Heller's Girlfriend (24 page)

“Who will be looking after you
when you go home?” she asked. “You need someone to change your
dressings for you, otherwise you’re staying right here. So who will
it be? I need to give them some instructions.”

“I will,” said Heller from the
doorway.

She spun around and her eyes
nearly popped out of her head. She turned back to me. “Lucky you!”
she whispered.

“No, you won’t,” I contradicted
him, noticing that he was dressed for going out. “You’re too busy
to look after me. Ask Daniel to come here to listen to the
doctor.”

“Matilda,” he remonstrated.

“Heller,” I insisted. “It’s the
truth. You’re out all the time. Ask Daniel, please. I want somebody
who will be there for me.”

We locked eyes for a long moment
before he whipped out his mobile, snapping out a peremptory order
to Daniel to get himself over to the hospital immediately. He sat
down next to my bed, showing some temper.

Twenty silent minutes later,
Daniel and Niq turned up in my room. Daniel willingly agreed to
play nursemaid to me for the next week or so. He listened carefully
and intelligently to the doctor’s instructions on changing
dressings. She then loaded him up with enough materials to get
through the next week. As she spoke, a nurse disconnected me from
all of the tubes.

Heller had a date and had to
leave, but Daniel and Niq waited with me while all the paperwork
for my discharge was completed. I changed into some street clothes,
slowly and painfully. I hadn’t had a proper shower since the fire
and could still smell smoke on my body and in my hair. I couldn’t
wait to get under the water and lather up. The doctor gave me very
strict instructions on bathing and moving around, virtually
confining me to my bed for another week. I insincerely promised to
do what she said.

She shot me a shrewd glance.
“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” Then she patted me on the shoulder
with surprising affection. “I want you to see your own doctor in a
week’s time so that they can check your progress. But if there are
any problems at all, come back here. Can I trust you to do that at
least?”

I agreed, happily accompanying
Daniel and Niq from the hospital. Daniel assisted me into the front
passenger seat and I leaned back gratefully, declaring, “I can’t
wait to be home again. I’m sick to death of hospitals. I never want
to set foot in one again.”

“Do you want to move in with me
for a while so I can look after you?”

I thought about it for a while –
it was a tempting offer. “Thanks anyway, but I want to be back in
my little place. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

While we drove I rang Will, but
was diverted to voicemail yet again. I left an abrupt message,
hoping that he’d ring me back tonight. It felt like ages since I’d
even spoken to him.

After we parked in the first
basement of the Warehouse, I made slow progress up the stairs to
the ground floor.

“I wish we’d get that lift
fixed,” I moaned. “These stairs are too much sometimes.” Niq rushed
to prop himself under my armpit, helping me up the stairs.

We made it to the ground
floor.

“Clive wants a quick word with
you, Tilly,” said Daniel, gently taking my hand and leading me to
the security section.

“But I need a shower. I stink,”
I complained. “Clive can wait.”

“Just a quick word he promised,”
he insisted and opened the door, stepping in. I followed him in,
only to be met with a wall of sound.

“
Welcome home, Tilly!
”
shouted as many men as the room could hold.

I stood as still as a statue,
shocked beyond any reasonable thought or action for some moments,
my eyes huge with astonishment. But then I suddenly relaxed and
started laughing and laughing, hand to my mouth. What a wonderful
ambush!

I turned to Niq and hugged him
tightly and kissed him. “How did
you
keep such a surprise,
pipsqueak?”

“It was so hard, but Daniel told
me I had to,” he said, justifiably proud of himself.

I hugged Daniel tightly and
kissed him too, then spent the next twenty minutes gently slapping
hands, receiving careful hugs and pats on the back, and talking,
talking, talking. Clive and Sid were there and so was Farrell,
still on his crutches. He even managed a whole half-smile, so I
gathered he wasn’t unhappy to see me back in the office.

