Digging Deeper (16 page)

“Take a seat,” the receptionist said.

“But it’s an emergency,” Flick protested. “Look at his hand. It’s like a balloon. It’s getting bigger and bigger. It might burst.”

“I think they’ve registered that,” Beck said. “Why don’t you get me a glass of water?”

He watched as she dashed off, narrowly avoiding a collision with a young boy on crutches and after that with a porter pushing an empty trolley. Beck was intrigued by how she managed to be agile and awkward at the same time. She was all angles and looked like she could twist her body into all sorts of positions. Beck put a stop to that train of thought. She’d probably break his neck with her thighs. He moaned and a little old lady sitting next to him glanced at him sympathetically.

“Looks very painful,” she said.

“She is,” Beck replied.

By the time Flick returned with the water, Beck had disappeared.

“He’s in a treatment room,” an old lady told her. “Didn’t look good.”

Flick gulped.

“Did you try and suck the poison out?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“Hopefully it won’t have spread. Bad news if it has.”

Flick glanced at her and wondered if it was Gertrude in disguise. How serious could it be? What if they had to amputate? Oh God. Would he believe her if she told him she didn’t care if he only had one arm? No, he’d think she fancied him out of pity. Flick lifted the cup to her mouth and drank all the water before she remembered Beck had wanted it.

Several minutes passed and he failed to reappear. Flick’s anxiety grew. Although she tried to convince herself everything was fine, another part of her brain told her Beck was dying and that she needed to hear his last words even if they were “piss off”. What must he think of her? He’d slaved away on the wall and she hadn’t even given him a kiss. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She made for the first nurse she saw.

“I’m looking for a man. He’s tall, dark and handsome.”

“Me too,” quipped the nurse.

“Well, this one has a hand the size of a melon. Maybe a watermelon by now. It’s not green though. Well, it might be.”

“They’re just patching him up. Room Three.”

Beck lay on a couch with his eyes closed but he knew Flick had come in. He recognized her panicked breathing. Her hand squeezed his leg and he remained motionless. He really needed her to go away. Her fingers moved up his thigh.

“Flick, what are you doing?”

“You’re alive,” she yelped and moved her hand.

“Only just.” Beck opened his eyes.

“I couldn’t see your chest moving. I thought maybe you’d gone into anaphylactic shock and died.”

“Did the fact that I’m still warm not give anything away?”

“You’re all hard. I was thinking rigor mortis.”

“If you’d carried on up my leg, I think you might have struck lucky.”

Flick blushed and Beck smiled.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Better. I’m not breaking my back building a wall anymore.”

“You see, there’s always a bright side. So what’s happening?”

“I’m waiting for antihistamines and antibiotics, then I can go.”

Her mouth opened in shock. “They don’t want to keep you in?”

“No. You can go home, Flick. I’ll be okay to drive back.”

He wanted her gone before the nurse returned to give him the shot. Beck was fine with most things but not with needles. He needed to lie down at the thought of a jab. Fainting was not unknown. He didn’t want Flick to think he was a wimp, but his cold sweat was about to give him away.

“I’ll wait for you,” Flick said.

“No, I want you to go,” he said in a firm voice, aware the nurse would return any second.

“Okay,” she mumbled but she didn’t move.

“Please go,” Beck said in desperation. “I don’t want you here.”

He could have kicked himself when he saw the hurt on her face but she went.

By the time Josh and Kirsten got home, Flick had showered, cleaned the house and made a chicken salad.

Kirsten was suspicious. “What have you done?”

“Why do you think I’ve done something?”

“The house, the food?” Josh raised his eyebrows.

“Beck got bitten by a snake and it was my fault,” she blurted.

“Don’t ever volunteer to be a spy,” Kirsten said. “We hadn’t even resorted to inflicting pain.”

Flick told them everything and they tried not to laugh.

“It isn’t funny. He could have died. He must think I’m trying to kill him and all I want to do is—” She clamped her mouth shut.

“What?” Josh asked.

The phone rang and Flick grabbed it hoping it was Beck.

It wasn’t.

