The Bringer (9 page)

“
It’ll be fine. I’ll just take a flyer -”

“
No.” He has a smile on his lips, but a stern tone in his voice. “I don’t know exactly what time it’ll be when they release me and I don’t want you getting into trouble at work. I’ll take a taxi.”

I can hear the nurse tapping her fingernails on the door and her intermittent sighs of impatience as James and Sara continue on with their fruitless disagreement, and I stand there wondering if I should just make my exit now or not.

“
But how will you manage?” Sara says.

“
I’ve only got a broken leg,” he laughs. “I’m not an invalid. I can manage.”

“
But you’ll need help and –”

“
I can help,” I interject wanting to relieve us all from this going-nowhere conversation, and two pairs of eyes instantly flick to me. I focus on James. “If you need help, I can help you get home. I can’t drive but I can ride in the taxi with you and help you into your house, help with whatever you need,” thus meaning I can spend that little bit more time with him. Admittedly, my motives are not completely selfless in this instance, but who can blame me?

For a split second I can actually hear a pin drop in this room, I can feel Sara’s sharp green eyes on me, but I just keep looking at James' warm, dark brown ones. I’m sufficiently up with reading human behaviour to know that, for some reason, Sara has taken an instant dislike to me.

“
I’ll be okay,” he says to me warmly, his tone instantly changed from a moment ago.

“
It’s not a problem, James, really.”

He shifts his upper body turning toward me. “I’m sure you must have better things to do than help me home.”

I stand behind the plastic chair, gripping hold of it with my fingers. I smile, suppressing a laugh. “Not really. I’d be happy to help you.”

“
You sure?”

“
I’m sure.”

“
Well, I’ll take you up on the offer, then.” A smile plays on his lips. “I guess that’s two things which I have to thank you for.”

“
So we're sorted, then?” the nurse says to James with a sigh.

“
Yeah, we're sorted,” he says, his eyes drifting back to me.

“
Good. I’ll book that taxi and be back this afternoon with your discharge papers.”

“
Cheers,” he says, but she’s already gone, the door swinging shut in the wake of her departure.

He turns back to Sara who is currently looking pretty vexed, at me, I assume.

“
You should be getting yourself to work,” he says to her, seemingly oblivious to her annoyance. “You don’t wanna piss your boss off by taking too much time off.”

She holds her hand up in protest, but then seems to change her mind, dropping it back in her lap. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get off, but I’ll see you soon. okay?”

“
Okay,” he nods. “Thanks for coming though.” He leans over to hug her.

I feel a sharp pain at their embrace. It stabs me hard, right in the centre of my chest.

“
Of course I was gonna come, you idiot.” She smiles bashfully, then kisses his cheek and straightens herself up, brushing her hands down her skirt. “Oh.” She reaches down and retrieves her bag from the floor. “I swung by your house on the way here and picked you up some clean clothes. Thought you might need them.”

“
What would I do without you, eh?” He looks at her gratefully, taking the clothes from her. “You’re a real mate, Sara.”

I see her eyes cloud over and she quickly forces a smile onto her lips. “You’re very welcome,” she chirps. “Okay, so I’ll see you later, then.” She turns to me. “Goodbye, Lucyna. it was nice to meet you,” and I can tell from her tone that’s far from what she really thinks.

“
Nice to meet you too, Sara.”

The door closes behind her and the room falls silent.

I take my seat back beside James. “So I guess I’m staying, then.”

“
I guess you are.”

“
Can I do anything for you? Get you anything?”

“
I could murder a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“
Of course not. Where do I get one?”

“
Just turn left out the door, the machine's a bit further down the corridor on your right.”

I leave the room, feeling James’ eyes on my back, and happily go off in search of this coffee machine. I find it fairly easily, but have no idea how to work it. It’s got so many buttons and no visible instructions. In the end I have to get a passing nurse to help me.

I’m gone a while before I return back with his coffee.

“
Thanks,” he says, as I hand the steaming cup to him.

I pull the over-bed table up for him to rest it on. “Sorry it took me a while.” I shake my head shyly. “I couldn’t work the machine.”

“
Yeah they’re not easy, are they?” He laughs, but it sounds different, uncomfortable, almost forced.

I sit down and there’s silence between us. That’s when I notice the charge in the air, almost as if something’s changed whilst I’ve been gone.

James blows on his coffee, takes a sip and puts it down. He’s staring at the coffee with a thoughtful look on his face and begins drumming his fingers on the side of the cup. I can tell there’s something he wants to say, and at that thought he clears his throat and says, “So you managed to get home okay last night?”

Didn’t he ask me this already? “Yes. I got home fine, thanks.”

He runs his fingertip around the rim of the cup. “Whereabouts is it you live, Lucyna?”

I look down at my hands and start examining my new human nails. Come on, you decided this earlier on, you were just going to stick with the same story you told the police and tell him you’re homeless if he asks. Just say it, it’s not difficult. “I’m –” I start but for some reason I can’t seem to bring myself to finish the sentence and, before I know it, I hear myself saying, “You probably wouldn’t know it.” I can feel his stare but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why can’t I just tell him?

“
Right.” He pauses but I can tell he’s not finished. “But it’s in Surrey?”

“
What is?” I lift my eyes, meeting his inquisitive stare.

“
Where you live?”

“
Oh, yes.”

“
Right . . . well I know Surrey really well so I’m sure I’ll know it.” The persistence is clearly there in his voice, telling me he’s not going to let it go, and I struggle to contain the panic rising up inside me as James’ expectant eyes wait for an answer.

Chapter 6

Home Sweet Home

I stare past him, my body riddled with discomfort.

