Читать книгу The Man I Fell In Love With - Field Kate - Страница 11

A few years ago I set up an informal ‘meals on wheels’ service for the older residents of the village, so early the next week, when I was left with an extra meal at lunchtime, I dropped in at Audrey’s house to see if she wanted it.

‘Audrey!’ I called, as I pushed open the door with my shoulder, balancing the plate of food in my hands. ‘It’s only me! One of the old dears went out shopping and forgot I was coming, so I have …’

The plate fell to the ground, bouncing on the lino and sending vegetables rolling. Audrey was lying on the floor, half in the kitchen, half in the hall. She was wearing her pyjamas and slippers; a mug lay on its side on the hall carpet beyond Audrey’s head, surrounded by a brown stain; there was another stain on the kitchen lino, spreading from beneath Audrey’s legs. The smell of rich morning urine filled the room.

‘Don’t come in, Mary.’ Audrey’s voice was faint, weakened by fear. A sheen of sweat shimmered on her face, around eyes that were enormous and terrified. Audrey, my lovely, lively Audrey, looked as if every second of her sixty-five years had stamped their mark on her all at once, adding ten more years for good measure.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked, stepping over some stray broccoli, and kneeling at her side. Her left arm was tucked underneath her at an awkward angle. I took her right hand, rubbing it between mine, trying to add warmth. ‘How long have you been here? Since breakfast?’

‘I tripped over the door plate …’

The door plate between the kitchen and the hall had been loose for months. I had told Leo before Christmas, and he had promised to fix it – but as usual, I hadn’t wanted to nag. Why hadn’t I pressed him? Why hadn’t I fixed it myself? Was it because somewhere in my head, I hadn’t accepted that this post-Leo world was real?

‘Where are you hurt? Can you tell?’

‘My arm. Mainly my wrist. I can’t lean on it to get up.’

‘Don’t try. I’m calling an ambulance.’

I started to stand, but Audrey clutched my arm. Her grasp was as feeble as a child’s.

‘No. I can’t go in an ambulance like this.’

I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. I ran upstairs to her bedroom and picked out a fresh pair of knickers and pyjamas. It was an effort to put them on, as I feared exacerbating injuries or causing Audrey pain; she closed her eyes when I inched down her knickers, and I stopped, terrified I might be damaging a broken hip, but she insisted I carry on. It never occurred to me to be embarrassed. I would walk on hot coals rather than undress my own mum, but this was Audrey. Nothing was too much for her.

I couldn’t change her pyjama top, as I couldn’t risk disturbing her arm.

‘I don’t match!’ she said, with a hint of her normal self.

‘I don’t expect the paramedics will mind,’ I replied, putting down the phone after calling for an ambulance. ‘We’ll tell them that it’s the latest fashion: mismatched pyjamas as daywear. In fact, if I’m quick, I could go and put on some random nightwear too, to establish the trend.’

That raised a weak smile, which was better than nothing, and while we waited for the ambulance I followed Audrey’s instructions and washed her face, applied lipstick, and spritzed her with perfume. I tried ringing Leo, but he was on voicemail, so I left a message. Then all I could do was wait.

We seemed to spend hours in A&E, but at least when Audrey was finally seen, the news wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Audrey had suffered a Colles fracture, which meant that she’d broken the bone in her left arm just above the wrist. It was a clean break, and didn’t need surgery, but she would be in a plaster cast for up to six weeks, and she could have residual stiffness for up to a year. For a fiercely independent woman, who was prone to think herself half her actual age, it was hard to accept, and I turned my back, pretending to read a poster while Audrey shed some discreet tears.

‘Has Leo not telephoned?’ she asked, while we waited for confirmation that she could go home.

‘Not yet. I’ve left a couple of messages.’

‘What about Ethan? Have you let him know that I’m fine? I would hate for him to be anxious.’

‘I haven’t told Ethan.’ It hadn’t crossed my mind. What use would he be, in New York? ‘I don’t have his number.’

‘What time will it be over there? About lunchtime? Do call him. He’ll tell me off if he finds out days after the event. Take my phone and give him a ring. Make sure he knows that I’m right as rain, and there’s no cause for panic.’

Reluctantly, I took Audrey’s phone and went outside, squeezing past the smokers balancing on crutches at the entrance of the hospital, to find an empty bench. Ethan’s number rang out, and I scuffed my feet under the bench, hoping for voicemail.

‘Hello, Mum! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. What are you up to?’

I had to lift the phone away from my ear: the love that poured from it, coupled with that familiar Lancashire accent with a New York twist, caught my breath in a way I hadn’t expected.

‘Mum? Are you there?’

‘It’s Mary.’

