Hidden (17 page)

‘Eh?  Oh, yes please.  Black, no sugar.’

Kate made a wry face and led the way into the kitchen; how anyone could drink black coffee had always been a mystery to her.  She liked hers white, and with two spoons of sugar in it to boot.  She put on the kettle, her brain numb and wishing futilely that she were in bed.  A visitor was the last thing she needed right then, and in fact she felt she would be quite happy if she never saw another human face again.  Except perhaps... She cut off
that
thought and began organizing the cups and milk and sugar, saying briskly, ‘I hope you don’t mind instant, it’s all I have.’

He leaned his shoulders against a cupboard and made a face, ‘Well, it’ll do in lieu of anything better, I suppose.
  I like
real
coffee, as a rule.’

She gave him a bright, artificial smile, ‘I prefer instant, actually.  I’ve never liked the
percolated stuff.  It’s never hot enough, either.’ 
Is this really happening?
she wondered,
Am I actually standing here discussing the merits of instant coffee versus percolated with a Minster of State?  With whom I slept last night?  Who just arrived at my door because I thought that the burglar I also ‘had’ last night, though in a very different sense, had returned? 
Apparently, yes.  Weird but true.  Had she stepped through Alice’s looking glass without realizing it or were some people’s lives like this all the time?  If so she could only pity them.

She made the coffee and showed hi
m
into the sitting room, which still showed a few signs of the previous night’s devastation.  Much she cared; if Michael didn’t like the mess he could simply sod off, and the sooner the better.  It was only after they were sitting down, silently sipping coffee
,
that a positive side to the whole thing occurred to her.  She had been dreading meeting him again, dreading the embarrassment she would feel for having leapt into bed with him on the very day they met.  But right now embarrassment was the last thing on her mind.  No, strike that; it was the
second
last thing on her mind.  The
very
last thing on her mind was a repeat performance of the previous night’s activities.  Right now she would laugh derisively at a pass from Antonio Banderas himself, her number one fantasy figure from her teenage years on. 
Not tonight, Antonio,
she thought to herself, stifling an exhausted giggle.  She also stifled the thought that she appeared to be quietly losing her mind.

Michael was quiet and seemed preoccupied, which suited Kate just
fine, but at last be broke the silence by saying, ‘You say this guy rang the doorbell?  Strange behavior for a burglar.  Are you quite sure you don’t know him?  That he wasn’t an old patient or something?’

‘I’m quite sure,
thanks,’ said Kate with some asperity, ‘I never set eyes on him before in my life.  Do you take me for some sort of idiot?’

‘Sorry.  I
t’s just that…well, it’s hardly usual behaviour for a burglar, now is it?  Perhaps he had nothing to do with last night at all.  He might have been totally innocent and just had the wrong address or something.’

Kate opened her mouth to tell him that the man had known her name but then closed it again.  She was too tired for a long discussion and pointless questions and debate.  So she simply shrugged and said, ‘Maybe.’

After another long pause he asked suddenly, ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

She shot him a somewhat alarmed look but then steeled herself against the worst and said, ‘What’s that, then?’

‘How did your session with Grainne go today?’

She was so tired -and relieved at the innocuousness of the
question- that she actually opened her mouth to tell him but managed to catch herself in time.  ‘I’m sorry, Michael, but you must know I can’t discuss that with you.  Grainne’s an adult now and all our sessions together are classed as privileged information.’

He looked startled, almost offended, as he protested, ‘I’m her father!’

She shook her head wearily but firmly, ‘It doesn’t matter.  She’s eighteen now and once she’s over the legal age of majority I’m forbidden from revealing anything we discuss.  To
anyone
.’

He gave her a dark, brooding look from under knitted brows, ‘I suppose I just still think of her as my little girl.  And I probably always will.
  I know I neglected her as a child and I suppose I’m over-anxious to make up for it now.’  He gave her a painful smile, ‘Guilt, of course, but there you are.’

There was a silence and then he said, ‘Can you at least tell me if you’re hopeful of eventually curing her?’

Kate had been pretty bullish with Trevor but Grainne’s family was a different matter; the last thing she wanted to do was build up his hopes prematurely.  So she shrugged and said, ‘Cure is the wrong word.  It’s not like a doctor curing an infection with antibiotics or something.  With the human mind there are too many variables for us to make accurate predictions, especially in a case like Grainne’s, where there seems to be no clinical illness.  There are no set rules, and so much depends on the individual patient.  To a great extent they heal themselves.  Or not.  We can’t help much unless they
want
to be cured, and let us help.  I can only say that I think Grainne has a pretty good chance of becoming well again someday.’

He gave her another brooding look, mingled with a touch of speculation, ‘I get the idea yo
u wouldn’t even commit yourself that far unless you were pretty confident of success.’

Kate sighed, ‘I told you, there are too many impond
erables for me to make any pretense at accuracy.  Some people can survive almost anything, others fall apart under seemingly minor stresses.  And we have drugs now that work miracles on people who would have been considered untreatable a few years ago.  So the truth is that I just don’t know.  But I’m always hopeful, no matter how lost a cause seems.  And to me Grainne looks far from being a lost cause, though it’s still very early days.  The only thing I can say for sure is that I’ll do everything within my power to help her.  No matter how long it takes.  And that’s a promise.’

His eyes were hidden in dark shadows but his face was serious, thoughtful, as he said, ‘I had a feeling you’d say something like that.  I get the impression that you never give less than one hundred per cent commitment to anyone.’

His words reminded her uncomfortably of Peter, and his very different opinion on that subject, and she lowered her eyes without reply.  But of course Peter had not been talking about her patients; she was always totally committed to them.  She drank the last of her coffee and put the mug on the table, ‘Listen, it was very good of you to come out here like that tonight and I don’t want to appear rude but I really have to go to bed.’

