Take a Chance on Me (22 page)

‘Poor you.’ Fia winced in sympathy as the taxi bounced over a speed bump and he sucked in his breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to cancel?’

‘No, no, I’ll be fine. Can’t let the radio station down.’ Ash shook his head. ‘They need the review. Anyway, nearly there now.’ In truth, the pain was less than it had been earlier. The various pills had done a good job of numbing it. They appeared to have numbed his brain too; he felt slightly as if he were swimming underwater, but it was quite a nice sensation. Relaxing. Which helped. He was actually thinking of witty things to say to Fia, which was a first. He couldn’t always be bothered to
say
them, mind you, but at least they were there in his head.

And sometimes he thought of things that weren’t remotely witty but they came tumbling out anyway.

Oh well. Never mind, at least they were having a conversation of sorts, which had to be better than sitting in awkward silence. Another bump in the road made him flinch. ‘I really hope this isn’t the early stages of labor. I don’t want to give birth in the middle of the theatre.’ Damn, that wasn’t funny. Why had he said that?

Humoring him, Fia said, ‘Could be messy.’

‘And I’d have to call it Butterfly. Which would be awful,’ said Ash. ‘Especially if it was a boy.’

When they reached the theatre, he eased himself out of the back of the cab with Fia’s help.

‘Here, hold onto my arm,’ she offered, which was an excellent idea.

‘God, I should have thought of this ages ago!’

Fia looked perplexed. ‘Thought of what?’

‘Nothing.’ The swimmy feeling was back, as if his brain was slooshing around inside his skull. Together they made their way verrrrry sloooooowly up the steps. ‘We’re like a couple of geriatrics. Which probably means I’m not about to have a baby. Don’t worry,’ said Ash to the couple ahead of them who had turned round to look at him, ‘I used to be a woman, had a sex change, but now I’m thinking of going back again. That’s the trouble with us females, eh? Can’t make up our minds.’

‘Look, we don’t have to do this.’ Fia stopped in her tracks. ‘You seem a bit…’

‘Thingy. I seem a bit thingy. I know, and I apologize, but I promise you I’m OK to do this.’ He turned and winked at the elderly woman behind him. ‘And I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re wondering, Madam. It’s probably just the drugs.’

Now it was the elderly woman’s turn to look shocked. Fia said firmly, ‘He’s not on drugs.’

‘Hey, I like it when you defend me. Very masterful. Ha, or mistress-ful! Quite sexy, in fact.’ Dimly aware that he’d meant to only think this but appeared to have said it out loud, Ash made amends by nodding at the woman and patting Fia’s sleeve. ‘She’s a very good cook, you know. Oscar-winning roast potatoes.’

When they finally reached their seats, Fia whispered,
‘Are
you on drugs?’

She was looking beautiful tonight. ‘No no no no no…’ Once his head started shaking from side to side, it wouldn’t stop. ‘Just, you know, painkillers.’

‘Strong ones?’

‘I think so. But I’m fine.’

The man in the seat beside him said, ‘
Sshhhh
.’

‘What? Excuse me?’ Gesturing to the crimson velvet curtains, Ash said, ‘The show hasn’t even started yet.’

‘You’re being a bit loud,’ Fia murmured in his ear.

***

God, that felt fantastic. She could murmur in his ear forever and it wouldn’t be long enough. OK, maybe he was being a bit loud, but as soon as the show began he’d be quiet. Turning to the man on his right, Ash said loftily, ‘I’m allowed to be loud. I’m the arts critic for the
Sunday Times
. So basically,’ he added, ‘I can make as much noise as I like.’

… distant music soaring in the distance… high voices warbling… and emotion, lots and lots of emotion…
ow
…

… more music… different voices… heart-rending…
aaargh
…

… drums… rolling… desperate grief… people sobbing…
ouch
… and how the faraway music was reaching a crescendo…
give it a rest…

… the sound of clapping… cheering… getting louder… oh for God’s sake,
shut up
…

***

‘What? What’s going on?’ His eyes snapping open, Ash attempted to jerk upright in his seat. A spasm of pain gripped his spine, hurling him back. Bewildered by the applause, he said, ‘Is it starting now?’

‘It’s finished.’

‘
What
?’

Fia was busy clapping. ‘Wasn’t it fantastic?’

Ash’s befuddled brain sorted through the clues. Oh no, don’t say he’d missed the whole thing,
please
don’t say that. But how could he have, when Fia was asking him if he thought it had been fantastic?

Then he saw that she’d been addressing the woman on her left, not him at all. Giving her a nudge, Ash said, ‘Did I… um, fall asleep?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh
God
.’

‘And you snored.’

