Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (34 page)

“What choices?” I ask, mystified.
“I hope you’re not throwing more money at me.”

“Not money as such.” He catches
my head and kisses me softly on my forehead before holding me tight and
breathing in the scent of my hair. “I hope to fuck I’ve done the right thing,”
he says so softly that I almost don’t catch it. Then he sighs and lets me go.
“Come on woman let’s get some food I’m starving.” Knowing that I won’t get any
more out of him I nod and slide my hand into his that he has open and ready for
me, and we turn back to the house.

Later on that night I lie in bed
in the beautiful bedroom that he has allocated to me. It sits at the back of
the house with a bird’s eye view of the ocean crashing onto the rocks and the
beach. The wind has picked up and I can hear the melancholy notes of the wind
chime faintly against the noise of the surf which is overpowering when the windows
are open.

I’m not afraid to admit that I
feel a bit peeved. We’d had a lovely night eating the delicious lasagne that
the housekeeper had left us, and then we’d sat outside for a while on the patio
with coffee while I read and he answered e-mails on his laptop. Then he’d left
me at my door with a brotherly kiss on the forehead and a muttered goodnight.
What’s worse is that I don’t think I quite managed to conceal my chagrin
because he had smirked at me before going into his own room, making me feel like
a desperate twat when I should have been cool and mysterious.

It’s very late but I can’t sleep,
probably because I slept too long in the car. I ache all over and my arm hurts
with a dull throb. Thinking about it it’s probably a good job that Sid didn’t
want sex because I’m nobody’s image of a red hot mama tonight. It’s just that
when we were together I slept well and now I’m alone again I’ve reverted to my
old sleeping problems. Most nights I lie awake staring into the darkness while
thoughts run through my mind.

I wonder how he sleeps without
me, and almost as if I’ve summoned him the bedroom door opens and he slips
inside, a dark shadow against the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“We’re not talking about this,”
he warns, and I snort as he raises the covers and slips in behind me, drawing
me to him with a deep sigh of contentment.

“Can’t you sleep?” I whisper, and
he hugs me tighter and sighs.

“No, but I will do now though.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s
exactly flattering.”

“It is and you know it. I’ve
always been too busy watching my back to relax properly in bed before you.”

“Well that’s your fault for
bringing all those skanks home.” He laughs before shoving his face into my neck
and inhaling deeply.

“It’s not that. By the time women
came into the picture I was too stoned to think properly. No, my dad was always
worse at night when it was kicking out time at the pub.” I tense slightly and
immediately relax trying to cover it up because this is the first time that
he’s spoken about his dad. There’s silence for a second and then he huffs out a
laugh. “Once I woke up from a really deep sleep because he was pulling me out
of bed by my hair after deciding that he wasn’t my dad and the next door
neighbour was.”

“Why is that funny?” I ask
appalled.

“Because Mabe’s mum was our
neighbour. I know we were progressive but it was still the 1980’s.” We both
laugh and then I run my hand tentatively down his arm feeling the warm, sleek
skin and prominent veins. He shudders slightly, leaning into my touch.

“Was it bad?”

He hesitates. “Yes at times. I
was lucky really because Charlie always got in his way when it got really
rough, but he pulled me out of a deep sleep too many times, and I suppose
that’s why I don’t sleep so well.”

“You’re always waiting for a
blow,” I say sadly and he snorts.

“Don’t pin too much on it Nell.
I’m too old to be bothered by old ghosts.” Except he wasn’t, none of us were.
We all lived with scars from our childhoods. They might not be particularly
visible but once you had them you always knew that they were there, like
invisible ink.

I stroke his arm slowly and
gradually his body, which at first had been tense, starts to relax against me.
I shift slightly and he tightens his hand stroking one hand down my stomach,
making me shudder as if he’s directly exposed a nerve. “Does it hurt?” he asks
in a low voice.

“A bit.” I sigh. “I’m trying not
to take the painkillers too much. They make everything a bit groggy, although
my arm’s aching terribly tonight.”

“I broke my arm once and I
remember it aching like a bitch at night,” he offers. “Try not to use it too
much.” He strokes me again and I can’t help but shudder. He goes instantly
still and then as if he can’t help himself he pushes against me hard, and I
feel the tight shape of his erection pushing against me. We groan in unison and
for a second we’re pressed so closely you couldn’t get a piece of paper between
us, but then he grunts and sets himself back a bit so that his groin isn’t
touching me. “We can’t,” he says hoarsely. “You’re still really delicate Nell.
I don’t want to hurt you and the likelihood of me being gentle after all this
time is quite frankly zero.”

