Broken Heart Syndrome, page 26
‘Babes, calm yourself,’ Dylan interrupted, patting her on the head. ‘You don’t want to get yourself all worked up imagining all that lush man flesh whilst we’re having a cwtch* in bed. I wouldn’t want you to pounce on me in my weakened state.’
‘Gah! You. Are. A. Disgusting. Sick. Deluded. Pervert.’
‘Don’t get all gushy on me babes, you know it only embarrasses me.’ Lou snorted and crossed her arms under her chest as Dylan ran his hands down his face. ‘My head feels like there’s a Frenchman living in it.’
‘Series two,’ Lou put in quickly. They were both well used to this game now and if either of them ever missed a quote they would never hear the end of it.
‘Episode?’
‘Chains.’
‘Well played.’
They sat in silence for a moment staring at the opposite wall.
‘Jesus, you’ve still got that collage up of our elective,’ Dylan said suddenly, making Lou jump. ‘That must have been eight years ago now.’
‘Well those views were gorgeous,’ Lou said defensively.
‘Yes babes, yes they were,’ Dylan replied, and Lou rolled her eyes at his smug expression.
‘I mean aside from the loser whose fat head is blocking half the shot in some of them.’
‘Some of them?’ Dylan spluttered. ‘I think you’ll find I’m the main attraction of that whole collage, in fact it’s like a montage of me.’
He felt Lou stiffen beside him and he laughed. Above all things he loved to wind her up. Sometimes it felt like winding Lou up was his life’s calling. He’d even found himself wishing that he were at Lou’s flat winding her up of an evening when he was out with a girl. This for Dylan was beyond bizarre since he also considered sex one of his life’s callings, and him thinking a night of guaranteed no action would be more fun than an (admittedly boring) evening ending in the horizontal tango was just plain weird. ‘That beach was awesome mind. All those freaky pink shells. Remember the time we watched the sun come up after we’d stayed up in that little beach bar?’
‘Mmmhmm,’ was Lou’s only response but he saw her nod her head.
‘Where were Frankie and Mike again?’
‘They were tired I think, you guys had just climbed Killy.’
‘Pussies.’
Lou snorted, ‘Yeah.’
Then Dylan had another flash of memory. A drunk Frankie swaying on the dance floor came to mind.
‘How pissed was Frankie last night?’ he asked. ‘She never lets herself get that steaming.’ Dylan had practically made an art of watching Frankie over the years, and he knew that slamming back shots and letting drunk cardiothoracic surgeons maul her on the dance floor was not her style. Hardly surprising really, what with her mum and Papa Marco. He suddenly tensed with worry. ‘She did make it home okay didn’t she Lou?’
Lou sighed. ‘I’m not a completely crap friend you know. I wouldn’t have left her there in the state she was in. Truth was that Weasel Gankface got to her first and practically carried her home. Far as I know he’s still here.’
Dylan let out a breath that he didn’t even realized he’d been holding. Caring for and worrying about Frankie had become somewhat of a religion to him, and even though he’d given up long ago on her loving him back it was still a tricky habit to break.
‘He cares about her you know,’ Lou said quietly into the silence that followed. ‘You should tell her.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Dylan replied in a small voice. Of all the stupid things he did at Uni keeping Frankie and Tom apart was by far the worst (and that was saying something seeing as he had once been caught rolling around in profiteroles, barking like a dog at the Dean’s wife, with his testicles hanging out at one of the rugby balls).
‘She’ll forgive you,’ Lou continued. ‘You know she will, that’s just her nature.’
Yup: sweet, caring, quietly funny, insightful, beautiful, forgiving.
Argh! He almost went to smack himself on the forehead.
Must not obsess over Frankie anymore.
It’s been years.
Enough.
It seemed like Lou was going in for a reassuring hug, but she chickened out at the last minute and performed an awkward head pat instead, much like he had done a minute ago. For some reason Dylan found physical contact with Lou awkward, even more so over the last few months. His eyes drifted down to her pink lace encased breasts (her nightwear was like something you’d expect a Vegas show girl to wear during a burlesque performance) and unfortunately he felt his body start to react.