‘No!’ He went hot and cold with shame.

The man to his right said dryly, ‘Oh yes.’

Ash wanted to die. ‘Much?’

‘Do your ribs hurt?’ said Fia.

‘What?’ Experimentally pressing his ribs, Ash discovered that actually, yes, they did.

‘Every time you started to snore,’ Fia explained, ‘we gave you a poke.’

‘We?’

The man on his right said, ‘We took it in turns.’

‘Oh no.’ Ash’s heart shriveled further still when he saw the small wet patch on the shoulder of Fia’s cream jacket. ‘Don’t tell me I did that to you.’

Fia looked down at the damp mark. ‘Oh yes, you dribbled a bit. Doesn’t matter.’

He’d leaned against her and rested his head on her shoulder. It was practically his lifetime’s ambition. And he hadn’t even been aware of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ To add insult to injury, the pain that had been effectively numbed earlier was now back with a vengeance. He needed Fia’s help to stand upright as the audience began to make their way out of the theatre.

***

Fia wasn’t bothered about her jacket; it was machine washable and the production of
Madame Butterfly
had been excellent. It might not have been Ash’s finest hour, but it wasn’t his fault he’d fallen asleep. And he’d been so funny before the performance, completely different from the way he usually was with her. Usually, he was taciturn, distant, and unfriendly—

‘Now she tells me.’ They’d reached the foyer and Ash had switched his phone back on. Having briefly scrutinized it, he showed her the text on the screen:

Remembered at last—the orange one is a tranquillizer. VV strong!!!

Love, Mum xx.

‘Is that what you took?’ Fia laughed at the expression on his face. ‘Serves you right for pinching other people’s tablets.’

‘She told me it would help with the pain.’

‘Well it certainly did that. You slept right through it.’

‘Fia? Is that
you
?’

Fia stopped dead, the little hairs at the back of her neck prickling at the sound of a voice she instantly recognized. In an ideal world she would have preferred never to hear it again.

Slowly she turned to face her mother-in-law. ‘Hello, Vivien.’

‘Well, well, small world! Fancy bumping into you here!’

Which was somewhat ironic, Fia felt, considering that she was the one who loved opera and classical music, whilst Vivien had never been remotely interested in it. But to be polite she said, ‘How are you?’

‘Pretty good, pretty good. Busy training up the new assistant in the shop.’ This was one of Vivien’s Pointed Remarks, emphasizing the inconvenience Fia’s departure had caused. ‘And Will’s doing
very
well, all things considered. Got himself a lovely girlfriend, she’s an absolute joy!’ This meant that she, Fia, had always been hard work and probably unworthy of her beloved son. Vivien’s miss-nothing, lilac-shaded eyes flickered over Ash and widened in recognition. ‘Are you the person who fell asleep during the performance? The one who was snoring?’

‘I may have dozed off once or twice,’ said Ash. ‘During the boring bits.’

Vivien gazed at him askance. ‘Gracious me, and you two are together? Fia, is this your new… boyfriend?’ As she said it, she took in every detail, from Ash’s slightly glazed expression to his crumpled jacket, from his in-need-of-a-comb hair to the straining buttons on his shirt. Her nostrils flared and her mouth began to twitch, as if she couldn’t wait to contact Will and tell him what a physically inferior character his wife had hooked up with. The clear inference was:
After my son, is this really the best you can do?

And Ash, who had never even met her before, knew exactly what was going through her mind.

‘Actually, Fia just came along as a favor to me. My dear wife couldn’t make it tonight.’ Having assumed a very upper-class drawl, he now stuck out his hand for Vivien to shake. ‘How d’you do? My name’s Humphrey Twistleton-Jakes. Pretty dull production this evening, didn’t you think?’

‘We should go,’ said Fia. ‘Our car’s going to be waiting outside.’ Smiling at Vivien as they moved past her, she indicated Ash and said proudly, ‘He’s the arts critic of the
Sunday Times.
’

***

‘Right, well, sorry again.’ By the time they reached Channings Hill, the swimminess was back in Ash’s brain. ‘Pretty disastrous all round.’

‘It wasn’t. I had fun.’ Way more fun than she’d expected to have if she was honest. Fia said, ‘Vivien’s face as we were leaving—she absolutely believed you—that was one of my all-time favorite moments.’

Leaning across and giving Fia a proper goodnight kiss would have been one of his. But he (a) couldn’t physically reach her without inflicting unimaginable pain upon himself and (b) still wasn’t brave enough to try. Instead he said, ‘I never liked that husband of yours when he was with Cleo.’