He gave her a little grin
that was probably meant to be cheeky but in fact simply appeared cocky.  ‘I could go with you.’

She gave him a blank look in return, ‘No thanks.  I’m tired and wrung-out
, and if I’m honest I think last night might have been a big mistake.’

He looked a little offended and pause
d before saying, in a slightly too-earnest tone, ‘Listen, there’s something I want you to know about me.  I don’t go in for casual sex or one night stands.  And I don’t think you do either.  Last night was something special for me.  I never felt like that before with anyone, not on the first meeting.  Not on first
sight. 
So if you’ll feel safer with someone here with you my offer stands.  And I’ll be just as happy alone on this sofa as in your bed with you.’

Kate smiled at him with more warmth and said, ‘Thank you.  And I do appreciate the offer.  B
ut I’d rather be alone tonight, if that’s okay.’

He nodded understandingly and got to his feet, ‘I’ll clear off out of your way, then.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’  Though, of course, she had.

He laughed and gave her a peck on the cheek, ‘I’m just teasing.  And it’s probably best I don’t stay the night anyway.  Some lousy reporter would only pick up on it and start pestering the life out of both of us.  And it wouldn’t do my public image any good if I was seen spending the night with beautiful young women, I can tell you.  In Italy my popularity ratings would go through the roof, but not in hypocritical old Irel
and.  That’s why I gave the chauffeur the night off.  It’s the likes of them who are usually first to call the papers with the gossip.  For a consideration, of course.’

Her mouth fell open in horror and she stared at him with wide eyes, ‘I never thought of the Press!  What if they hea
r about tonight’s goings-on?  And God only knows what the neighbors will tell them if they’re asked!  What if one of them recognized you and rings up one of the tabloids?’

He shrugged, ‘I don’t think any of them did, but it in any case it doesn’t matter too much.  I’m used to it, for one thing.  For another, no matter what your
neighbors told them it couldn’t be any worse than the things the press routinely make up by themselves.  Don’t worry about it; if any reporters start asking questions I’ll fob them off.  But I’d still like you to be careful who you talk to, and what you say.  Just in case.’

Kate nodded, irritated that his
first and only thought was for himself, with no heed paid to how
she
might feel about being the subject of such a newspaper article.  Which, as it happens, was absolutely bloody aghast;
she
wasn’t a public figure, and didn’t want to become one.  The thought of the press nosing into her private life... God, as if she didn’t have enough problems!  They might drag up her childhood, the stuff that happened with Straub… Jesus!  And the thought of being falsely named in the papers as Michael Riordan’s girlfriend -though no doubt the press would say
mistress-
filled her with horror too.  What would Peter think of her then?

A cold voice said in her mind,
That’s pretty immaterial no
w,
isn’t it?  Now that he’s gone? 
She shook her head in disgust; Peter might be gone from her life but she didn’t want him to hate her, or think she had...what?  Slept with Michael?  But she had.  So anything Peter might care to think would be true, wouldn’t it? 
Oh, Christ, what a fucking mess!

She shook her head again, suddenly miserable, and Michael put his arms around her and said comfortingly, ‘Cheer up, it probably won’t hap
pen!’  And then suddenly he was kissing her on the mouth, taking her so completely by surprise that at first she made no effort to stop him.  It was only when his right hand slid down to caress her left breast that she recovered enough to pull away, ‘Michael, stop, please.’

He looked at her in surprise, ‘What is it?  What’s wrong?’

She could understand his confusion; with her having jumped into bed with him on the first possible occasion it was natural for him to assume she was interested in him.  And she couldn’t have said herself why that interest had faded more or less completely.  So she spoke more gently than she wanted as she said, ‘I’m tired and confused and really not in the mood for this sort of thing.  Besides, I’m not quite sure what happened between us last night.  Or rather,
why
it happened, and I really need to think things through before...’  She shook her head, ‘Please, just go home.  I’m so tired and fed up I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.  I’ll talk to you in a few days.’

He was looking at her doubtfully but finally nodded and said, ‘Okay.  And if that guy comes back don’t hesitate to ring, day or night.  I gave you my mobile number last night, didn’t I?’

She nodded and he said, ‘Good.  Please use it.  I’ll talk to you soon.  And remember that although we’ve only just met I really do care about you.’

He kissed her gently on the cheek and turned and left the flat, with Kate only too happy to show him out.  Talk about persistent;
what the hell was wrong with the man?
And how could he claim to care about someone he had only met the day before?  She shook her head; she couldn’t think about him just then, she’d worry about it later.  She watched him walking up the steps and then looked at her watch.  Incredibly, it was only nine o’clock in the evening.  It felt more like four a.m. or something.  All she wanted to do was go to bed but then she thought of the flowers she had bought for Lucy and paused.  Exhausted or not, she wanted to show her gratitude.  Besides, delivering them now would also give her the chance to put out her own version of tonight’s events, and perhaps scotch any wild rumors before they started.

She got the bouquet and trotted grimly up the steps to the ground floor flat.  She was just about to ring the bell when the front door opened and Lucy and Brendan walked out, stopping in surprise when they saw her.  They had actually been on their way down to her place to check on her and now both began speaking at once, in a confused jumble of, ‘Kate, are you okay?’ and ‘Is anything wrong?’

Kate offered them the brightest smile she could muster and handed Lucy the flowers, ‘No, no, I’m absolutely fine.  Lucy, these are just to say thank you so much for having me here last night, and for all your help this morning.  You were great and I’m really very grateful to you both.  And if there’s ever anything I can do in return please don’t hesitate to ask.’