‘Hello, Mary Black! What are you doing brightening my day?’ And then his tone changed as realisation dawned. ‘Mary? Is something wrong?’

‘It’s all fine, but Audrey wanted me to let you know that she fell over today …’

‘How bad is it?’ Ethan interrupted. His voice was raw with fear. I wished this job hadn’t fallen to me. Leo should have been the one to tell him – if only Leo had returned my calls. ‘No varnish, Mary. Is she okay?’

‘She will be. She’s fractured her wrist – her left one, so she’ll still be able to use her right hand. Although not for a few days. She’s bruised her knee, so will need a stick for a while until that settles.’

‘Can I talk to her?’

‘Ring her in a couple of hours. I’ll have taken her home by then.’

‘You will? Where’s Leo?’

It was an innocent-sounding question, and I had an innocent answer ready. But I kicked at the gravel under my feet, reluctant to give it.

‘I haven’t been able to speak to him yet. He’s probably at work.’

The silence stretched until I thought we might have been cut off. That ‘probably’ wouldn’t have convinced Ethan; he must know that it was after five over here.

‘Will you look after her?’ Ethan said at last. ‘I know I’ve no right to ask now, but …’

‘You don’t need to ask. She’s my friend. Of course I’m going to look after her.’

‘Let me know if she needs anything.’ He paused. ‘You’re a star, Mary Black. You know that, don’t you?’

I didn’t; I lived with two teenagers. Far from being celestial, most days I felt as important as something they’d trodden in. But Ethan had a way of making the mundane sound extraordinary, and the extraordinary sound magnificent. I had forgotten quite how potent he could be.

We had been home for a couple of hours before Leo called back, and then, at least, he drove straight over. Audrey had fallen asleep, lying on the sofa in front of the television, worn out by the drama of the day and the drugs given to her by the hospital.

‘Where have you been?’ I hissed at Leo, as he hovered in the doorway, looking at Audrey. The irony wasn’t lost on me, that I sounded more like a jealous wife than at any time during our marriage.

‘I had no university work today, and Clark took the day off, so we …’

I held up my hand; I didn’t want to hear what they had been up to.

‘Didn’t you have your phone? What if there had been an emergency with the children?’

He had the grace to look guilty, but I was too highly wound today to let it go.

‘You can’t cut us off completely, Leo. You’ve only loosened the strings, not untied them. You still have a family, and sometimes we need you.’

‘I appreciate that. I’m not trying to cut you off. When I made plans with Clark, I couldn’t have known there would be an emergency today.’

‘There could be an emergency any day. That’s the point. They’re unscheduled. You need to keep your phone on when you’re not teaching, or at least check your messages occasionally. If you’re so keen not to be disturbed, I promise I’ll only ever ring if it’s a matter of life or death.’

‘Life, death, or literature.’ He smiled, trying to make amends by resurrecting an old joke we had shared, but I wasn’t ready to soften yet.

‘Audrey needed you, Leo. She wanted to see you. The fall has shaken her more than you realise. I had no trouble contacting Ethan, and he’s on a different continent and time zone.’

‘Ethan?’ Audrey snuffled and stirred as Leo raised his voice. ‘When did you speak to Ethan?’

‘This afternoon.’

‘Do you often ring him?’

‘No. Why would I?’ I sat down, across the room from Leo, confused by the look he was giving me and the sudden interrogation. ‘I don’t even have his number. I called him because Audrey asked me to. What’s the problem?’

‘There isn’t one.’ Leo sat down next to me. His hair was soft and fluffy, as if he’d recently had a shower, but there was no smell of Johnson’s baby shampoo. Instead, when I leaned closer, pretending to adjust the cushion behind me, I was struck by an exotic aroma that made me think of expensive hotels – not that I had much experience of those. ‘But you’re clearly wound up,’ Leo continued. ‘I hope he hasn’t said anything to aggravate or upset you. At least you won’t have to see him again. Don’t they say that one of the greatest advantages of divorce is being able to drop the in-laws?’

I wouldn’t blame him if Leo thought that: I’d often be happy to drop my mother, preferably from a great height. But while I had rarely seen Ethan over the years of our marriage, it was painful to think that rarely might turn to never. Our connection went beyond my marriage; Ethan had been a good friend, an integral part of my growing up, as essential as Leo, in a different way. We had been in the same year at school, and had almost gone to the same university until Leo had proposed when he graduated from Oxford and persuaded me to change to Manchester so we could stay close together.

‘Ethan’s not the problem,’ I muttered, but Leo was watching Audrey and didn’t appear to be listening.

‘Don’t worry about Ethan,’ he said, patting my hand as if I were his maiden aunt. ‘I’ll speak to him and make sure he leaves you alone.’