From The Moment I Saw Him .... (19 page)

“Better for having her here.”

He coughed, with the effort of speaking, grimacing,
and I hastened to get his water.

“Do you really think he’s better?” I asked
anxiously.  The doctor was looking through his notes.

“Well - temp’s down, pulse slower tonight as well,
it’s going the right way.  Another 24 hours of this antibiotic should see a big
difference.”  He smiled at me.  “Just don’t get him too excited.”

I stayed until the bell rang, and then rose
reluctantly to go.

“I’ll call Rosine again, and tell her what the
doctor said,” I told him, gently disengaging myself from his grip.  “Perhaps
she’ll be able to come tomorrow.”

“Eithne - you’ll come too?  Please?”

“Yes, of course I will.  Whatever you want.”

I kissed him on the lips for the first time.

“I hope to God it’s not catching, Nick, after the
way we’ve been snuggled up today.”

A faint smile crossed his face. 

“You used to like to share things with me,” he
whispered.

“Well, I’ll pass on this.  Goodnight Nick, dearest,
sleep well.”

The telephone rang with a difficult client the
following afternoon, and I was delayed leaving for the hospital, so that when I
finally entered the ward, I could see Rosine was already there.

She greeted me warmly, and then we both turned to
survey the figure in the bed.

I thought Nick did look a little better, and was
very relieved to see that his face, whilst still deathly pale, did not look
quite so drawn and gaunt.  He held out his arms to me, and I bent down to kiss
him.

 Rosine had reseated herself in the chair, so I
leaned a little awkwardly against the bed, while Nick snuggled against my
chest.  She smiled at us.

“Honestly - you two,” she said.  “Why can’t you just
settle down together and be done with it?”

This was not a conversation I wanted to pursue, so I
smiled back, and said to Nick,

“Are you feeling any better?  Do they think the drug
is working?”

Rosine answered for him.

“Yes, they think he’s turning the corner.  Mother
will be relieved, she’s been frantic, and spraining her ankle so badly was the
last straw.  She’s hopping about on crutches now, and hoping to get down to see
him in a day or two.”

I felt Nick’s forehead, it was definitely cooler
than the day before.

“Your poor hair,” I said, stroking it.  “It’s all
matted and greasy.  When will you be able to take a shower?”

“Dunno,” he said faintly.  He closed his eyes, and
let me hold him close.

Rosine and I chatted.  She had a little girl, Flora,
as well as Charlie, Andrew was doing well in the City, and they had recently
moved out to Surrey for the benefit of the children.  An officious nurse came
to take Nick’s pulse and temperature and shooed us away from the bed while she
did so.  Rosine said,

“Andrew tells me that we know one of the directors
at your agency, Ian Inglis. They were at Charterhouse together.  He came to our
wedding, I wonder if you met him then?”

I felt my stomach turn over.

“Yes, he’s a group director,” I murmured, going
rather red.  “But I think I only had eyes for Nick when you got married.”

I knew I should say something, but the moment passed
before I could screw up my courage.

“And are you in a steady relationship with anyone,
Eithne?”

“No, nothing to speak of,” I lied breezily, wishing
the nurse would hurry up.  I wondered how long it would be before everything
came out, and then I wondered whether, once he was better, Nick would even
care.

“What about Nick?  You know I have had no news of
him for well over two years now.   Does he have a girlfriend in America?” I
asked.

“No, I don’t think so, he seems to be a bit of a
rolling stone when he’s not with you.”

The nurse moved on to the next patient, and I went
in search of another chair as my shoulder was sore from leaning against the
bed.

I contented myself with holding Nick’s hand, as
Rosine and I talked together.  She was keen to hear about my flat in Wapping,
and I thought I detected a gleam of interest in Nick as I described how I loved
to sit by the river on my little terrace.  He still couldn’t talk much without
coughing, so he couldn’t contribute to the conversation.

I told them that it would be difficult for me to
keep visiting during the day - I did have a job to do, after all - but that,
now he seemed to be improving, I would be happy to come in the evening, if
no-one else was expected.

“That would be great, Eithne.  Evenings are a
problem for me with the children, and it’s easier for mother and dad in the day
as well.  Nick doesn’t really know many people in London yet, so it would be
very nice of you, if you can spare the time.”

What a fortunate coincidence that Ian was away. 

At length, Rosine went in search of the Ladies. 
Visiting hours were nearly over.  I said to Nick

“If you like, I can come in tonight, on my way
home.”

“I won’t be going anywhere,” he whispered, with a
flash of his old self.

Once the intravenous antibiotics kicked in, Nick
improved rapidly.  After a week, he was off the drip, showered, sitting up in
his chair and generally charming the nurses into being at his beck and call.

He was always extremely pleased to see me, and there
had been a lot of touchy feely stuff between us, but we had not talked at all
about ourselves and what, if anything, the future might hold.  Ian called me
from New York, furious because he had been unable to reach me, and I accepted
his scolding because it was justified.  I began to grow increasingly unhappy,
because I was leading some strange sort of double life between the two of them,
and I knew I had to get things straightened out.

When I visited Nick that evening, he was wearing a
stylish new dressing gown and pyjamas which his mother had bought.  He looked
almost like the old Nick again, only very thin and pallid, as if he was in need
of a good feeding up and some days in the sun.  I thought he would probably be
leaving the ward very soon, and asked him if he was going back to Beresford to
convalesce.

“I want to come and live with you,” he said,
squeezing my hand as I sat next to him, and hypnotising me with a smile which
was nearly back to its full brilliance.

