by Barry, Jill
With a bit of luck, Zillah would have her work cut out, keeping an eye on Hal, plus those cute cats, as well as run her business. Zak had enough buoyancy to float the Titanic. Everything would be fine. He just needed a little more time. Meanwhile, he didn’t fancy Hal’s chances when it came to his temporary nurse’s bedside manner. Maybe she’d be so fed up with Hal’s abrasive comments, she’d be ready to give Zak a doubly warm welcome when he returned with the kind of news he reckoned on giving her. Zillah might be easy on the eye but he reckoned it would take a very brave man to criticise her driving or her cooking for that matter.
*
Zillah walked back inside, bought sandwiches and coffee and returned to the blue seating area to find Hal staring into space, the magazine she’d offered him, abandoned on a chair.
‘Thank you, but I’m not sure I can eat anything just now,’ he said. ‘Maybe later.’
She didn’t argue but handed him a bottle of water.
‘Perfect. Thanks. So did you speak to Zak?’ He unscrewed the bottle top.
‘He says he’s very sorry to hear about your accident and he won’t be back for a few days so you’re welcome to use his room. It’s obvious you need to be on the ground floor so you can get to the bathroom and so on.’ The words poured out in a rush.
Hal groaned and swigged water from the bottle. ‘I’ve been sitting here, trying to come up with a solution. I know Mickey’s pub is off limits. They’ve got enough to do without waiting on me. But I can’t, I just can’t, intrude on you like this, Zillah.’
‘Do you have any better ideas?’ She sat down beside him and unscrewed the top of her own water bottle.
‘None. I haven’t a clue what I can do. You could always parcel me up and send me to my parents in Norfolk, I suppose.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes, then? You’ll accept mine and Zak’s suggestion, I mean?’
‘I still think it’s monstrously unfair and highly embarrassing but if you’re prepared to put up with me, I guess I have no other option.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. I imagine I could find a nursing home to take you temporarily,’ she teased. ‘I realise I wouldn’t be your Number One choice for a carer.’
Her throat constricted as her eyes met Hal’s and she saw the vulnerability reflected in them. She turned away, for fear he might detect the longing in hers. It would be so easy to get up and put her arms around him. She pushed the thought from her. To be brushed away would be chastening and whatever either of them felt about the other, they needed to keep their relationship strictly business-like.
The pair sat in silence, sipping their drinks until Hal’s name was called and Zillah pushed him to keep his date in the X-Ray suite.
*
‘Do you feel more comfortable now?’ Zillah was negotiating the city traffic.
‘Yes, fortunately,’ said Hal. ‘I could still kick myself for being so careless, though.’
‘Better not try that,’ she said, pulling away from the traffic lights. ‘You might do the other ankle in.’
‘If my mobile hadn’t bleeped just as I was trying to put down my mug, I don’t think I’d have stepped back into thin air,’ he said gloomily.
‘At least when you fell, you could reach it to make a call,’ said Zillah.
‘Hmm. Suppose so. It wasn’t even anything important. Just my phone provider offering an upgrade.’
What was important, thought Zillah, was that Hal seemed to have nobody near at hand except Zak and now herself. At least, if the situation had been reversed, she had Abi close by and, even if they lived thirty miles away, she had her mum and dad.
‘Zillah,’ said Hal. ‘We must talk practicalities. I know I have to rest but I can’t expect you to run round after me. Could I ask you to buy some ready meals or something? I can’t have you cooking for me on top of everything else.’
‘You’re treading dangerous ground here, Mr Christmas.’
He glanced at her profile and grinned. ‘I’d better rephrase what I said, then. How about, you spend enough time cooking marvellous meals for other people without adding me to the list?’
‘You’ll be doing me a favour by helping eat up some food. Zak bought stuff he can’t possibly use now and I always keep the freezer stocked with single portions.’ Whoops! That sounded sad. True though.
‘Well, somehow I’ll find a way of repaying your kindness.’
