When You Walked Back Into My Life (28 page)

He phoned back immediately, twice, three times, then texted her. But she didn’t respond, she didn’t know what to say. In the end she called him back, just to stop the endless barrage of messages.

‘Christ, Flo, the phone went dead and I thought something had happened to you. I imagined you lying on the floor in a faint. Why didn’t you answer the phone? I’ve called a million times. I was just about to ring Prue and get her to check on you.’

‘Sorry. I was upset.’

‘Upset? About what?’

‘About you going off just after the baby is born.’

‘God … I didn’t … I mean I don’t
have
to go, I suppose. I might not even get onto the trip if I can’t raise the money. I just thought I’d be in the way in that small flat, and fucking useless. I thought it’d be better to get out of your hair. By
the time I go, if I do, it’ll be at least three weeks old.’ He spoke as if this was perfectly reasonable.

‘So what happened to the place we were going to get in time for the baby?’

She heard a long sigh. ‘Yeah … well, it’s complicated. I’ve talked to a couple of agents and they say it’ll be hard to rent out the place, and mad to try and sell it. And doing it up to a good standard for a baby is going to take cash, which I don’t have.’ He paused. ‘So perhaps it’s better to stay where we are until we can get things moving.’

Flora knew he was lying. She knew he hadn’t been near an agent, or given the house a moment’s thought. All he’d been doing was getting back into his old life, his old habits. She and the baby could whistle for it.

‘Listen, I’m tired. We can talk when you get back.’

‘But you’re OK now? I don’t want you worrying about stuff. I’ll be back soon. I just need a bit more time to get this fitness thing under way. Love you.’

It’s like talking to a junky back on smack, she thought, wincing at his glib show of concern.

‘Bye, Fin.’ As she sat there, the phone still in her hand, she realised she had caught Fin at a unique point in his life, when he’d been involuntarily ripped from his addiction by force of circumstance. It hadn’t made him happy, but it had made him dependent, unable to just take off to access his
habit. His obsession with the mountains had worked for her before, when she had such a demanding life herself. But now she was asking for something more, and Fin didn’t like to be asked.

*

Dorothea was going downhill fast. She was refusing to eat much, losing weight by the day, and her skin was beginning to break down from lying on her stone-hard mattress. Rene organised a proper hospital bed, which was higher and wider and had the mechanism to raise the head or the foot, together with a state-of-the-art waterproof air mattress. The men put the bed in the sitting room on Rene’s instructions.

‘She’ll be much better off in here than in that poky bedroom. She can see out of the windows, have a bit of space.’ Flora could see that Rene was still sad and angry about the Pia fiasco. Like Keith, she had wanted to involve the police, but there was no evidence that Pia intended harm. They both had to accept she would be long gone by now.

‘What’s that thing doing here?’ The old lady looked confused, waving her hand at the huge bed.

‘We thought you’d be more comfortable.’ Rene went over to the wheelchair and took her friend’s hand. ‘It’s got an air mattress to stop you getting sore on your bottom and your heels.’

Dorothea looked unsettled. ‘But … shall I be sleeping in the drawing-room?’

‘Yes. You’ll have lots of space, and the nurses will be able to look after you more easily.’

Dorothea glanced at Flora. ‘Where will I go during the day?’

‘You can stay in here, in your usual chair. But when you get tired the bed’s right there.’

She eyed the bed as if it were an unwelcome intruder. ‘I’m not sure I shall like it.’

Rene gave her an encouraging smile. ‘You might feel a bit strange at first, but you’re going to love the mattress. Your one in the bedroom must be pre-war.’

Dorothea nodded, clearly not seeing anything wrong with this. ‘It was my mother’s.’

Rene rolled her eyes at Flora. ‘Well, try this one out and see how you get on.’

‘How’s the new bed?’ Keith Godly was in the doorway. ‘Saw them bringing it in. Wow! Looks more like an ocean liner than a bed, eh?’ He winked at Dorothea.

‘I … don’t think I like it.’

‘Well, if you don’t want to sleep in it, I shall.’

She looked up at him, then gave a whispering laugh.

‘I think perhaps you should,’ she told him.

‘Need any help?’

