It All Started With You, page 24
‘What?’ I say, squirming uncomfortably under his gaze.
He hesitates. ‘I er – think I owe you an apology.’ He folds his arms.
Now I wasn’t expecting that. ‘Are you sure? Because I can’t think why.’
He looks at me slightly awkwardly. ‘I really got you wrong, didn’t I? I’m not sure quite how that happened, because usually, I get a feeling about people.’
Oh. That. And suddenly, I’m in a quandary, because I can accept his apology and leave him none the wiser – or come clean.
I sigh. ‘Look, you weren’t wrong at all, Alex. I suppose I was a bit obsessed with the business and everything. And I didn’t really stop to think about much else. A lot’s happened this last year, though,’ I say quietly. ‘But you don’t owe me an apology at all.’
He shakes his head. ‘I see it differently. When we met that first time, okay, you were hungover, but then everyone has days like that. I don’t know – you always seemed so happy. You gave the impression that you sailed through life in your own little world. I totally misread you.’
‘I’m a happy person. What’s wrong with that?’ I say in a martyred voice.
‘Exactly.’ He leans forward. ‘Nothing – and it doesn’t mean you don’t do some amazing things, because you do. Helping at Briarwood, being a good friend, I didn’t see all that. Not to start with.’
‘Gosh,’ I say, staring at the tablecloth. ‘But you don’t know the half of it – really. I am a terrible person. I threw my ex out when he was homeless. Then I led Josh on just so I could throw him off the scent of Maria’s wedding. And I used to get pissed too much and I’m really a shallow, frivolous sort of person, just so you don’t have any false preconceptions about me. I think I’ve covered the worst things.’
He sits back again, then he laughs. He actually laughs.
‘Shall we order?’
After that we talk. Properly. I even tell him about Julia and I get the chance to ask the question I’m itching to ask.
‘So, how long have you had your, er, lodger?’ I say casually, through a mouthful of the most delicious spaghetti alle vongole.
‘About a year now. And, er, she is just my lodger, just so you know.’
‘So does that mean you’re single then…’
‘It would seem that way – you?’
‘I chucked Greg out months ago,’ I tell him. ‘No regrets.’ Then realising I sound completely unfeeling, add, ‘It was the best thing for both of us.’
So full I couldn’t eat another mouthful, it’s late when we leave there and slowly walk back to his car. There’s definitely an autumnal feel in the air, and I shiver slightly, pulling my jacket more tightly round me.
‘Are you cold?’ He slips an arm round my shoulders and my body responds to his in a way so that suddenly I’m anything but.
‘You know they’re all worried about you, don’t you? Your friends?’
‘They really don’t need to be. I’m much better,’ I tell him.
‘Maybe you need someone to keep an eye on you,’ he suggests.
‘God, no! I lived with Honey for quite long enough, thank you, and they’re all fussing round like mother hens as it is.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about Honey.’
‘Oh.’ I’m slightly shocked. And confused. In fact, just what is he suggesting? But when he stops under the dim glow of a streetlamp and pulls me towards him, I find out. And with his lips on mine, my heart practically bursts out of my chest at that point. Oh my God! Alex is kissing me…
And suddenly, things tumble into place, as I realise this is how it should be, where I’m somewhere I truly feel I belong.
‘So what do you say?’ he says softly, pulling away just slightly and gazing at me.
‘Um, I suppose we could try it,’ I say casually. ‘I just need to be sure you’re not too bossy or anything. Actually, I need to be quite sure about the whole kissing thing too – would you mind?’
And he doesn’t, as it happens. Not one bit.
36
It’s been an extraordinary week but I really am walking on air, though I suddenly remember I’ve been ignoring my sister and on Thursday night, my first alone in ages, I call her.
‘Hello? Alice? It’s me…’
‘Oh, Frankie…’ she says, sounding sleepy. ‘It is late… Can’t you ring in the morning?’
‘I just wanted to know if you’re in this Saturday, that’s all.’ Huffily – she doesn’t even sound that pleased it’s me.
