Talk to Me (9 page)

Sloshing water everywhere I sat up quickly and hauled myself out of the bath, trying to ignore the dull ache around my heart. I was an idiot. How on earth did I think rehashing old memories was going to help?

Food was a great distraction and it was fine while we were eating. Shared moans of appreciation filled the flat, as the lids were peeled off the foil trays to reveal the turmeric infused sauces, the fragrant blend of spices and my all-time favourite smell, the distinctive aroma of basmati rice.

It was only after I’d tidied up – no surprise there then – removing the foil trays littering the coffee table and taking the plates through to the kitchen, that I started to feel uncomfortable. Emily had found an old episode of
Friends
to watch and had moved to sit on the sofa next to Daniel who was wrestling with a Sudoku in the
Times
.

Suddenly Emily squealed in delight. ‘Look, Daniel. It’s Sebastian.’

Daniel raised his eyebrows. ‘Haven’t you seen this ad before?’

On screen Sebastian, Daniel’s younger, prettier brother, was wafting around a horribly contemporary flat, all white and dark wood, spraying air freshener to mask the scent of gorgeous girlfriend number one’s perfume before the arrival of stunning girlfriend number two.

‘Definitely art imitating real life.’ Daniel grinned good-naturedly.

Sebastian’s exploits with women were legendary, but he was so charming and handsome all his girlfriends forgave him.

In a way, he and Emily would have been better suited. With a modelling and acting career, he had the celebrity lifestyle that she aspired to.

As I was watching TV I became conscious that Daniel kept looking at me. Had I got curry on my chin? Every now and then I would look up to find him staring at me, as if trying to solve some puzzle. I couldn’t help feeling it had nothing to do with the Sudoku.

With
Friends
over, Emily switched channels to some comedy drama on ITV. Speaking personally, the trials of some thirty-plus woman and her on-off relationship with a married man left me cold. My heartstrings resolutely refused to be tugged when her car broke down on a dark night in the pouring rain. Cue the shot of lover boy in a warm, cosy Indian restaurant with his wife, ignoring his ringing mobile.

‘What a bastard,’ chimed Emily.

‘Dumb bastard more like,’ said Daniel cuttingly. ‘Messing up two lives. The girlfriend needs to wise up. She’d be better off on her own.’ He turned and looked at me with a challenging look on his face. ‘Nothing ever comes out of going out with a married man.’ Then he said more gently, ‘No matter how much you hope it will.’

Surely after Mike he knew my views on that sort of thing? Embarrassed, I just shrugged and kept my gaze glued to the screen until the credits rolled.

Jumping up without looking at Daniel I announced I was heading to bed.

‘By the way you’ve got something on your chin,’ muttered Emily glancing up. ‘No other side,’ she directed, as I brought my hand to my face. My fingers touched a slightly sticky patch. No wonder Daniel had been looking at me. He could have told me. Feeling foolish I sloped off to bed leaving the two of them like an old married couple; side by side but not touching, he engrossed in his paper and her watching television. It wasn’t my idea of a romantic evening.

Snuggling into bed, not even bothering to take my make-up off, I tried to ignore the feeling of dissatisfaction. Turning over I plumped up my pillow and after a long while I drifted into a lovely dream; lying on a warm beach, bathed in sunlight, wearing the perfect tan-enhancing bikini with a cleavage to die for – when some bastard picked me up by my ankle, and dropped me into a dark icy pool with a loud crash.

Sputtering to the surface, I realised that the cold wasn’t a dream. It took me a moment to come to. What had happened? A jagged draft of freezing night air swept over me from the window, which couldn’t be right. It was closed. I sat up and winced, my ankle hurt. It more than hurt, it throbbed but as I moved to examine it in the half-light, the wind caught the curtains, which billowed up revealing a large hole in the window. Through the broken glass, in the quiet of the night, I heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. I went completely still. Someone was outside.

Heart thudding I listened, not daring to move or put the light on.

Suddenly my bedroom door was thrown open and Daniel burst in.

He shoved the door open, his heart pounding. ‘Olivia! I heard a crash. Are you OK? What’s happened?’

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the change in light but then he saw Olivia raise a shaky hand and point to the window.

Crossing to the shattered glass, he looked out of what was left of the window.