Someone shoved a cold glass of
wine into my bandaged hand, though looking around I noticed that
all the men were drinking beer.
How thoughtful was that?
The
wine was cool and refreshing on my throat, although I was pretty
sure it wasn’t in my strict list of instructions from the doctor to
indulge in alcoholic beverages while I recovered.
One wouldn’t
matter
, I rationalised to myself. Or three as it ended up
becoming.

Clive completely humiliated both
Farrell and me by making us stand in front of our colleagues while
he gave a short but pointed speech about the importance of our work
and what a difference we can make to people’s lives. For a moment,
I optimistically began to think this might herald an important
break-through in our relationship. But then he turned his hard,
flat eyes on me, reminding all the men that recklessly endangering
their lives for the sake of the job was not something Heller or he
encouraged or endorsed. Or appreciated.

A hearty three cheers from the
men softened the sting of that unsubtle rebuke. Farrell and I
exchanged a wry glance and then the formalities were over and the
men applied their attention to some serious beer sinking.

There was a range of nibblies on
offer, none of them healthy. I scoffed down mini sausage rolls and
party pies, mini hotdogs, chips, crackers and dips and tiny spring
rolls as if I hadn’t eaten for a week. I wondered who’d organised
the catering. It surely hadn’t been anyone living with Heller –
that was patently obvious. It was probably the men. I would no
doubt feel sick afterwards, but I enjoyed the junk food while I ate
it.

Someone turned on the music and
the conversational hum increased in volume. A couple of dartboards
had been set up on one of the office walls. The men indulged in
hotly contested, almost to-the-death darts matches, with serious
and highly amusing trash-talking amongst the competitors. They
questioned each other’s sexual abilities, the staying power and
length of their respective manhoods, and the faithfulness and
virtue of each other’s mothers, sisters, wives and girlfriends. I
listened in for a while and so did Niq, but I was forced to clap my
hands over his ears a few times when the language became a little
too colourful or the insults a tad too vulgar. He didn’t appreciate
me treating him like a baby and moved away from me so he could
listen to the men unobstructed by my unwanted motherliness,
reminding me heatedly that he was
fourteen
, practically a
man.

Daniel and I danced together
slowly, out of time with the music, but I wasn’t capable of moving
any faster.

“Did you arrange this?” I said
in his ear, my chin resting nicely on his shoulder.

“Some of it,” he replied softly
in my ear. “The alcohol, the dartboards, the music and the
coordination. But not the food. Don’t blame me for that! The men
wanted to organise that themselves.”

“I knew it! Thanks, Danny
darling. It’s so sweet of you.” I kissed him on the cheek and we
wandered off to find some more food. Then I danced with Niq for a
while as well. I didn’t dare dance with anybody else and nobody
asked, only too aware of Clive’s watchful presence.

Farrell leaned up against a
wall, watching the darts matches, so I joined him, swapping his
empty beer bottle for a full one. I leaned on the wall next to
him.

“Thanks, Chalmers. How are you
feeling?”

“Better than I was a few days
ago. Did you have a clue about this tonight?”

“Not a hint. They waylaid me as
well.” He looked around at our laughing workmates. “It’s nice
though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to be
appreciated and I liked what Clive said about making a difference,”
I said, conveniently ignoring what he’d said about the folly of
risking your life. I yawned, suddenly tired. “I should go to bed. I
only just got out of hospital. What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “Jesus!
It’s eleven-thirty!”

“Shit! I’ve broken about ten of
the doctor’s rules already,” I said guiltily. “I better go. I
really need a shower. See you later, Farrell.”

“Later, Chalmers.”

I slipped out without attracting
any attention and promptly ran into Heller making his way up from
the basement. He stood on the landing casting his head in
puzzlement towards the raucous noise seeping from behind the closed
security door.

“Matilda? What are still you
doing up? You should be asleep at this hour,” he reprimanded. “You
were just discharged from hospital.”

“I’m going to bed now.”

“What’s going on in there?” he
asked, indicating the security section.

“I’m going to bed,” I repeated
and walked up the stairs as fast as I could. He could find out what
had been happening in his absence by himself. Obviously, nobody had
expected him home so early and nobody had told him what was going
to take place. He could sort it out with the men.