‘You already have, by analysing my figures and advising me how to streamline my business.’ She could have added, ‘before it’s too late,’ but didn’t.
They were driving over Pulteney Bridge. Tourists, many in colourful shorts and T-shirts, peered in shop windows and took photographs. Zillah remembered the evening she and Hal met by chance in her favourite café and spent time together. Her stomach lurched as her brain flipped back to the pizza supper when, ever so slightly tipsy, they’d kissed outside the restaurant. How could she have done that? And how could she now be driving this enigmatic man back to her flat, treating him so very differently from the way she had when both of them ached to forget their lonely lifestyles. She couldn’t prevent a smile when it occurred to her the neighbours might wonder if she was taking in paying guests while Clarissa was away. Or worse.
‘So, what’s so funny this time?’
Without thinking, she reached out a hand and patted his. ‘I was just thinking how intrigued the neighbours might be if they see a second male person arriving with me and disappearing inside my flat.’
Hal shifted in his seat. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you should put a little notice saying ‘Waifs and Strays Welcome?’
Zillah clicked on the left-hand indicator. ‘Maybe, but only as long as I put out a NO VACANCIES notice at the same time. One walking wounded male plus three cats, albeit temporarily, is quite enough for me, thanks.’
Hal, aided by crutches, got himself through the garden gate and inside. Zillah pulled out a chair so he could sit at the kitchen table.
‘I’m going to make a pot of tea, toast and Marmite,’ she announced. ‘Would you like me to switch on the television?’
‘Oh, Lord, this is uncomfortable for you, Zillah. You need your own space. I presume Zak was out far more than he was in. I’ll be hanging around like an unpleasant smell.’
He was glowering so much that Zillah laughed again. ‘Come on, Hal – make the best of it. You’ll probably only need to rest up for a matter of days. What’s that, set against a lifetime? Now, do you want toast or cheese and biscuits? You should eat something to keep you going.’
‘Toast and Marmite sounds great.’
‘Classic comfort food,’ she called over her shoulder as she filled the kettle.
‘I’m sorry you wasted money on those sandwiches.’
‘Ah, but that young couple sharing a milk shake were very grateful. We’ll have something more substantial this evening, don’t worry though probably not before eight, I’m afraid. I have to collect my equipment from the golf club.’
‘Was that a wedding buffet?’
‘No, a retirement party with loads of nice nibbles and a heavenly cake made by Abi and decorated by her old lecturer. She did a fantastic job at a very reasonable cost. You see, I’m putting some of your suggestions into practice already.’
He was concentrating on a small watercolour on the opposite wall. ‘Um, good,’ he said absent-mindedly. ‘Just admiring your farmyard picture. Those hens are real characters.’
‘Priceless, aren’t they? You’ll find lots of pictures in this flat.’
‘I imagine this one’s by a favourite artist of yours? I don’t know a great deal about art but I do know what I like. This picture makes me feel I could reach out and stroke those feathers.’
The grill popped into life and Zillah slid four slices of bread beneath it. ‘I’ll stand here,’ she said. ‘I have an awful habit of leaving toast to brown then walking away and incinerating it.’
He nodded. ‘We all have our faults.’
She regard
ed him, head on one side. ‘Like forgetting where we’re standing?’
‘Touché. My concentration hasn’t been brilliant lately.’ He bit his lip.
Zillah poured scalding water into a chubby daisy-splattered teapot. It struck her that both of them were skilful at avoiding certain topics. Hal was probably still brooding over his broken relationship. Would he really want to hear about the sturdy French hens, captured forever by her late husband’s skilful fingers?
On their honeymoon, she and Daniel had stopped for farmhouse bed and breakfast on first arriving in Brittany. Friends had teased them about exchanging Cornwall for its French equivalent. But Zillah would have honeymooned in their back garden as long as she could be with Daniel.
She flipped the bread slices over. ‘This won’t be long. I’ll just get some spread from the fridge so you better pray I don’t fall over my feet and leave the toast to burn while you struggle in vain to rescue it.’