‘Careful,’ she said, ‘there’s glass everywhere.’ Despite her calm words, her voice had a distinct wobble to it as if trying to be brave. ‘Can you see anyone?’

Peering into the lamp lit street, he craned his head right and left. Nothing moved in the shadows below.

‘They’ve scarpered. Probably messing about after a session at the pub. Are you OK?’ he asked again automatically. Then he turned and looked at her properly.

She looked awful. The colour had bleached from her face and the harsh beam of the un-shaded bulb in the hall threw her features into relief making her look haggard and haunted.

Splinters of glass were strewn across the bed and her arm sparkled where a sprinkling of tiny shards punctured the skin. It was only when he snapped on the overhead light, that he saw the blood. Bright, vivid, scarlet, red, pouring down her arm. Fear lanced through him as he followed the glistening river to its source – a large triangular slice of glass embedded in her forearm.

Shit, that had to hurt like hell but she didn’t seem aware of it, not yet anyway. She started to haul herself to the edge of the bed still not saying anything. That worried him the most. She seemed almost catatonic.

‘Wait,’ he said, conscious that the blood needed to be stopped but putting a pad on the wound was going to be impossible. Shit, his first aid training ended at being a boy scout a million years ago.

She stared down at the wound as if mesmerised by it and then a sudden grimace shot across her face. He guessed the pain had finally kicked in over the shock and surprise, but he felt relieved that she’d reacted and lost that numb look.

Blood welled up around the angry looking wound with mini rivers of ruby red spilling down her arm, pooling and leeching into the pure white duvet. The stark contrast made him want to shudder but he couldn’t let her know that.

Her eyes went blank as if she was about to black out.

‘Olivia,’ he said, making his voice deliberately calm as he didn’t like the look of the wound or the amount of blood she was losing. ‘Don’t move.’ He lifted the bad arm as carefully as he could. There were tiny specks of glass everywhere. Pursing his lips, he blew gently over the surface of her skin to try and loosen them. It didn’t work. He needed something else, something soft.

‘Have you got a make-up brush?’ he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. ‘Like they use on archaeology digs?’

She stared at him as if he’d gone mad but still didn’t say anything.

‘I don’t want to risk pushing some of these tiny splinters in further.’ He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes with a calm smile trying to get through to her. Was she in shock? To his relief she finally responded.

‘No. Um. Yes, I mean. There.’ She nodded to the dressing table.

With great care, conscious he had no idea whether this was the right thing to do or not, he dusted away the fragments, smearing the minuscule blood spots into little red tears.

Under his fingers he felt her jump slightly and her pulse raced under his thumb. With a rallying smile, he tried to reassure her but she still looked dazed, so he touched her face as if to check she could still respond. Her head tilted exhaling warm breath that brushed his hand. Awareness punched into his stomach, tightening his groin as he looked at her full, plump lips. He’d been this close before, kissed her before. And she didn’t remember a damn thing about it. That thought hurt like a physical pain making him want to kiss her more than anything else in the world.

Her shoulders shuddered, loosening a thin strap that fell down her arm, pulling her camisole top low. The rise and fall of her chest drew his attention. He wanted to stroke and soothe the skin, ease her breathing, scoop her up and hold her, take away the frozen look in her eyes.

With his girlfriend just next door. Shame slammed into him. What the hell was he thinking? Besides, Olivia didn’t want him, she was in love with someone else.

Abruptly, he put down the brush and holding on to her arm, he lifted the bedcovers away from her legs, dislodging the brick lying on the stained duvet.

‘So that’s what did all the damage.’ He scowled. What if it had hit her head? ‘Let’s get you out of here.’

He helped her off the bed doing his best to keep his touch impersonal, needing to put some distance between them. She groaned in pain as she put her foot down. A big blue egg was already appearing on her ankle.

‘Shit,’ she said, as it gave way.

He caught her weight and without thinking put his arm around her, his earlier resolution vanishing. His fingers brushed her ribs through the thin fabric and he lifted them as if burnt.

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’ he asked.

‘Mmm,’ she muttered.

As he helped her to hobble through to the lounge, conscious of her warm skin and his fingers skimming underneath her left breast, Emily finally emerged, hovering in the doorway.

‘What happened? What was that noise?’ She clutched her throat like some 1940’s movie star posing in her nightgown. For a brief, puzzling moment it was like looking at a woman he’d never seen before.