‘I’m going out – but Dave and Martha will be here.’
‘I was wondering – could I borrow Martha? For the day?’
‘Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?’ She yawns down the phone at me.
‘Is that a yes, Al?’ I’m dying to tell her about Alex, but it’ll have to wait.
‘Okay.’
It works out quite well, because when I scoop Martha up and arrive at Lulubelle’s, we’re just in time for lunch.
‘Auntie Frankie,’ says Martha on the way, in that voice she uses when she wants something. ‘On the way home, can we go to Mr Crowley’s shop? And buy some sweeties?’
‘Ooh, we can. But it’s our secret, okay? We might not mention it to Mummy.’
Martha giggles.
But I have a better idea. ‘Tell you what… We’ll go there first and you can choose something for Cosmo.’
‘That’s a very, very good idea,’ she says, her voice squeaky with excitement.
‘New goalie for you,’ I tell Cosmo, when we arrive at Lulubelle’s. ‘Her name’s Martha. But she needs some training.’
Once she passes him the sweets, he gets over that she’s a girl and they go tearing off across the garden. One thing Martha isn’t is shy, and soon there’s enough shrieking out there for about ten children.
‘So how’s he been?’ I ask Lulubelle, as we set the table for lunch.
‘I think he’s good. Still no more of those episodes. Oh, I took him over to Daddy’s. It was great, actually. Cosmo really liked them.’
‘It’s an amazing place, isn’t it? I went there to talk flowers with Maria,’ I explain. ‘And those horses too.’
Lulubelle smiles. ‘I know. My father’s all set to buy a little pony for Cosmo.’ Which I suppose is one of the advantages of having a rock star grandfather.
Lunch is pizza and ice cream. I notice Martha leaves some of her pizza, which is out of character but when I ask her if she’s feeling all right, she says she is. Then after we’ve finished, Lulubelle and I relax in the sun while the children go off and make a den.
‘There haven’t been enough days like this,’ says Lulubelle. There’s that look in her eyes again, like she’s absorbing every detail and adding it to her collection of memories. ‘They get on so well, don’t they? He doesn’t see enough healthy kids – some of the mothers find it too awkward, I suppose the word is. I think they’re scared it’s contagious. But not all of them though – and Martha’s great.’
We listen to the shrieking from the bottom of the garden.
‘Well, with luck, the worst is behind him,’ I say softly. ‘And there’ll be lots more times like this in years to come.’
And I know she wants to believe it. We both do. In fact, the conversation is still hanging in the air between us when the worst thing imaginable happens. Martha comes tearing up the garden, screaming and crying, flinging herself into my arms. Cosmo’s nowhere to be seen.
‘Martha! What is it? Tell me!’
‘He’s fallen over and he can’t get up…’ she sobs.
But by the time she’s finished her sentence, Lulubelle’s already halfway across the garden, and by the time we catch her up, she’s sitting on the ground, cradling Cosmo in her arms. Her face is as white as his and his breathing is shallow.
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ I cry, pulling out my mobile and running towards the house where I’ll get a signal, while, holding Cosmo, Lulubelle follows slowly behind.
We wait for what feels like an age. Lulubelle sits on the sofa, her eyes fixed on Cosmo’s face as she talks gently to him, while I call Lulubelle’s mother, who comes straight over. I reluctantly take Martha home. She’s already frightened enough without watching Cosmo being rushed off in an ambulance.
‘You do know it really wasn’t anything to do with you,’ I explain to Martha, on the way. ‘Cosmo’s very sick. Everyone thought he was getting better until today.’
‘He has cancer, Auntie Frankie. He told me.’ Her little face screwed up. ‘What’s cancer?’
‘He has something wrong with his blood. It’s got bad things in it which make him poorly.’
‘He said that’s why his mummy doesn’t give him pizza.’
And then I click. ‘Pizza doesn’t give you cancer, honey… Just some people believe that the right foods can help you get better – and some are not so good.’