‘You’re a sadistic woman, Mrs Robinson. All of a sudden I’m starving.’
Hal was absolutely gorgeous when he smiled. He had even white teeth and his eyelashes and eyebrows were much darker than his hair. There was also the fact that he liked Marmite. It would be good if they could become friends while sharing the same roof. After all, they were old enough and big enough to put past embarrassments behind them and face the future. It seemed to her they could each use a friend. If only she could stop herself noticing how darned attractive he was. If only she could stop remembering the touch of his lips on hers.
*
Hal thought Zillah seemed unusually serene as she showed him where he’d be sleeping. After she left him in the sitting room with the radio on and set off for the golf club to complete her chores, Hal straightaway rang the Golden Fleece.
‘Mickey? Hal Christmas here. I’m afraid I’ve done my ankle in and I’m currently using crutches. Zillah, bless her, drove me to the hospital and now I’m at her place, having to stay in Zak Silver’s room. Obviously I’ll continue paying you for my accommodation but if Zak arrives unexpectedly, he’ll have to take it over, given that I’m stuck on the ground floor for the time being.’
Hal listened and grinned. ‘Did you say you’d need to lock up your wife and your barmaid? I like your style, Mickey. Zak’s heart is in the right place, though. I think.’
He listened and chuckled again. ‘Look mate, I know this is an awful cheek on a Saturday evening but is there any way you could get two suppers and a bottle of that great Chablis along to Zillah’s place?’
Mickey’s chuckle rumbled into the phone. ‘Don’t tell me the lady’s gone off cooking?’
‘As she’s taken pity on me, I want to surprise her. Save her some work. Tell me if you’re too busy and I’ll organise a takeaway.’
‘Zillah enjoys a glass of white wine after a hard day,’ said Mickey. ‘We’ll sort it, you lucky devil, you. My wife’s beside me and she’s nodding. We’ll get Jake to deliver a bottle plus two portions of salmon in filo pastry with runner beans and new potatoes. He knows where Zillah lives.’
‘Could you put the lot on my account, please? Oh, and a dessert would be great too. Cheers, Mickey.’ Hal ignored a cheeky comment from the landlord and ended the call, feeling relieved. At least, even if he was forced to make like an invalid for a while, he could provide a treat for Zillah that evening. Mickey’s wife was going to pack his toiletries and towels plus a few other necessary items. What a nuisance he was turning out to be, but at least he wouldn’t have to ask Zillah to drive him to the cottage to collect clothing. The thought of her having to riffle through his socks and boxers was disconcerting, to say the least.
*
Hal was watching evening news when he heard Zillah come back.
‘It’s me. As soon as I’ve changed, I’ll start supper.’ She put her head round the sitting-room door.
‘I have a confession to make. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve ordered in some food.’
She looked taken aback. ‘Right. Yes, that’s great. Thank you. What are we having?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘I’m afraid there isn’t any wine. I think Zak and I finished the last bottle the night before he left.’
‘No problem,’ said Hal.
‘Did you remember to explain about the garden entrance? If the delivery person knocks at the front door, I probably won’t hear the bell from here.’
‘It’s all sorted. Trust me.’
Zillah threw him an evening newspaper and disappeared.
‘Thanks,’ he called, opening it at the sports section. But no sooner had he finished an article about Bath’s cricket team than she was back. She’d changed into a scoop neck black top with pink cotton cut-offs accentuating long, shapely legs. The garments were easy on the eye but not good for his state of mind.
‘I’ll pop along to the off-licence,’ she said. ‘A glass of wine would be relaxing after today’s doings.’
Before Hal could reply, his mobile phone rang. ‘Don’t go, Zillah, please,’ he said, answering it.
He watched her hover, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘Okay, Jake,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask Zillah to open the side gate so you can bring it in. Thanks a lot, mate.’
Zillah nodded her understanding and set off.
Hal smiled to himself. Hopefully she’d be far more appreciative of the Golden Fleece’s menu than the normal sort of takeaway fare. Nor would she be opening her purse, as Mickey’s instructions were to put everything on Hal’s bill.