“We have to talk anyway,” I say
tentatively, and he tenses before sighing heavily.

“Believe me I know,” he replies
grimly. “Now go to sleep Nell,” and to my amazement I do.

I wake up the next morning to a
knock on the door. Looking sideways at the bed I realise I’m alone and when I
touch his pillow it’s cold. The knock comes again, and rousing myself I shout
to come in, holding the sheet up to cover my chest. The door opens to reveal a
round little woman with jet black hair coiled in a bun, and a face that looks
as if it’s come straight from the illustrations in the Mary Poppins books that
I loved as a child.

“You’re awake,” she says sounding
thoroughly delighted. “How are you feeling honey?”

“Erm fine,” I venture looking
queryingly at her, and she laughs.

“Goodness me. I bet you’re
wondering why a complete stranger is asking after you.”

“And in my bedroom too,” I offer
dryly and she laughs again, her cheeks creasing happily and I smile at her
liking her already.

“I’m Janice, honey, the nurse. Mr
Hudson has asked for me to come in every day at first to check on you to make
sure that everything is okay, and help you with things like getting ready.”

“Oh, he mentioned something about
it.” I sit up and slide onto the edge of the bed carefully.

She immediately offers me a
strong hand to support me. “Hurts in the morning does it?”

“Oh yes.” I sigh as I slowly get
into a standing position and stretch the sore muscles.

“Well that’ll pass. Give it a
week and most of the major aches and pains will have gone and Mr Hudson can
relax, bless him.”

“Have you seen him this morning?”
I ask casually.

“Yes briefly. He introduced
himself when I arrived. Handsome devil isn’t he?”

We smile at each other and then
laugh. “Is he still downstairs?” I ask.

“No, he went out I think, after
showing me round.”

He’s gone out? I wonder where
he’s gone, and then Janice brings me back to normality.

“How about a shower hon and I’ll
help you wash your hair. Then I’ll check the wound and dry your hair for you.
How does that sound?”

“Like bliss,” I say fervently and
she laughs. An hour later I feel much more human, the embarrassment of a shower
shared with a Mary Poppins lookalike eased by her supreme unconcern. “I’ve
bathed women and men older than you,” she’d said briskly when I voiced my
embarrassment.

 She pronounces her
satisfaction with my wound and the healing of my ribs, and then blow dries my
hair until it falls in silken waves around my face. It’s quite long now sitting
at the base of my neck, and being brunette again feels right. I opt for a
loose, lemon coloured sundress, happy that she’s here to help me with my bra.
I’d been bothered by this because being one armed makes putting underwear on
difficult, and although I’m not big breasted I’ve got enough to make it
uncomfortable to go without a bra. Finally I’m ready, and with Janice’s help I
make my slow way downstairs.

Sid still isn’t back and after
being introduced to Charlene the housekeeper, a grey haired stern looking
woman, Janice says farewell and I’m given a cup of coffee and ensconced on the
patio with some toast, while Charlene gets on with her cleaning. I sit for a
while, at first reading my Kindle, but I pretty quickly give that up in favour
of staring at the sea and idly wondering where Sid has gone. When I look up I
start because he’s standing leaning against the door watching me.

“Oh you startled me!” I gasp,
laughing and holding my hand to my chest but he doesn’t laugh. Instead he
stares at me intently for a second and then comes to my side in three quick
strides. He kneels at my side looking at me very seriously, and I start to get
nervous. “What is it?” I whisper and he closes his eyes for a second. When he
opens them his gaze is filled with determination.

“Do you remember what I said last
night about wanting to give you choices?” I nod. “Well I’ve done something that
may very well backfire badly on me.”

“What have you done?” I ask nervously
as he fidgets with my hand smoothing the fingers out and dropping a light kiss
on them.

“I want you to know that if you
don’t want to talk to her you absolutely fucking don’t have to. Say the word
and she’s gone.”

