?”
She smiled. “That… too. I don’t know. Do you love her?”
Dave’s heart started to pound. It was funny that it only started to beat frantically now, or had it been the whole time and he hadn’t noticed? “Yes.”
“Tell me about her.”
And Dave did. “Her last name is Tyler,” he concluded.
“Tyler? As in Rose Tyler?”
He nodded.
“Oh. Dave.”
“I know. It seems I don’t do simple when it comes to women. But I love her, I really do.”
“From what you’ve told me about her… I find it a bit difficult to reconcile her with the girl from the papers,” Sarah said.
“It’s a role she plays,” he said, deciding not to comment on her use of the word girl when referring to Rose.
“Forgive me for asking, but what tells you she’s not playing a role when she’s with you?” Sarah asked.
Dave nearly dropped his glass. At the same time he could feel the colour drain from his face. For a moment the old doubts surfaced, about Rose seeing a substitute for the Doctor in him, but almost at the same time the memory of being joined with her, in their minds, resurfaced and brushed the ugly thought aside. For that brief, terrifying moment Rose had been completely open, and he’d known that she was honest. He squared his jaw. He could hardly tell Sarah, could he?
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. She shifted forwards so she could touch his leg. For a moment he thought there was something she wanted to add but the moment was gone quickly and he didn’t dare ask. “I had to ask. I’d hate it to see you hurt. Or the children.”
Dave relaxed. “That’s why I needed to tell you. I need to tell the children, but I’m… I have no idea when the right time is to tell them. I don’t want them to think I don’t love their Mum any more. Because I do.”
“I know you do,” Sarah said reassuringly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you when the right time is. I suppose you will just know.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” he said with a sigh. He sipped his wine.<
br />
“So your breakdown…”
“Really was a breakdown,” he said firmly. “But Rose helped me make the most of it.”
Sarah laughed. “It’s good to see you happy.”
“I’m still grieving for Rita.”
“And you will be for a while yet, but I’m glad you’re not alone. I told you, didn’t I?” she asked, referring to their kiss in the bathroom.
His ears grew warm. “You did. Thank you.”
“Do you think I could meet Rose one day? As your Rose, rather than the Rose Tyler?” Sarah asked.
“I’d love you two to meet. You’ll like each other,” he said.
They sat in silence for a while, drinking their wine, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Sarah asked about the inquiry. “I’d like to be there. If you’ll have me,” she said.
Relief swept through him and he felt momentarily dizzy. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“It’s not going to be easy. But it’ll mean closure.”
He nodded. She was right, of course. “Robin and Rose reckon I’ll get the full amount of compensation Stuart’s firm went for.”
“Dare I even ask?”
He told her.
Sarah slumped back into the cushions. “That’s…”
“Aye. Rose offered the services of her financial adviser.”
“That’s very kind of her.” Sarah finished her wine. “May I tell you something?”
Dave looked at her in surprise, unsure of what to expect, but then he nodded for her to go ahead.
“Don’t send the kids away. If anything, they need their familiar surroundings, and they’re far too down-to-earth to survive at a posh public school,” she said.
He stared at her. “I wouldn’t dream of sending them away. I’ve lost Lucy already; I can’t…”
“I’m sorry.”
“You wouldn’t seriously think I’d send them away… because I’ve got Rose now?”
Sarah stared at him. And then he realised that he must have put voice to his thoughts.
“If you seriously think I’d even imply that, Dave, you don’t know me at all,” she said very softly.
“I’m sorry, it’s… I’m sorry. Sarah?”
She looked at him. Then she nodded. “It was an Anna moment, yeah?”
He nodded. Anna would think that; she’d suggested as much. Unlike Rita, it was all about appearances and making an impression on people with her. Even if Rita’s ideas about bringing up their children had seemed very restrictive at times, he much preferred them to Anna’s. Although he knew that giving the bairns mobile phones was a good idea it still rankled with him, probably more on Rita’s behalf than his own. He really needed to define his role as a father, to come up with a set of values and ideas he wanted to pass on to his children.
-:-
“Are you sure you want to go to school?” Dave asked, covering Paul’s forehead with his palm to find out if he had a temperature. The boy looked very pale when he came downstairs for breakfast the next morning.
“Yeah,” he said. And then Dave remembered. Of course Paul would want to go to school, because unless he did there was no way he’d be able to go to the extra choir rehearsal that night. There was going to be a wedding the next day, Paul’s first, and he didn’t want to miss that. “I’ll be fine, Dad.”
