Thirteen (Love by Numbers Book 4) (19 page)

That’s bloody amazing!! Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!

Another text comes through on the tail end of the last one that says:

Now what’s the bad news? It’s not in Antarctica is it?

No, it’s in this country. The bad news is my Mum has invited you over for tea, anytime in the next few weeks. She wants to check out your intentions towards her little boy

Intentions? You mean I have to tell her about my Harry the Hoover fantasy?

No. Please, DO NOT tell her anything about Harry the Hoover. Stick to topics like the weather or your last holiday.

Do you think I would purposefully embarrass you?

Yes. Yes, I do. Remember your biker bar friends?

Ah, that wasn’t embarrassing. Much. Okay, I pinky swear to be well behaved and I’d love to meet your parents (can’t believe I’m actually saying that!)

Wow. That was easy. She’s happy to meet my folks. Now I just have to get my mother to swear she’ll be on her best behaviour.

Great. I think. I can’t promise my mother won’t do her fair share of embarrassing, but we can arrange something when you’re up and running

Was that pun intended?

Fuck.
Way to be insensitive Harry.

I didn’t think. I’m sorry. I mean when you’re up to visiting.

Great. Way to show a girl who is already self-conscious of her leg, that you’re a thoughtful guy.

I like that you didn’t think. Don’t ever overthink with me. See you tomorrow for lots more non-thinking action

Well, that sounds promising.

She quickly adds:

That came out sounding a bit… rudey. You know what I mean. Don’t change. I like the way you like me. I like you, full stop.

Warmth floods my veins. She likes me.

That’s kind of handy, as I’m starting to
more than
like her.

I like you too, Bunny Girl. I like your funny, I like your rudey, and I like everything in-between. Until tomorrow, H x

M
y new prosthetic is the bomb. Dr A really pulled out all the stops to get me this and the range of movements I am learning to get with her, is impressive. I leave The Beeches with a spring in my step, having already nicknamed my new limb, Ally-tastic.

I feel renewed and excited about life, the total opposite of how I normally feel after a prolonged hospital stay.

My date with Harry tonight is obviously playing a part in my buoyant mood, but it’s more than that. For once, I’m not waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me, I feel surefooted, yet bubbling with life.

Nic was due to collect me, but she sent a text, less than an hour ago, to say she’d been held up in work with an emergency. I could call my parents, I suppose I could even call Harry, and he’d happily drive me home, but the vitality that runs through my veins, the anticipation to take this first step independently, sees me calling for a cab.

“I
t’s been a pleasure, as always, Delilah.” Dr Anton’s parting words to me as he escorts me out to my waiting taxi.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, of all people, about the importance of physio.” His smile is wry, and I surprise him by taking him into my arms for a tight hug.

“Stay cool, Dr A.” I place a swift kiss to his cheek and swear I see the old man blush. He watches as the taxi driver takes my bag and puts it in the boot, before opening the door for me to climb in the back.

I give Dr Anton a quick salute, which he surprises me by returning, adding a wink in for good measure. Who knew Dr A had moves?

As we pull away from the curb, I see Dr A still standing there watching until we round the corner, and the building goes out of view. The man has been in and out of my life for so long, he’s like part of my family, even if I have caused him numerous headaches over the years.

I send a quick text to Nic, to let her know I’m heading home and that I’ll pick up her favourite cake from the bakery on my way. I don’t expect a reply, especially if she’s stuck in work, but I really hope she’s home when I get there, I can’t wait to show off Ally-tastic.

I ask the driver to stop at
Patty’s,
the delicious bakery at the end of our road, and he insists on going in to get whatever I want which is really sweet of him. The old Lilah would have refused his offer, preferring to do it herself, the new Lilah, is grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Moments later he returns with a huge chocolate fudge cake, the weight of the box alone, indicating that he didn’t just buy a few slices but the whole cake.

“Thanks, how much do I owe you for the cake?”

He looks at me through his rear-view mirror, “Nothing, Miss. The whole trip has been charged to Dr Anton; he warned me you might stop for cake and gave me extra to cover it.”

Wow. Dr A, I owe you another hug.

“That was really kind of him, thank you.” I feel the burn of tears prick my eyes, and I drop my head to stare at the
Patty’s
box in my hands, my index finger tracing the large, scrolled letter P. Dr Anton had told me before I left that he hoped it was the last time he would see me unless I needed help with my prosthetic. He said that the surgery was successful and that my life would hopefully continue to be pain-free. He also warned me not to hide any problems, should I experience anything like this in the future.

I think he just told me goodbye, and it feels more than a little bittersweet.