Do I know any places in Surrey? I must do. Think, Lucyna, think.
But for some reason my brain won’t work properly. “Its – it’s just this little place in –”
Stop this stupidity Lucyna. What’s wrong with you? Just tell him the truth. Well, the partial truth, anyway.
So I meet his dark curious eyes and shake my head as I say, “I don’t have a home. I did. But I don’t any more.”

And he doesn’t react. He doesn’t say anything, almost as if he was expecting it. He just continues to stare at me with those big deep brown eyes, and I feel like I have to bridge the gap.

“
It’s fine, though,” I say brightly. I try to add a light-hearted laugh at the end but it comes out sounding cringe-worthy, bouncing off all four walls and straight back at me.

His eyes focus in on me with determination and, for a moment, he looks exactly like Max did when he was trying to talk me into caring for James. “No, it’s not okay,” he says resolutely. “How could it be? Someone like you shouldn’t be homeless. Well, no one should be homeless – but not you – no.” He shakes his head. “I did wonder when you came back this morning wearing the same clothes you had on last night and when you said you’d been out walking at such a late hour when I had my crash. I did think – well it doesn’t matter what I thought – where did you sleep last night, after you left here?”

I press my lips together and shuffle uncomfortably in my seat.

“
You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“
Here.” I twist my lips nervously. “Well, I didn’t actually sleep, I just spent a bit of time in the park in the grounds, and then I stayed in the canteen as it was a bit cold outside. I wanted to be close by so I could come back to see you.”

He sort of grunts an angry sound. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “It’s dangerous out there, Lucyna. All sorts of freaks about. If I’d of known, I’d have done something last night. I’d have sorted you out a place to stay, a hotel or something.” He sounds angry and I’m not sure if it’s with me or himself.

“
I’m not your responsibility, James,” I say quietly. “My situation’s not for you to fix.” But how I wish he could. Little does he know that we’re thinking on two very different wave lengths here, and having two very different conversations.

He looks at me, dark eyes wide, flaming. “I know, but I can help you. God, Lucyna, after what you’ve done for me, it’s the very least I can do.” His voice fills with conviction as he emphatically states, “You’re coming to stay with me at my house, until you get yourself sorted.”

“
Oh,” I say, a little more than surprised. That I wasn’t expecting. Then a lovely warm glow erupts in me, like hot molten lava coating my insides.

“
I mean obviously I can’t force you to, but I’d really like it if you did. I’d certainly sleep a lot better at night knowing you were safe under my roof. And you do want me to get some sleep, don’t you?” His lips twist into a grin. “Because I look pretty shocking when I’ve had no sleep – hair all over the place.” He twists a lock of his hair around his finger. “Dark circles under my eyes. it’s not pretty sight, I can tell you –” And I hold off telling him I already know just exactly how he looks when he doesn’t sleep, because he hardly ever does, and still always manages to look beautiful. “– and I get really moody when I’m tired.” He nods with certainty. “Then I’ll be cranky at work and I’ll take it out on Neil who works for me and probably the customers as well. Then Neil will quit, and my customers will go elsewhere, and I’ll be out of business and lose everything, and then I’ll end up on the streets too, and –”

“
Okay.” I cut him off laughing, feeling exasperated just listening to him. “I get the point.”

He looks at me earnestly. “Look, Lucyna, I know you barely know me, but honestly I’m not a serial killer, sexual predator, drug addict, or raging alcoholic – yet.” A mischievous grin etches onto his lips. “Oh, and I don’t smoke – any more - scouts honour.” He does a two-fingered salute, and I laugh at him. “Ask anyone - I’m a pretty normal guy, well, except for a fairly serious caffeine addiction.” He taps his cup. “Seriously though, I have two other bedrooms just sitting there empty. And I live in Chelsea. It’s a nice place – so what do you say?” he asks, hopeful eyes gazing at me.

I look at him for a moment. I know why he’s doing this and I also know what I have done by saving him. But what is done is done, and I can’t change anything now, and if I’m being honest, probably wouldn’t if I had the time again. Then knowing there would never be an instance in which I would say no, as this will mean I get to spend more time with him before I’m taken back home, I say with absolute delight, “Yes, that would be wonderful,” and struggle to control the beaming smile that’s etching itself across my face. “Thank you so much. It’s really kind of you.”

He beams widely. “Great. That’s settled, then.” He shakes his head. “And don’t thank me. Like I said, it’s the least I can do for you after what you’ve done for me.”

“
It was nothing.”

“
No, Lucyna, it was something. It was huge. I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

How very true that is, and he doesn’t even know the full extent of it.

* * *

We spend the rest of the morning through to the afternoon talking, well mainly me asking James question after question, wanting to learn all I can about him. There’s nothing I don’t want to know. And obviously I can’t tell James very much about myself, so every time he asks me a question or tries to steer the conversation in my direction, I do a great job of side stepping and pointing it right back at him.

The nurse comes back mid-afternoon with his discharge papers. I leave the room whilst she helps him dress, then I follow behind carrying his crutches whilst the nurse pushes him in a wheelchair into the lift and outside to the waiting taxi.

It takes about an hour to get to James’ house from the hospital. We don’t really talk much in the car, so I spend most of the time looking out of the window, watching the outside world whiz past before my eyes.

When we arrive at James’ house, he pays the driver, and I help him out of the car and hand him his crutches. He hobbles up the path, struggling to use them for the first time, and I follow behind, gazing up at my new home. Funnily, considering how many times I’ve been here, I’ve never seen the outside of James’ house, but then I guess I’ve never had reason to come out here before. It’s an old three storey red brick town house, a big bay window downstairs and a bright white front door with frosted glass panels. It’s homely.