‘Right,’ he blurted out, scrambling off the bed and making a grab for his phone. ‘It’s bloody half five in the morning. I better go sleep on the sofa or we’ll have the piss ripped out of us all day. How did we end up like this anyway? We must have been really outers to fall asleep together.’
‘Yes, well at least neither of us remember too much about it,’ Lou said stiffly. She had her arms wrapped round herself on the bed now and wasn’t meeting his eyes. Dylan had the nagging feeling that he was missing something.
‘Look, babes are you sure that nothing…?’
‘Of course not you numpty,’ Lou gave him a bright smile, which he thought somehow looked slightly forced. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist; you know I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.’ Dylan hesitated then decided that his uneasy feelings were most likely the result of hung-over paranoia.
‘Oh, well thank Christ for that,’ he huffed out whilst pulling on his trousers and searching around for his t-shirt. ‘That really would be the bloody last thing we need at the moment.’
‘Yeah, absolutely,’ Lou agreed, her voice sounding slightly raspy.
‘You getting a cold babes?’
‘No just standard hung-over hedgehog shat down my throat,’ she replied. ‘Now can you please bugger off so I can get some sleep.’
‘I’m going now…’
‘In a minute,’ they both said together. ‘Your turn of phrase is so predictable Dildo. I do hope that you and your countrymen realize that “now, in a minute” makes no real sense.’
Dylan held his hands up in front of him in surrender, finally located his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Having dismissed him he saw Lou turn away and sink back down under the covers.
He closed the door softly and was about to make for the sofa when his stomach started grumbling and he noticed the cake on the stand.
What did Frankie say about that cake stand? He thought as he sidled up to the kitchen counter. The bloody thing was huge; surely she wouldn’t miss a couple of slices. He used a surprisingly lifelike looking sugar-flower to scoop up some frosting and popped the whole lot into his mouth, before scouring the kitchen for some milk and a knife.
*****
Lou waited until she heard Dylan leave, and then sat up. After staring blankly at the collage on her wall for a minute she quietly swung out of bed and padded to the door. She carefully turned the lock and after she was sure it was secure she crept over to her wardrobe. Pushing the mountain of clothes that had accumulated on the floor of it aside, she extracted a small dog-eared shoebox, which she took back to bed.
Once she was sitting up with her legs under the covers she pulled off the lid and started delicately pulling out the tattered photographs, which she laid out around her. At the bottom of the box was a small pink and white shell. She turned it over and over in her hands for a moment before gripping it firmly in one of her fists, which she brought up to her chest. With her other hand she reached for one of the photos and traced the shape of the face dominating it with her index finger, before grabbing the pillow that Dylan had been sleeping on and bringing it up to her face.
She hugged the pillow and inhaled deeply before letting the silent tears track down her cheeks. For the longest time she remained absolutely still except for the deep breaths she took from the pillow as her tears started to soak into the material. Her eyelids started drooping as the first light of dawn began to shine through her window, and she finally succumbed to sleep lying in the middle of her photos, holding the small pink shell, with her face buried in the pillow she was still clutching like her life depended on it.
Click below to view ‘Sticks and Stones’ on Amazon.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sticks-Stones-Susie-Tate-ebook/dp/B00Q51UC5G/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1416994705&sr=8-11&keywords=sticks+and+stones
About The Author
Susie Tate is a general practitioner and when she’s not working she’s looking after her four yummy boys under five (okay well one is actually over thirty-five but it’s the mental age that counts!).
Maybe it’s a bit strange for a doctor to be writing novels, but she thought she could use her experience to write what she hopes are funny, occasionally bittersweet stories and give people a behind the scenes look at hospital medicine.
Please click on any of the links below to connect with Susie online. She really appreciates any feedback on her writing.
Official website:
http://www.susietate.com/
Facebook Page:
https://www.facebook.com/susietateauthor
Email Susie at:
susietate79@gmail.com
Follow her on Twitter:
susietate79
When you turn this page you will be greeted by a request to rate this book or share that you have read it on facebook or twitter. I really appreciate every single rating and review, and every time the book is shared on social media it makes a huge difference. Thank you.
Susie Tate, Broken Heart Syndrome