“Hello. I’m ringing from ‘Clean as a Whistle’. We come out to clean your carpets, upholstery, curtains and we just happen to be in your area next week and we’re doing a special promotion at the moment and we wondered if you’d be interested in one of our experts giving you a quote for any work that needs to be done and we can—”

Taken back by the high speed and high volume delivery, Flick flinched, holding the phone slightly away from her ear. “Hold on,” she managed to interrupt. “Can you get out blood?”

“Yes, no problem.”

“There’s quite a lot. It’s on the curtains, the couch and the carpet.”

“Yes,” the voice not so loud and confident now.

“How about sheep’s blood?” Flick asked.

“Er…probably.”

“And pig’s blood?” She turned to Kirsten and Josh. “Apparently not pig’s blood.”

They had their hands over their mouths trying not to laugh.

“We’ll buy a new couch then. Thank you.” Flick put the phone down, ticked the list and wrote thirty seconds. As she walked away, the phone rang again and she reached for it.

“Oh, you can remove pig’s blood?”

Kirsten and Josh rolled around in hysterics. Flick offered the phone to Kirsten. “It’s Pierce.”

Kirsten took the phone and grinned at Flick. “Sorry. Yes, I know she’s crazy.”

Flick wished it had been Beck on the phone. She’d rung to see if he was okay, but Willow had answered, snapped out Beck wasn’t there and broken the connection. When Flick tried again, the line was engaged. She wondered if the swelling had gone down. She felt terrible. If she hadn’t thrown the sandwich, the snake would have left Beck alone. Now he wanted her to leave him alone.

She looked up when Kirsten gasped. It didn’t take long to work out why the beam had gone from her face. Pierce had called to say he wasn’t coming to the party. Flick pried the phone out of Kirsten’s fingers and listened but there was no one there. A pity because she had a few well-chosen words from the cesspit part of her brain that she wanted to launch in Pierce’s direction. Flick put the phone down and steered Kirsten toward the couch.

Josh’s heart lurched as Kirsten sat down and burst into tears. He made frantic faces at Flick behind Kirsten’s back, trying to find out what was wrong.

Flick mouthed, “Pierce not coming to party.”

Josh pulled a sympathetic face. The moment he reached the kitchen he did a triumphant fist-pumping gesture that sent wine spilling from his glass.

“Thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered, grabbing a wad of paper towels and listening carefully to what was being said in the other room.

“How could he do this to me? Should I finish with him?” Kirsten sobbed.

“Yes, dump him,” Flick said. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“How many good-looking, professional, unattached men do you think there are out there? Can I find another one?”

“Easily,” Flick said.

By the time Josh returned with his sad face in place and three mugs of tea, Kirsten had moved from simpering self-pity to full-blown towering fury. He wondered what he’d missed as the kettle boiled.

“How dare he? It’s my bloody birthday party. He’s my bloody boyfriend.”

Josh glanced at Flick. This was strong language from Kirsten who had made a paltry one pound contribution to the forty seven pounds they’d donated from their week-long charity swear box last March.

“How can some stupid shooting event be more important than his girlfriend’s birthday? He knows how I feel about shooting. I hope he bloody well shoots himself in the foot.” Kirsten paused. “Or the head.”

“Or the balls,” Flick suggested.

Kirsten turned to look at her, burst out laughing and almost immediately switched back to crying.

Josh was all too aware that as he came from a different planet—in fact, he suspected a different solar system—he’d be wise to say as little as possible in case he got his balls shot off, too. So, he maintained the concerned look and lingered within earshot for instructions while at the same time his mind launched into hyper-drive, thinking of a way to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity.

“You’ve never liked Pierce, have you?” Kirsten asked.

Flick hedged. “Well…”

Kirsten turned to Josh. “What do you think of him?”

Josh looked around for someone else with his name and in the end repeated Flick’s comment. “Well…”

It didn’t work.

“What does that mean?” Kirsten asked him.

Josh’s mouth opened but nothing came out. How come she hadn’t pounced on Flick? How was his “well” different to hers?

“You don’t like him,” Kirsten said in a dull voice. “I thought you two got on okay.”

Josh turned in despair to Flick who took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I don’t like Pierce. I did at first, but he’s unkind to you. He takes you for granted.”