Dave gave him a hard look. Then he passed him a glass of juice. It was a bit late for that extra vitamin boost, but if anything it’d at least make them feel better. Paul accepted it with a small smile but only sipped at it. Dave wondered if he should insist that Paul stay at home; Paul wasn’t likely to put up a fight, but Dave didn’t have it in him to deny him choir practice. He’d just phone the school and warn his teacher that he didn’t feel too well this morning and ask that he be sent home if he got worse.
“I’ll be fine,” Paul protested rather testily. “Dad! Please!”
“Just making sure you’re all right, yeah?” he said, taken aback by his usually so soft-spoken son’s temper.
“Gosh, Dad, you’re like Mum,” Ewan said, pouring cereal into his chipped bowl.
Dave stared at younger son. “Aye, it’s my job now to make sure you’re okay.” The days when I deferred to Rita’s opinion are over.
“Yeah, okay,” Ewan said, taken aback by the sharpness of his tone, but without talking back. Dave frowned inwardly. He couldn’t believe that reining in Ewan had been this easy, particularly with that authoritative tone. Was that what Ewan wanted and needed? Firmness?
Dave took the bairns to school before driving to the studio. His schedule was full of shoots but he hoped to meet Rose for lunch at Tony’s. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d seen her last. He missed her. He wanted her there in situations like this morning.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Rose said over the phone. “Friday lunch is always about work. We tend to discuss the week’s events. It’s… good for the soul.”
“Aye,” Dave said. It was a good idea. Still. “I miss you.”
“And I you. Maybe we can meet for coffee later on?”
“I’d love that. I love you.”
Later on, however, he had a call from the Royal Infirmary.
He had just finished a shoot when the phone rang. His stomach bottomed out when the calm voice introduced himself as a nurse. “Mr Tiler?”
“Aye,” he choked.
“Your son, Paul Morris, was brought in earlier. He lost consciousness during choir practice. He’s all right now, but we need you to come as soon as possible,” he said.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Dave said, taking a deep breath. He rang off, taking another few deep breaths. He needed to stay calm now. Paul was okay. It was just the shock of the call. Paul was all right.
Dave didn’t remember driving to the hospital. His phone shrilled just as he walked up to the reception desk. He was about to ignore it when it registered with him that it was Rose’s ring tone. He snatched the phone from his pocket. “Rose, I… I’m kinda busy right now.”
“Me too. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t make it to coffee. I’m sorry,” she said.
“I won’t either. Look, love, I’ve got to go. I’ll ring you later, aye?”
“Yeah. Love you.”
Dave introduced himself to the nurse and asked her about Paul. “I believe he’s still in A&E,” she told him.
“Still? What does that mean?” he asked, confused.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t say. They’re waiting for a consult.”
“A consult? They told me he was all right!”
“I’m afraid there really isn’t more I can tell you. Why don’t you go to A&E — it’s just down that hall — and see for yourself? I’m sure your son would love to see you,” she said.
Dave closed and opened his eyes to gather himself. “Of course. I’m sorry. Thank you.” He hurried down the corridor the nurse had indicated and, beyond a pair of glass doors, found himself in the reception area of A&E. He strode up to the desk and repeated his request. The nurse on duty gave him a long look and nodded gravely. She told him to take a seat while she went to get the doctor in charge of Paul.
Why had they told him that Paul was all right when clearly that was not the case? What had happened at choir practice?
“Mr Tiler?”
Dave looked up. An attractive redhead in blue surgical scrubs was standing in front of him. He rose.
“I’m Dr Noble. I treated your son. Paul Morris?” she said.
All that registered with him was her use of the past tense. “Treated?”
“Why don’t you come with me so I can explain everything to you?” she said, gesturing for him to come with her.
“What happened?” Dave asked, unable to stand. If something happened to Paul… “Is he all right?”
“Please,” she said.
A wave of nausea washed over him. Somehow he managed to follow her into a relatives’ room, where he found himself si
tting on a worn leather sofa with a paper cup of scalding tea between his fingers. His worst nightmare seemed to have come true. If Paul was… if he’d lost him too…
“Paul collapsed during choir practice. By the time he was brought here he had regained consciousness, but he was very confused. He complained of a severe headache, a stiff neck and he started to run a fever,” Dr Noble explained.
“He seemed um… a little under the weather this morning,” Dave managed to say. But how had he gotten worse so quickly? He shouldn’t have let him go to school, let alone to choir practice.
Bigger on the inside: Space, Time Travel, Alien Criminals (A Space Time Travel Mystery Book 1) Page 31