‘I know, she told me. All I can say is that he puts up a good front and we both fell for it. Or maybe we’ve both just got rubbish taste in men.’ Fia was smiling slightly, her fingers restlessly tapping the door handle. ‘So I’m looking to change that, get myself sorted out.’

Inside Ash’s head, a voice cried out, ‘I could help you with that, let
me
change you!’

‘Actually, you might be able to help,’ said Fia and for a split second he thought he was dreaming, or she’d read his mind, or he’d accidentally said it out loud… ‘You know Johnny, don’t you? He must talk to you about… you know,
stuff
, while you’re playing pool together. What kind of girls does he usually go for?’

Ash exhaled slowly. What was that noise? Oh yes, the sound of his hopes crashing down to earth.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Sorry.’

‘Oh.’ Fia looked disappointed. ‘Well, thanks for tonight anyway. And when you have to do your review, just say the girl who played Butterfly is a star of the future, the guy who was Pinkerton really owned the role, and the staging was a triumph.’

‘Thanks.’ Ash nodded. He didn’t have to review the performance; no one had asked him to.

‘And I hope your back’s better soon. Good luck with it!’

He couldn’t kiss her. And it didn’t even occur to Fia to kiss him. Watching as she let herself out of the back of the taxi and gave him a little wave, Ash said, ‘Bye.’

There was more than one kind of pain.

Passing the village shop on her way to work, Cleo saw Johnny’s car parked outside it. He was back from wherever he’d been. He’d been away from the village for the last few days; no one had known where he’d gone. But now, evidently, he was back. Oh God, and the feelings hadn’t faded. If anything they were stronger than ever. Jamming her foot on the brake, she pulled up and gave her pounding heart a moment to calm down.

Well, calm down a
bit
. OK, just be casual. Walk into the shop, pick up a newspaper or a packet of mints or something, then glance over and spot Johnny and look surprised… easy.

Pushing through the door just as it was pulled open from the other side, she catapulted into Johnny’s chest and let out a squeak like a mouse caught in a trap.

‘Whoops.’ Steadying her, he said, ‘Cleo, hi. How are you?’

‘Fine! You? Been busy? Somewhere nice? Oh look, milk!’
God, had she ever sounded more like a complete cretin?

‘I’ve been away in—‘

‘Away? Oh, fantastic!’

‘Not really. One of my aunts has had a stroke.’

‘Oh no!’ She’d last seen the aunts teetering around on walking sticks at Lawrence’s funeral. They were both in their late seventies and had looked incredibly fragile back then. And they both occupied the same nursing home. Remembering that their names were Clarice and Barbara, Cleo said, ‘Which one?’

‘Barbara. She’s the older sister.’ There were dark shadows under Johnny’s eyes, as though he hadn’t slept for a week. ‘She’s still unconscious in the ITU at the NNUH. Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital,’ he explained when Cleo looked blank. ‘It’s touch and go at the moment. They don’t know if she’ll pull through.’ He looked exhausted but seemed pleased to see her. ‘Look, you couldn’t spare ten minutes, could you? Come over for a quick coffee and a chat?’

‘Of course I can!’ Cleo checked her watch, did some rapid calculations in her head. ‘I’ve just got to pick up Casey Kruger and get him to Bristol. I can be back in an hour and a half.’

But Johnny was already shaking his head. ‘I’ll be gone by then. This is just a flying visit to pick up some things. I need to get back to Norfolk as soon as I can.’

Bugger. Cleo briefly considered persuading Casey to get off his lazy celebrity backside and make his own way to the Hippodrome, but some requests simply weren’t feasible. He was the client and she couldn’t let him down. ‘Sorry, I can’t come over now. I have to work.’

Again.

Johnny’s smile was rueful. ‘Shame. Oh well, never mind. I’ll see you when I see you.’

A quick pat on the arm and he was gone, the car roaring off up the hill. Cleo watched him disappear from view. Poor Johnny. Poor Aunt Barbara.

But on the bright side, at least it meant he hadn’t been away conducting a torrid affair with someone infinitely more gorgeous than the freckly female chauffeur from across the green, whose idea of a seductive location was a dusty, cobwebby attic.

***

‘I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse,’ said Georgia.

Her eyes were bright and she was wearing a tight purple T-shirt with Dyslexics of the world, UNTIE! emblazoned across the chest. She was also holding something behind her back.

‘Or I’ll end up swimming with the fishes?’ Switching off the ignition, Ash slowly slid his legs out of the car. He was on the mend but it still hurt. A lot.

‘Fishes?’ Georgia wrinkled her nose as she jumped down from his garden wall. ‘You don’t say fishes. It’s
fish
. Anyway, I was listening to your show this morning. And I’ve got something for you.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Something you’re going to
love
.’