He heard her call, ‘Thanks again, Jake. Sure there’s nothing else in your car? No odd sock? Good. I’ll see you soon.’
Shortly after came the sound of the back door being closed. It was that kind of door. Not long after that, Zillah appeared, carrying a small tray on which stood two large glasses of white wine. She was smiling.
‘That was a very cunning manoeuvre, Mr Christmas.’ She handed him a glass. ‘I’m impressed. What’s more, you must have impressed Mickey. Or his wife,’ she teased. ‘Cheers. And thank you very much. The food’s keeping warm but we mustn’t leave it too long. It smells delicious.’
‘Buying you supper is the least I can do.’
She sat down opposite him. ‘Jake brought your stuff as well. He says to tell you bad luck and get fit soon so he can thrash you at tennis.’
Hal raised his glass to her. ‘He’s a nice young man. I can see the customers love him. When the bar’s quiet we have a bit of a chat. I must seem a boring old fuddy-duddy to him though.’
She refrained from enquiring Hal’s age. She reckoned he must be no more than two or three years older than she was. Fuddy-duddy he was not. Hastily she blocked from her mind’s eye, certain images she wouldn’t want Jake to know about.
Hal looked at her speculatively. ‘Isn’t this where you tell me I don’t look a day over forty-five?’
‘This wine is still beautifully chilled. You and I are probably much of an age so I wouldn’t dream of saying you were older than mid to late thirties.’
‘Why, thank you Ma’am,’ said Hal. ‘We males like that kind of comment too, you know.’
Zillah was about to relax against the settee cushions when she remembered the food. She put down her glass. ‘Supper on a tray, I think. I won’t be long.’
He groaned. ‘I feel so useless.’
‘Don’t be silly. And whatever you do, please don’t try to rush things.’ She headed back to the kitchen.
He was left pondering her last remark. What things? Did she think he was trying to soften her up? Perhaps Zak had already made a play for her and been turned down. Or was she referring to the sprained ankle and its recovery time? Gloomily he drank a little more wine. He was hardly in a position to chase Zillah down the garden path, should she have any fears in that direction. Although he wasn’t yet forty, any able-bodied senior citizen could certainly out-walk him at the moment.
In any case, after overhearing her comment about not fancying him, he was hardly likely to launch a c
harm offensive, whether on crutches or not. Zillah had consigned what happened between them to the deleted folder. At least this annoying accident of his seemed to have cleared the air and they could at least talk to one another like normal people.
He gave her his full attention when she served their dinner and he commented on another stunning picture, a seascape this time.
‘I don’t talk too much about Daniel but oddly enough, today I bumped into someone who’s been collecting some of his work. I have rather a lot of pictures stored in the spare room and I know they’d fetch money if I managed the sale properly.’
‘That’s something I can’t advise you upon but I’m sure you know how to make the initial inquiries?’
‘I do. But let’s enjoy our dinner now. It’s been a long day, for both of us.’
*
Next day, Zillah cooked a traditional Sunday lunch. Hal put down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair. ‘That was the best meal I’ve eaten in a long time.’
‘Why thank you but it’s only a Sunday roast and trimmings.’
‘Vegetables fresh from the garden? Mint sauce not from a bottle? It was wonderful but I feel guilty about you cooking for me.’
She finished her glass of water. ‘I don’t often get to cook for two. It makes a nice change.’
‘Well, it’s much appreciated. What are you up to this afternoon?’
As Hal had noticed, they’d fallen into an easy sort of camaraderie. The initial hesitation had vanished as quickly as the delicious roast meal. They were talking about books and films and television programmes they liked. They both enjoyed watching tennis and rugby and each of them hated Monopoly but loved Scrabble.
‘If you don’t mind being left alone, I think I’ll walk into town. I want to check out the art galleries - see what kind of stuff is in the windows.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘I’m a bit out of touch with that kind of thing nowadays.’