Flora and Rene shook their heads. It took them an hour to make the bed and settle Dorothea in it. She barely seemed to make any impression as she lay there on the vast expanse, very still, her transparent skin as pale as the white sheet, her tiny frame hardly denting the alarmingly puffy air mattress.

‘So … is it comfy?’ Rene asked.

Dorothea turned her head on the pillow. ‘I … think so.’ She smiled at her friend, then her eyes closed and she slept.

‘This will make your life a lot easier,’ Rene whispered, as they left the room. Flora agreed, but Fin was coming home today, and her thoughts were elsewhere.

*

Fin grabbed her as soon as he came through the front door and hugged her close. He looked well, his eyes bright and laughing. Kissing her hard on the mouth, he dropped his hand down her back as he fondled her bottom, dragging her hard against his body.

‘God, I’ve missed you.’ He pulled back and looked at her. ‘How are you?’

She laughed, breathless from the onslaught. ‘I’m OK.’

‘How’s the old lady?’

‘Still alive, but she’s really weak now.’

Fin pulled her over to the sofa. For a change he didn’t seem interested in whether Dorothea’s death was imminent or not.

‘Can you tell how fit I am from a week in the mountains? I feel like a different person.’ He began to kiss her again.

It reminded Flora of those times when he used to come back from an expedition, leaping on her as soon as he came through the door, insatiably hungry for sex. And now she responded as she had then, giving herself over to the intense pleasure of his touch.

Later, as she lay in a warm bath, Fin standing propped in the doorway, a big grin on his handsome face, she felt torn. Sex with Fin was so confusing. Their bodies were such a perfect fit, always matching in desire, fulfilling each other’s passion. How could she reconcile such a synergy with their very different requirements for life?

17 January

Dorothea’s flat had taken on a strange stillness. The old lady was sleeping for much of the day now. She was only sitting out for short periods, such as the time it took to make her bed each day with clean sheets; she spoke very little, having occasional bursts of conversation which quickly faded. Flora could see that she was retreating from the world, floating on her air mattress in the big bed, required to do nothing, go nowhere, perhaps dreaming of some distant past when she had lived and loved out there in the world. She seemed at peace.

‘How long do you think she can go on like this?’ Flora asked Dr Kent on one of his morning visits.

‘Hard to say. She seems comfortable. She’s being well
looked after, fed what she needs … she could go on a while yet, although I don’t think she will.’

‘What happens if she gets some sort of infection … pneumonia, bronchitis? Rene’s told us that she’s got a living will, not to resuscitate etc, and to die at home. But does that mean we don’t give her antibiotics?’

The doctor thought for a moment. ‘In Dorothea’s case, if she gets pneumonia, I would advise antibiotics. Dying because you can’t breathe is a pretty traumatic way to go. And they won’t prolong her life noticeably, just make it more comfortable for her in the short term.’

Thank God Dorothea’s got Simon Kent as her doctor, Flora thought, remembering a number of bullying, arrogant members of the medical profession she’d had dealings with in the past. She knew they could trust him to put Dorothea’s sensibility first in any treatment he prescribed.

‘I’m off dancing tonight,’ he was saying. ‘Sure you don’t fancy another spin around the floor?’ His look was teasing, and almost tender.

‘I’d like to try it when I’m dressed properly one day.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Those socks were very fetching.’

Flora laughed. ‘Right. Well, you didn’t even have any on.’

‘Both a bit sartorially challenged perhaps.’

He suddenly seemed to collect himself.

‘Better get going.’

‘Thanks for dropping in.’

‘Just more of the same for Dorothea.’

*

‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’

Flora had been upstairs on Saturday morning collecting some leftover stew her sister wasn’t going to eat because they were going to stay with friends for the weekend. She put the heavy blue Le Creuset pot down on the work surface before turning back to Fin, who was by the front door, holding a black plastic bag of rubbish.

‘I’ve just seen Prue. She told me. She said she’d promised you she wouldn’t, but she felt I ought to know.’

He seemed to go very still.

‘Did you really think she’d keep it secret?’ Her voice was leaden. She was furious with him, not only for begging money for his Nepal trip from her sister – and without asking her first – but because it showed how determined he was to go, regardless of her or the baby.