“Live with me?  What gave you that idea?” I asked in
surprise.

“Well, you’ve been here almost every day since I’ve
been ill.  Don’t you want us to be together again?” he said.

 It was now or never.

“Nick - I must tell you something ...” I began, but
he interrupted me.

“I know - you’re supposed to be engaged to that Ian
chap who was at school with Andrew.  Andrew only found out last week and then
Rosine gave me the news.  She’s pretty mad at you.”

“She’s mad at me?  That’s a bit much, considering
she asked me to come here in the first place!” I exclaimed. 

“Yes - well, she says you didn’t tell her the truth
when she asked about him.  Anyway, it can’t be serious.  What were you
thinking, getting hooked up with someone so much older than you?”

He was grinning at me, as if we were discussing
something much less weighty than a proposed marriage, and I thought it was time
to let him know where I stood.

“Age isn’t the issue.  He’s very handsome,
successful and well off.  My parents are delighted,” I retorted.  I scrabbled
in my bag, and retrieved my ring from where it had lain for the best part of
ten days, and slid it back on to my finger.

“Is that your ring? Why have you not been wearing
it?”

“I suppose a bit like you not telling me about
Sphere
before Finals - I didn’t want to upset you.”

Nick caught my hand, and examined the ring.

“Hmm.  Expensive, but horribly ostentatious.  Typical
adman overkill - you don’t really like it, do you?” he enquired with a lazy
smile.

“I like the fact that he’s prepared to make a
commitment to me,” I said.

That removed the smile from Nick’s face.  He looked
at me intently, as I asked him

    “What would you have done in my place, Nick? 
You know how much I loved you - but we’d had no contact for over two years, you
told me you might never be coming back to Britain again.  Why shouldn’t I be
happy with someone else?  You can’t possibly have believed I’d be sitting
around waiting on the off chance you might come swanning back into my life.”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by the
sound of feet slapping the corridors and coughs and creaking beds. 

Nick was still holding my hand, playing with my
fingers, twisting the ring so the stones disappeared from view.  He said,

“I know it sounds insane, but deep down, I did
believe that.  I needed to be on my own to cope with life in America, but I
always felt that we had this bond between us, an unbreakable bond, and that one
day I’d come back, you’d be there, and we would live together and be happy. 
It’s hard to put into words.  When I heard from Rosine that you might be going
to marry another man, I felt desperate, I can’t let you do it!

“Do you really love this man, Eithne, or is he
second best?  Being so ill has made me think about what’s important, and you’ve
been here for me.  I can feel how much you care.  I
know
you still love
me.  I don’t deserve it, but I‘ll make sure I do in future.  This time, I’ve
had enough of being a lone wolf.  I can’t find you again only to lose you....”

A look of pain came into his expressive, dark eyes,
while I struggled to keep my composure.  Part of me wanted to believe him, part
of me wished he had never come back into my life.  I told myself that I had
made a promise to Ian, then I remembered the concerns I had felt about our
relationship in recent weeks.

I could see a ton of trouble brewing.

“You must remember there are three people involved
in all this,” I said after a long pause.  “I can’t just make a decision on the
spur of the moment.  Suppose we did get back together are you saying you’d make
some sort of commitment to me - to us?  I wouldn’t accept anything less.”

Another long silence.

“If you’re desperate to get married, I’ll marry you.” 
His voice wavered.

“And that sounds like it came from the heart.”

Despite the seriousness of the occasion, I couldn’t
help laughing.  I remembered his distaste for the trappings and formality of
Rosine’s wedding, how he had declared that marriage was for the parents’
benefit, not the children.  He didn’t care a straw for the rituals of society.

Nevertheless, I felt that I was at the crossroads. 
I got up to go.

“I don’t think I’d better come again for a while,
Nick.  We need to think seriously about the future, about what’s best for
everyone.  I know that’s not your style, but there it is.”

I bent down and kissed the top of his sleek head,
and he caught at my arm.

“Please, Eithne - he doesn’t need you like I do,” he
pleaded.

“I just don’t know, Nick.  I really don’t know.”

I got up and walked away, before he could beg me to
stay.

I decided not to return to the hospital.  Several
days passed in a blur of indecision and misery, while I tried to work out what
was the best thing for all of us.  On Friday evening, I got home, poured myself
a welcome glass of wine, and was rootling in the fridge for something to eat,
when the doorbell rang.

It was Nick, shouldering a bag and a large bouquet.

“Nick. You’d better come in,” I said wearily,
accepting the flowers.  I wasn’t at all sure I was able to deal with him.

He came in, put the bag down, and walked through to
the living room, where the patio doors were open to the balcony.  He stood
there while I poured a glass of wine for him, breathing in the sounds and
smells of the river rushing past.  The tide was high and there was that sense
of change on the air that the full waters always seemed to bring with them.

“Are you fully recovered?  You still look very
fragile,” I said.

He was gazing out into the darkening evening, eyes
bright despite the pallor of his complexion.

“It’s wonderful here - it feels like home,” he said
softly.

We stood there together for a few moments, wrapped
in peaceful contemplation, then he turned and took me in his arms.  A million
memories assailed me. 

He kissed me very tenderly, and then the kisses grew
ardent.

“Where’s the bedroom?” he murmured hoarsely in my
ear, his body pressed against mine.

“Nick.... I’m engaged to another man.....” I whispered,
fighting against my desire for him.

“Not for much longer.”

He felt for my left hand, and pulled off my ring,
throwing it on to the coffee table.  As his mouth grew more demanding, I wondered
whether making love with him would help me resolve my feelings.