‘Is that why he was ill again?’
‘No. It was nothing to do with it. I had pizza too, remember – and so did Lulubelle. Come on. I better take you home.’
When we get back, I explain to Dave what’s happened and he’s very understanding, just picks up Martha and gives her a hug, then suggests they go and watch a film together, winking at me and mouthing ‘thanks’, as he carries her into the sitting room.
Then I go home and wait for news from Lulubelle. Eventually, my phone does ring and I leap to get it – only it’s not her.
‘How could you?’ rages my sister. ‘Poor Martha is traumatised. Whatever were you thinking of, Frankie?’
‘They had a great time,’ I say carefully. ‘Did you ask her about any of it, Alice? How they played football, had pizza for lunch, then made a den? Cosmo was supposed to be in remission and now, it’s looking likely that he’s not. I’m really sorry Martha was so upset,’ I tell her. ‘But she’s a good kid and she’ll be fine, whereas Cosmo, on the other hand, might not be.’
It has the desired effect and I hear Alice deflate down the telephone.
‘It’s just that I wish you’d asked me, that’s all.’
‘What – if I could take my niece to see a friend whose little boy has been ill? Oh Al… Get real…’
‘Well, next time, just ask me – okay?’
She hangs up, leaving me feeling even sadder.
When Alex calls me, I tell him what’s happened and promise to let him know when I hear from Lulubelle. But hours pass before she calls to tell me Cosmo’s been admitted, which was what she said would happen. She sounds small and very frightened.
‘Let me come and sit with you,’ I offer.
‘Mum’s here, Frankie. Honestly, don’t worry. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
So now it’s a matter of yet more waiting for more tests, the results of which we can only guess at. Even to me, it’s unbearable.
37
I’ve made a posy for Lulubelle. Mrs Orange would be proud of me. In it, there’s heather for luck, little twigs of oak for strength and the first snowdrops for hope – Milo’s excelled himself, I’ve never seen them this early.
Instead of waiting for her to call me, I go over to her cottage. As she opens the door, she looks as though she hasn’t had a wink of sleep. Her eyes are red and there are huge black circles under her eyes.
‘You were lucky to catch me,’ she says. ‘I spent the night at the hospital and I only popped back to get changed.’
‘I’ll make you some breakfast,’ I tell her.
‘I’m not hungry, Frankie. Really. I don’t think I could eat a thing.’
‘Look, go and have a shower. I’ll make you scrambled eggs and then I’ll drive you to the hospital – okay?’
She sighs, but doesn’t argue, just goes upstairs. While she’s gone, I put the posy in water and leave it on her windowsill.
She’s desperate to get back to Cosmo. After the quickest shower ever, she doesn’t talk, just eats the eggs in seconds and lets me drive her.
‘Are you going to come and see him?’ she asks, as I park outside the hospital. ‘Only if you are, I better warn you he’s wired up to all these tubes and machines. He was barely conscious, Frankie, when I left him. It’s bad this time. I can feel it.’ Her voice breaks.
As we get out of my van, I take her hand. ‘It’s been bad before, hasn’t it? And he got through it?’
She nods, but her eyes are full of tears. ‘I don’t know how much more he can take, Frankie… I’m really scared.’
As we walk through the hospital, I might think I know what’s coming, but I haven’t a clue. Cosmo’s in a private room inside a children’s ward, looking tinier and more frail than I’ve ever seen him look, as if overnight he’s somehow shrunk. Surrounded by all these machines beeping and whirring, I wonder how he can sleep – but he doesn’t stir.
‘You don’t have to stay,’ says Lulubelle. ‘Honestly. I’ll be here until they kick me out, longer if I make enough fuss. But I can’t bear to be anywhere else.’
‘Well, I’d like to stay a bit too, if that’s okay?’
She nods again.
‘It’s so unfair.’ Pointless words, but they’re out before I can stop them.