The colour had drained from Fin’s face. ‘Christ, I knew this would happen one day. Why the fuck did she tell you now? It’s ancient history for God’s sake.’ He seemed to be almost shaking. ‘We were just … it was mad …’ The rubbish bag thudded on the floor.

‘What was mad? What are you talking about?’ She felt
her stomach turn over, the look on his face really scared her.

‘You said …’ he faltered. ‘What did Prue tell you?’

‘That you’d asked her to sponsor you to go to Nepal in September.’

Fin threw himself down on the sofa.

‘Oh … yeah. It just sort of came up in conversation and …’

‘What did you think I was talking about?’

He didn’t reply, just sat there, completely still, covering his face with his hands.

‘Fin?’

Finally he looked at her, his eyes pleading. ‘Please, forget about it, Flo. It’s nothing. I got confused. The Nepal trip … I should have told you. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I didn’t think you’d mind.’

She stood watching him. ‘Ancient history? What did you mean?’

‘Fuck … fuck …’ he muttered.

‘Tell me, for Christ’s sake.’

She waited, hardly able to get her breath.

‘OK …’ He let out a low groan. ‘OK, if you must know … Prue and I had a thing … years ago, before I went off …’

‘A
thing
?’ Flora whispered.

‘Yeah … it was just a mad moment. It meant nothing, Flo, honestly. We were both in a weird place and …’ He stopped, his eyes dull with despair.

‘Wait … are you telling me you had sex with my
sister
?’ She heard the words as she spoke them, as if they were coming out of someone else’s mouth.

He nodded dumbly.

‘You … you and Prue? I don’t believe you.’

When he didn’t answer, she found herself asking, ‘Once? Twice? How many times?’

‘Umm … not … I don’t know. A few times.’ He lurched upright, came towards her, tried to take her hands, but she quickly put them behind her.

‘Where? Where did you do it?’

‘Oh, God. Why does it matter where? It was a stupid, pointless thing that meant nothing to either of us. Please … please don’t look like that.’

‘Tell me where, Fin.’

‘Here. In the bedroom at the top of the house.’

Flora tried to clear her thoughts, but her brain seemed to have become fuzzy and slow, the information she’d requested made no sense.

‘When did you have the time? You were always away.’

He sighed heavily. ‘I came up on the bike …’

The image of Fin astride his Triumph, riding up to London
to his clandestine liaisons with her sister, was too much for Flora. She felt suddenly lightheaded and dropped down to the sofa.

‘Flo?’ He was beside her, not daring to touch her, his face white with alarm. ‘Are you OK?’

‘How long did it go on for?’

‘Please, these details are pointless. Don’t torture yourself.’

She stared at him. ‘I need to know.’

But he wouldn’t answer her. He lay back on the sofa beside her, closed his eyes.

‘How long?’

‘About a year … but not very often. Hardly at all.’ His voice had taken on the monotonous tone of a zombie. He was no longer trying to persuade her to stop. ‘That’s the main reason why I left. She got angry with me when I said we should end it and I dreaded you finding out. I just had to get away.’

‘So it was nothing to do with me wanting a baby?’

‘The baby stuff made me realise what an appalling thing I was doing. I couldn’t be starting a family with you while I was … and I meant to come back in a couple of weeks. But then I thought that by that time she’d have told you herself and I didn’t dare.’

Flora was having trouble understanding. Like a slide show in her head, she watched snapshots from the year before he
left: times when they themselves made passionate love; times when they walked by the sea hand in hand, scuffing the pebbles with the toes of their boots; times when they sat opposite each other drinking coffee in the café on the corner; times when he looked into her eyes and said ‘I love you.’ And all through these innocent images wove other, unspeakable ones; his square, callused hands cupping her sister’s breast as he did her own, his mouth against Prue’s carmined lips, her legs wound round his lean body. She heard the cry her sister must have made as she climaxed, echoing in her head like a fiend in the night.

‘Why?’ she asked, her voice cracking. ‘What was it …?’

‘Flo …’

She searched his face, pinning his gaze so that he couldn’t look away. She tried to read what he was thinking, but his grey eyes were fixed and unblinking. There was nothing there, nothing alive anyway.

‘You just can’t help yourself,’ she said.

There was what felt like a very long time when neither of them spoke or moved or even appeared to breathe.