I let myself into my flat and
headed straight for the shower. I put on the plastic gloves the
doctor had given me and the plastic wraps for the bandages on my
arms and stood under the water for ages. It felt so good, if just a
little bit painful on my still pink skin. I washed my hair free of
all the smoke smell and gently rubbed my skin with the expensive
handmade scented soap that I preferred. Afterwards I carefully
patted myself dry, combed my hair, applied a moisturiser liberally
to my poor skin and slipped into some clean, fresh pyjamas. I
brushed my teeth, flossed, gargled, rinsed and climbed gratefully
into my soft, supportive bed with its crisp sheets and fell asleep
immediately.

A few hours later a noise in my
flat woke me up. I listened again, my heart pounding, then relaxed
when I realised that I recognised my prowler. A second later Heller
walked into my bedroom, dressed in nothing but the boxers he
normally wore to bed when I was staying with him.

“You have to stop doing this,
Heller. You woke me up and I’m very tired,” I complained
wearily.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, but I
really needed to see you. I only meant to be here for a minute.” He
sat on the bed.

“What? You were going to come in
here, look at me, then go away? Why would you bother doing
that?”

“Just to make sure you were
okay. I woke up thinking about you and I started worrying. I needed
to check on you.” He stroked my hair. “I wouldn’t have to do this
if you were staying with me.”

“It’s not right to do that any
more. You have a girlfriend now and I have a boyfriend.”

“What makes you think she’s my
girlfriend? I’ve never said that. And as for your boyfriend, well,
what’s happened to him? He didn’t visit you in hospital. Has he
even rung you to see if you’re all right?”

“No,” I said in a small voice.
“I couldn’t get hold of him. I left a message. I guess he’s been
busy.”

“What could be more important
than you?”

“You seem to find plenty of
things that are,” I retorted with unhidden resentment.

“That’s not fair.”

“What is in life, Heller? Now,
please, I really need to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about
what was planned for tonight? I would have liked to have been
there. You and Farrell deserve to be publicly recognised by your
boss.”

“I don’t know,” I snapped in
frustration. “I didn’t even know it was going to happen. You should
ask your men that question. Maybe they didn’t think you’d approve.
Maybe they thought you were too busy socialising with the woman
who’s not your girlfriend and didn’t have time for anyone else. Now
please, can you leave? I need to sleep.”

He turned and left quietly.

Chapter 18

After another few weeks of
convalescing, including a check-up with Dr Kincaid where I received
the all-clear, Heller deemed me well enough to go back to work. I
was mostly recovered, only a few small patches remaining on some of
the worst burns, and my skin had returned to normal.

Heller called Clive and me to
his office. We came in and sat down. He smiled at us.

“I have a new assignment for
next week. Very high profile. Yoni Lemere will be in the city for
approximately one week from Saturday.”

Yoni Lemere!
She was an
ex-pat Hollywood A-lister and this assignment would be my first
encounter with a real celebrity, although I’d worked for famous
people before. The media would go wild on her return, especially as
she had recently, and very acrimoniously, broken up with her second
husband, another actor. He’d walked out on her for his sexy young
co-star after they’d both strenuously denied any marriage problems
for months beforehand. She hadn’t handled the split with great
dignity, being filmed by the paparazzi, exceedingly drunk and only
half-dressed, yelling abuse at him from the street outside his
house in the middle of the night. It had become a YouTube sensation
and her creative use and extensive knowledge of curse words had
equally amused and shocked the world.

“She’s here doing publicity for
her new movie, including attending its premiere, as well as some
charity work. She needs a security team, about six men, with her
whenever she’s in public, which will be frequently. She also wants
someone with her at all times, so I’m afraid that means another
sleep-over job for you, Matilda.”

“Good,” I blurted out without
thinking. His expression was unreadable. There was nothing I would
love more than to be safely away from any prospect of having to
listen to further long and boring exaltations about Vanessa.