Stubbornness often makes us push harder against those trying to help us, and I certainly tried to push Dr Anton away, especially when I was younger. When you fight for something, you allow yourself to become single-minded in pursuit of it, and it is only now that I understand the difference between determination and pig-headedness; one makes you stronger, the other isolates you.

I guess I’m lucky that Dr A is as determined and stubborn as I am. When I pushed, he pushed back harder, and he never, ever gave up on me.

I swallow down my emotions and smile at the memories of all the pranks I pulled on him over the years. From putting
Bluetack
on the earpieces of his stethoscope to sticking a note on his back that said ‘If I smile it’s because I have wind’, which he wore all day and didn’t understand the continuous chuckles that surrounded him until he stripped off his white doctor’s coat to go home. I wonder will this, hopefully final goodbye, feel the same way for him. I look back down at the cake box in my arms. Yes, I guess it will.

W
hen we pull up outside my home, the cab driver helps me out and grabs my bags. The security guy in the foyer of my building is new, and I have to show him my key card to gain entry. Once he’s satisfied that I live here, he grabs my bags from the taxi driver and offers to accompany me up to my floor. Just like I did with the taxi guy, I accept his offer of help willingly, and we head up to the fifth floor via the elevator. My independent nature rears it’s head when he offers to help me inside with my items, and I thank him and ask him to leave it all in the hallway while I open up the door. He doesn’t seem put out by this and places my bags outside my front door, before heading back down to the lobby.

Precariously balancing the large cake box with one hand, I use my key to open my front door and stop dead as soon as the stale air within, hits me full force.

Something feels wrong.

The lights are off, and thick fabric is pinned up over our large windows, blocking out all sunlight. The air feels chilled, and a sense of foreboding sets all the fine hairs on my body, on end.

“Nicola, are you home?” My voice is loud, but the wariness in my tone is unmistakable. A muffled sob comes from the living room, and my whole body stiffens as an icy fear course through my veins. The cake box falls from my hands shocking me into movement. I don’t care who else is in here, but that noise is my sister and she needs me.

Putting all my energy and faith into my new prosthetic, I careen down the hallway towards the living room. My stomach drops at the chaos that greets me. Furniture is overturned, photo frames are smashed, the artwork still hanging haphazardly on the walls looks like it’s been slashed with a knife and the stuffing of the garden chairs spill out from their torn covers, surrounding their mangled frames with clumps of sponge and foam. I see all of this in the haze cast by the hall light, but I still can’t see my sister.

“Nicola?” My voice is fraught with fear and a sob clings to the back of my throat, blocking the air from reaching my lungs.

Another sob, this time from the corner of the room.

I dodge the debris, aimlessly attempting to make my way through the ruins of the room, but I catch my prosthetic on the broken and twisted floor lamp at my feet, causing me to tumble into the upended coffee table.

I wince from the blow to my thigh from the impact and crawl the remaining distance towards the shadowed corner.

Pain churns like acid in my gut as my eyes adjust to take in my sister’s prone form.

With panicked hands, I grip hold of her thighs. She’s bound with cable ties on her wrists and ankles, a large rope is tied around her torso binding her arms to her sides and some kind of fabric is lodged in her mouth and held there with industrial tape.

She flinches at the contact, a keening sound coming from her that I can hear despite the obstruction to her mouth.

“
Oh my god, oh my god.”

My adrenaline-laced fingers struggle with the tape while tears fog my eyes, “Who did this to you Nic, who the
fuck
did this to you?”

I peel away the tape as fast as my fingers allow and pull the sodden fabric out of her mouth, causing her to splutter and gag. Her eyes are wild and red rimmed. Tear tracks paint her pale checks and mascara covers her face in dried rivers of black.

“G-get these things off me!” Her weakened arms shake as she pushes her wrists towards me, the last reserves of her energy used to force out her demand.

I hold her bound wrists in one hand and cup her face with my other, “You need to tell me who did this to you.” My voice breaks and I swallow down the urge to cry because she needs me to be strong.

Her bloodshot eyes lock with mine, “Wayne. Wayne did this to me. He was waiting inside when I got home yesterday morning. He’d already trashed the place and then he… then he…” her voice crumbles. Deep, retching sobs shudder through her whole body as she tries and fails to keep them inside.

My body mirrors hers as anguish spasms through my heart, crushing it into dust.

I hold my sister, my twin, my other half, absorbing her cries in a futile attempt to take away her pain. Her fragile breaths pound through my ears causing my soul to bleed, but beneath all that hurt, a flame burns.

From the ashes a spark of anger ignites, one that builds in my chest and spreads outwards, causing each limb to shake with its need for release.

“He will pay for this, Nic.” I grind my back teeth to try and keep my fury at bay. “I swear; I will make him pay.”

I pull her head to my chest, holding her tight, not wanting to let her go.