‘He was such an easy baby,’ she tells me quietly, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘He slept at night, smiled at everyone – you know, the way he still does. We’d just started at this playgroup. It was one of the staff there who noticed. This lovely lady who’d worked there for years – I remember her asking if he always got tired so easily. I hadn’t noticed, of course. It was just how Cosmo always was, but then I think I told you – there were these bruises.’
I shake my head, imagining how awful it must have been. What a shock, finding out.
‘They did all these tests and there wasn’t any question,’ she said. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’ She sighs heavily.
As we sit in silence, there’s a knot of fear inside me too. I think Lulubelle really believes that this time is different. That however strong she is, she’s reaching the end of their precious time together.
‘Hang in there,’ I tell her, squeezing her hand. ‘We have to believe. Miracles do happen.’
I stay with them for a couple of hours, after which I leave her and as I walk across the car park to my van, my phone bleeps with a message. From Alex.
You in later, A x
Certainly am, going home now x
Ok b over soon
When he arrives, I fill him in about Lulubelle and Cosmo. ‘It’s awful to see him like that.’
‘I know. Jessie always says, when you’re surrounded with children who are as ill as Cosmo, each time something happens you kind of get used to it. It almost becomes normal again – until a crisis reminds you what’s really going on.’
‘I’m not sure she expects him to get through this,’ I tell him. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ I can’t bring myself to say Cosmo is dying…
‘It’s possible he might not,’ says Alex slowly, taking my hand and squeezing it, hard. ‘He’s fought a tough battle, but he is a really sick kid.’
It’s just like Alex has described, and by the time November blurs into December, Cosmo being in the hospital has become the new normal – and though I find it hard to think about anything else, my clouds have a silver lining, because oh my giddy aunt, I have a boyfriend! Not only that, but he’s spending more and more time round at my place and is very adept at chopping firewood, which means for the first winter ever, my little flat is warm. I will definitely keep him until the summer.
‘It’s nearly Christmas,’ I murmur in his ear one morning, with the duvet pulled up over our ears. ‘What would you like for your present?’ I slowly trace the line of his neck with my lips, which makes him roll over and pull me to him.
‘More of this!’ Which was what I was hoping he’d say, which is followed by much more kissing which of course leads to the most passionate sex that can only be described as life-affirming.
Over breakfast, however, I notice he’s frowning. Oh God. What is it this time…
‘What are you doing over Christmas, Frankie?’
‘Oh, I usually spend it with Alice. She cooks tons of food and gets stressed and we have a great time. I’m sure she’d love it if you were there too.’
‘Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come to ours.’
‘What – you’re cooking at your house?’ I say incredulously. Alex has many skills, as I’m finding out, but cooking most definitely isn’t one of them.
‘No… with my family. You know Jessie, obviously. And my mother – and Bernie of course. What do you think?’
‘Have you asked them?’ I’m a little bit taken aback.
‘Um – I have,’ he confesses. ‘So what do you think?’
‘I suppose I could,’ I say, thinking. ‘I mean, Alice is pregnant – she probably wouldn’t mind a quieter Christmas – and maybe we could go there in the evening or something?’
So it’s decided – and I realise that if he’s asking me to his parents’ house, I must be more than a fling. It’s all very curious, but I don’t have much time to think about it because it’s a busy time of year in the shop, though this year more manageable, with Honey helping Skye churn out hundreds of wreaths. We have tons of orders for Christmas week and quite a few houses to decorate, and then, oh bliss, we close.
Mrs Orange trots in and out, muttering about nice paper ribbons when she knows I never touch them and how I ought to buy in them cheap ones and diddle them up. I think she’s talking about wreaths but I don’t ask.
‘Actually, I think ours are rather lovely,’ I tell her.
‘They’re not bad,’ she says, cocking her head on one side and studying them. ‘Only it wasn’t so much that. You looked at your hands, duck?’
I have to admit I haven’t – and when I do, I gasp in horror. ‘Oh! They look like yours,’ I say, mortified. ‘What am I going to do?’