“Who, Sid?” Dread makes my tone cold
and he winces and shifts to one side, and I gasp in astonishment because my mum
is standing in the doorway, her hands wringing together giving away her
agitation. I look back wildly at Sid and he instantly sits down next to me,
crowding me into the side of the lounger.

“I went to see her in London
before I flew out when I heard about your accident,” he says quickly, the
pupils in his eyes wide with alarm. “Sweetheart you need to talk to each other.
It’s one big unresolved mess between the two of you, and it’s bled into all
aspects of your life. I’ve never seen such a wonderful person that feels so
unwanted and alone, and it breaks my heart. Even if you decide that you don’t
want to see her again then at least you will have had the chance to have that talk
and you can let go of some of that anger. My therapist at rehab called it
closure, and you need that one way or another.” I stare at him and he fidgets.
“Say something,” he says finally in a low voice, and I cast another look at my
mum.

“Do you think it will do any
good?” I finally ask, and he cups my face in his big warm palm.

“It can’t hurt any more than it
does at the moment can it?” he says simply, and I sigh in acknowledgement. He
drops a warm reassuring kiss on my lips. “I’m going inside sweetheart but I
will be right there in the lounge. If you want me just shout out and I’ll come
at once, and don’t be afraid to be honest. She’s come all this way to see you
so she must be prepared for anything.”

He kisses my forehead and then
rises to his feet, passing my mum with an encouraging squeeze of her shoulder
and a couple of low voiced words. She looks at him with a world of gratitude in
her face, and then he disappears and she turns to me almost hesitantly
searching my face.

“Hi,” I say quietly. “I’m surprised
to see you.”

She winces and drifts closer to
me, her hungry gaze playing over me, pausing at every one of my injuries. When
she’s drawn close she tentatively puts out her hand and touches my hair. “How
are you feeling Nelly?” she asks softly, and I start in surprise at hearing her
call me that. Misinterpreting my movement as rejection she sighs and settles
into the chair at my side, the pair of us just sitting there for a few minutes
listening to the seagulls as they dive and wheel above us.

Finally I stir. “Why are you here
now mum?”

She looks surprised. “I’ve been
here all along. Sid brought me over when he came.”

“Why didn’t you come to the
hospital then?” I ask in shock.

She sighs. “Sid didn’t think that
it would be right. He said that you were virtually a prisoner in the bed, and
it wasn’t fair for me to inflict myself on you when you couldn’t get up and
leave. He said I should wait and speak to you when we were both on an equal
footing, and then if you didn’t want to talk to me you didn’t have to.”

“That was a bit harsh.” I say
this mildly because it was actually completely the right thing to do. I would
have felt obligated to talk to her. Now I don’t, and it’s curiously freeing.

“Not at all. He rang me every
morning and every night to let me know how you were, and he promised that if
your condition worsened at any time he would bring me there straightaway,” she
says earnestly, her blue eyes shining. “He’s really a very wonderful man Nell.
You’re very lucky.”

“We’re not together,” I say
uncomfortably and she looks at me wryly, a sudden flash of her old humour
showing and making my throat tighten. It was the way she often used to look at
me and Sam in the old days before dad left.

“Really? Have you given him the
memo because the man I’ve come to know is definitely yours if you want him?”

A flash of irritation seizes me.
“And you know him so well mum? Well I guess you do seeing as you’ve probably
spoken more to him in the last few weeks than you have to me in three years.”

She bites her lip hard and a shudder
runs through her thin body, and I realise with a shock of something very much
like love and pity how old she looks. She nods. “I deserved that. I’ve been a
terrible mother to you Nell, and the only thing I can say is sorry, which is
woefully inadequate.”

“But why mum?”

She looks out over the sea, her
eyes distant and sad. “When Sam died I was lost Nell. I pray to God that you
never know the pain of burying a child because it goes against every aspect of
nature for your children to go before you. It was such a senseless and stupid
way to die. He was so talented and clever and he had such a future ahead of
him, and then he was gone just like that.” She clicks her fingers. “When it
happened it hurt, and that hurt and pain grew and grew inside me until it was
like a cauldron, and after a while I couldn’t see any way to let that pain out
because I was frightened that it would drown me. So I buried it and then one
day I looked at you and God help me, instead of being thankful that I had this
beautiful daughter, I only felt rage. Rage that you were still here and he
wasn’t, and reprehensively I encouraged that anger because when I felt it I
didn’t feel pain.”