“Do you feel the same?” Kirsten asked Josh.

“Yes.”
I absolutely loathe him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kirsten sniffled.

“Because if we’d told you we thought he was a bastard you’d have hated us,” Josh mumbled. “You’d have defended him every time he did something stupid.”

“I wouldn’t,” Kirsten said.

“You do anyway,” Flick said.

“So I should finish with him?”

Josh waited for Flick to say yes again and she didn’t. He desperately wanted to say yes but he remembered what Flick had told him, that women generally regretted asking guys for advice, because sometimes they gave it. Similarly, if women asked you to tell the truth, that wasn’t necessarily what they wanted. He pressed his lips together to stop him saying anything.

“You know you can’t really ask us to make that decision,” Flick said. “Do you feel like this because he’s let you down over the party or is there more to it?”

“More,” Kirsten admitted.

“Then you know what to do,” Flick said.

“I’ll never get over him,” Kirsten whispered.

“Yes, you will,” Josh said. “You’ll meet someone special who deserves you. He’ll adore you and never hurt you.”

The pair turned to look at him and Josh gulped.

“Flick, you’re going to be late for work,” he mumbled.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“I’ll look after Kirsten,” he said. “I don’t mind.” He glared at Flick behind Kirsten’s back.

When Flick was in the hall she called him out.

“Remember Josh—listen, be sympathetic, wipe away tears but offer no solutions no matter how much you’re tempted. Maybe this is what you’ve been waiting for, but if you want my advice, don’t take advantage tonight.” She paused. “Wait until tomorrow.”

Josh returned to sit with Kirsten.

“I’m not unreasonable, am I, Josh? I mean, you’re a man. If you were still going out with Sadie, would you have done this?” Kirsten sniffled.

“No,” he said.

“He’s ruined everything.”

“No,” Josh said again. “No, he hasn’t. This time tomorrow, you’re having a party. Lots of your friends will be here. Most of them will get drunk and stuff themselves with lovely food and you’re going to have a great time.”

“You’re so sensible, Josh. Maybe I’m overreacting. I suppose Pierce couldn’t help it. He kept saying he was sorry. Am I being unreasonable?”

She burst into tears again and Josh pulled her against his chest. He wanted to tell her Pierce wasn’t worth it but he was, only how could he? She needed his support now, not criticism. He’d have to sit and listen, offer his shoulder, tissues and wine, but not his undying devotion. Not yet.

As Kirsten alternated between tears, misery and fury, Josh realized he loved her even more. When she felt sorry for herself, she was like a little animal trying to burrow under his arm. When anger took over, she turned into a creature possessed, trembling with fury, eyes blazing like that mad flashing Santa they had in the attic. He’d never had anyone show that much passion over him. He was boring Josh, steady and reliable, always good to catch a spider or unblock the toilet, but there was more to him than that. He longed for Kirsten to look at him and see the Josh he could be.

“Why couldn’t Pierce have told them he had a prior engagement? He could have come here afterward. Why couldn’t he have told me sooner, not told me over the phone?”

Kirsten repeated the same things over and over, each time in a slightly different way as though the list of complaints against Pierce grew longer.

“Why didn’t he explain he was going to his girlfriend’s birthday party?” she asked.

Well, Josh could see why, and before he’d met Kirsten, he might have done the same thing, but he kept quiet.

“I wonder if he’s trying to dump me?” Kirsten muttered, and Josh’s ears pricked up.

“How could he want to?” he whispered.

“He said he’d come straight here from the hotel on Sunday morning.”

For a shag. Josh seethed. To speak or not to speak, that was the question. Not to, the answer.

“I sometimes think all he’s interested in is sex,” Kirsten mumbled.

Josh didn’t need to hear this. It was slow torture. He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her to shut her up.

“He’s much more experienced than me.”

The more she talked the more Josh became aware of feeling something he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe if he tried hard—wrong word, tried not to feel it, it would go away. No, didn’t work. He grabbed a cushion to put over the bulge in his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Kirsten asked.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“That’s so sweet, Josh. You’re not like other men.”

Oh yes I am,
Josh thought, willing his erection to subside.