‘Someone’s chucked a brick through the window,’ he said, steering Olivia towards the sofa.

He saw the two girls catch each other’s eye. Neither of them said a word. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He stiffened. Funny they weren’t asking more questions, as if they knew more than they were admitting.

‘Emily, get a towel,’ he snapped, as Olivia sank into the cushioned seat. Emily dithered for a moment. ‘Now,’ he shouted.

She looked hurt but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of whatever game the two of them were playing. ‘And a bowl of warm water and cotton wool or tissues,’ he yelled after her departing back, as Olivia slumped against him.

Her teeth began to chatter and his anger dissolved. Capable, sensible Olivia looked done in, vulnerable and scared, her eyes meeting his and holding his gaze as if her life depended on it. Tonight he needed to focus on getting her to hospital. Tomorrow he’d be asking some questions.

Totally inappropriate curls of lust snaked in my stomach. How was it possible that with blood spurting everywhere and a three-inch piece of glass lodged in my arm, my libido suddenly decided to come to life?

Keeping my eyes riveted to the shiny point sticking out of my skin, I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let him see how my body was responding. Luckily physical signs of shock started to set in, disguising my reactions. My teeth began to chatter and I couldn’t stop the tremors shaking my muscles.

There was already a trail of crimson drops on the floor. My eyes were drawn to a wide smear across Daniel’s bare chest. Without thinking I touched the warm skin. The fine dusting of hair across his chest felt surprisingly soft and I didn’t want to move. For a second he went still, before putting his hand over mine.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his face softening.

I nodded, a huge lump in my throat.

‘Come on, let’s get you sorted. You need ice on that ankle. Then, I’m afraid it’s a definite casualty job.’

The blood trickle had slowed and was starting to congeal in an ugly puddle around the embedded glass.

‘I daren’t touch that.’ A gentle finger skirted around the wound as he spoke.

Despite the soreness of my arm, a small fizz of electricity followed his tender tracing. My heart did that funny miss-a-beat thing. Not now, I firmly told myself, staring fixedly down at the glass point. Talk about bad timing.

I sank into a chair. Thank God, Daniel had had the presence of mind to pull on some jeans. My pulse had speeded up even more at the sight of the smooth muscled abdomen right in front of my nose. It was rattling along like a runaway train. I couldn’t help my gaze following the direction of the dark arrow of coarser hair tapering down into the faded denim. If I didn’t get a grip I was going to have full-scale palpitations.

Emily reappeared, slopping water from a bowl as she hurried over. Her gaze narrowed as it came to rest on Daniel kneeling in front of me.

A timely reminder. Daniel was hers.

He glanced up at her. ‘We need something for Olivia’s ankle – ice, frozen peas?’

Ankle? Forget that. My whole body needed cooling down.

‘Peas. Right,’ she said, shooting off again. Folding the towel he slipped it under my arm to soak up the worst of the blood. Gently he dabbed away, as I winced with every stroke. When he’d finished, he moved closer, crouching between my legs. Our eyes were level as he gave me a reassuring smile and his warm hand closed over mine, squeezing it comfortingly.

‘I’ll take you to A & E.’

I kept my eyes firmly on his, terrified I was going to give myself away. God, if I so much as looked at his mouth, he’d know.

‘What time is it?’ I asked, forcing myself to think of the mundane. Outside it was dark and I could just hear muffled early morning sounds; a car accelerating a street away, the distant rattle of a train.

‘Quarter to two,’ said Daniel, his eyes flicking to the clock behind my head. ‘Hopefully casualty will be quiet. The drunks will have been cleared out. Let me get dressed.’

I settled into the chair, gritting my teeth as the pain began to bite in earnest. Wages of sin. Served me right for thinking unseemly thoughts. What was worse? The stinging in my arm, the steady pounding of my bruised ankle or my mind doing a slow motion replay of when Daniel touched my hand on his chest?

As I closed my eyes, resting my head wearily against the sofa, I was conscious of agitated whispering in Emily’s bedroom. I winced. She hadn’t seemed very sympathetic to my injuries. Any second now I expected her to say, ‘She fancies you’. Instead I heard her hissing, ‘You can’t leave me here on my own. What if they come back?’