‘This doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘Don’t be so grumpy! OK if I come in?’

‘Can I stop you?’ Ash clutched the fence for support as she followed him up the path.

‘Shouldn’t think so, not in your state.’ When he’d unlocked the front door she danced past him into the house and said triumphantly, ‘Ta-daaa!’

She was holding up her surprise, a small bottle of liquid.

‘If that’s white wine, it’s not nearly enough.’

‘It isn’t wine. Take off your jacket.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘And your T-shirt.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I heard you going on about your bad back. And I am brilliant at giving massages. Not the mucky kind, strictly above board. But I promise you, you won’t regret it. I’m fabulous.’

Ash dropped his car keys onto the table. It sounded like the worst idea he’d ever heard.

Then again, his back was still killing him and there was no denying a massage would be nice.

Plus he’d been too busy presenting a radio show this morning to phone his doctor’s office and book an appointment to get seen. And beggars couldn’t really be choosers. If you can’t be examined by a medical professional, why not let yourself be pummeled by an enthusiastic amateur instead?

‘Go on then.’ He took off his jacket. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Upstairs on the bed.’

He caught the glint in her eye. ‘Not a chance.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Grinning, Georgia said, ‘Fine then, we’ll do it on the living room floor instead.’

She brought a bath towel downstairs, laid it on the carpet, and fastened her hair back in a loose plait. In too much pain to even contemplate sucking his stomach in, Ash cautiously lowered himself onto the towel and lay face down, still fully clothed.

‘You have to take your T-shirt off,’ said Georgia.

‘No way. I’m not getting seminaked in front of you.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Spoilsport. I won’t be able to use the oil now.’

‘It’s this way or nothing at all.’

Grinning, she said, ‘Prude.’

To give Georgia her due, it turned out she did know what she was doing. Kneeling beside him, she rubbed her hands together to warm them. Then she began moving her fingers over his back in gentle rhythmical circles.

‘Let me know if I hurt you.’

‘You’re all right,’ Ash mumbled.

‘I told you, I’m better than all right. I’m genius at this.’ Her hands slowly pressed each vertebra in turn, then fanned out on either side of his spine. She stretched and kneaded the muscles and patiently worked her way over every inch of his back.

‘So how long does this last?’ mumbled Ash. He could actually feel it doing some good. The tension was seeping out of his knotted, damaged muscles.

‘Fifteen minutes, twenty. For as long as you like.’ Playfully, Georgia said, ‘So will I get a mention on tomorrow’s show after this?’

He smiled. ‘You might.’

‘Cool! Could you also slip in a bit about me doing ironing at really reasonable rates?’

‘Is that all I am to you? A source of free advertising?’

‘No, but I wouldn’t mind if you just happened to mention it.’

‘Well I can’t, because—’

TAT-TAT.

‘Ooh, who’s that?’ Springing to her feet, Georgia bounded to the door before he could even lift his head. Stuck there on the floor, all Ash could do was listen to the sound of the front door being opened and her exclaiming, ‘Hi! Oh, isn’t that good of you? You must have been listening to the show this morning too!’

Was it too much to hope that his doctor, overcome with remorse at not having been able to fit him in yesterday, had decided to grant him a home visit instead?

And had
apparently
brought along some kind of takeout?

Then the wafts of herbs and garlic grew stronger and Ash heard Fia say, ‘Um, yes, that’s right. How’s his back?’

Oh God…

‘About to get
much
better.’ Cheerfully Georgia led their visitor into the living room. ‘Just as soon as I’ve finished working my magic!’

Having finally managed to turn his head, Ash saw Fia giving him a startled look from the doorway. Hardly surprising, considering she was seeing him lying on his front like a beached walrus.

Thank God he hadn’t let Georgia bully him into taking off his shirt.

‘Oh sorry, I just thought you might not feel up to coming over to the pub for lunch.’ Indicating the basket she was holding, Fia said uncertainly, ‘I brought you a dish of cannelloni.’

‘Th-th-thanks.’ The word juddered out of his mouth as, without warning, Georgia dug her knuckles into his ribs. He’d always been hopelessly ticklish.

‘Just leave it in the kitchen,’ she told Fia between kneadings. ‘I’ll heat it up for him later when we’re finished. Now, just relax and stop trying to hold your stomach in.’ She gave his flabby bits an affectionate prod. ‘I can’t help you if you’re all tense!’

Ash felt her fingers pressing into his sides, only too clearly able to imagine the unattractive view Fia was being presented with. His scalp prickled with shame.

‘Ooh, you’re so
lovely
,’ Georgia burst out, clutching handfuls of flesh through his T-shirt and waggling them like dough. ‘Like a great big cuddly seal!’