see? I’m fighting it right now.
You must think I’m …
Sorry about that, Sam. I needed a few minutes to compose myself. I made a cup of tea.
It’s time to move on and tell you about something else. Lighten things up.
So Rick phoned me yesterday.
‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘How’s Ruby? Anna said she wasn’t at school today. She was worried about her. Me too, of course.’
He sounded nervous. Embarrassed. Not the self-assured, relaxed person I’d first met. No doubt he felt bad about the way he’d reacted to Ruby’s injury. He’d not exactly been supportive. Useless more like.
‘Well, she has a broken arm,’ I replied.
‘Right. Oh dear. Everything went well at the hospital?’
‘Yes. It took a while, but we got there in the end.’
‘Ruby’s arm’s in plaster now?’
‘That’s right.’
There was a long pause. He was waiting for me to expand, but I didn’t feel like making things easy, so I stayed silent; waited for him to say something else.
‘Right. That’s good. The plaster, I mean. Well, not good exactly, but it’ll help it to heal.’
‘Yes,’ I said, enjoying feeling in control for once. I almost mentioned that my husband had joined us at the hospital but thought better of it. Why risk blowing things when they’d reached such an interesting phase?
‘How long is Ruby likely to be off school?’ he asked.
‘Not long. She should be back next week.’
‘Oh, good. I’ll tell Anna that. She’ll be pleased.’
Rick went on to apologise for ‘being a little squeamish’, as he put it, asking for the chance to make it up to us.
‘I’m not a bad cook,’ he said. ‘I wondered if the two of you might like to come over for some food this weekend. Only if Ruby’s up to it, of course.’
I said yes. I’m not a big fan of apologies, as I’m sure you remember, but he is gorgeous and I couldn’t resist.
We’re visiting their place tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes in my next letter, which I promise will be more upbeat.
Love as always,
M
Xx
Friday, 3 March 2017
‘One for the road?’ Maurice mimed smoking a cigarette at Dan, holding out his two fingers and gesturing towards the door of the newsroom.
‘Go on then.’
‘Can I be cheeky?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll buy you a pack next week. I must owe you at least twenty by now.’
‘Cool.’
‘What are you working on?’ Dan asked his friend as they waited for the lift.
‘I’m trying to nail a good headline but not getting very far. I think my brain’s fried.’
‘What’s the story?’
‘It’s about a United fan who flew to Holland alone for the match in Eindhoven this week but had his ticket stolen and ended up watching it on TV in an Indian takeaway near the stadium.’
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