—
After everyone left, I took a bowl of the latest incarnation of soup upstairs, along with a half pint of beer.
“Knock, knock,” I said, although Meg’s door was open. “I brought you a little something.”
She’d made her way back to the bed and lay facing the far wall.
“Unless it’s morphine, I don’t want it.”
I put the bowl and glass down and sat next to her. She’d lost what little color she’d had earlier in the day.
“What happened? I thought you were feeling a bit better.”
“I was,” she said. “I think I overdid it.”
“I brought you some soup. Do you want to move back to the chair?”
“No. I think the chair is what did me in.” She raised herself onto an elbow, slowly, haltingly. It was painful to watch. “Just stick a pillow behind me. So, how did it go downstairs?”
“I think it went fine,” I said. “I only doused one person.”
I held the soup under Meg’s chin and fed her half a spoonful. She winced, manipulating her jaw carefully. Earlier in the day, Rhona had added finely diced pieces of potato and leek, along with a few other vegetables.
“Do you want me to pick the vegetables out?”
“No. I can mush them around. I just have to be careful.”
“Have a sip of beer,” I said, putting the soup down and handing her the glass. “Someone wise once told me that it builds blood.”
“Maybe she wasn’t so wise after all,” Meg said with a wry smile. She took a swallow and gave it back. “So, when I asked how it went, what I really meant was…”
She fell silent. After a few seconds, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
I finally comprehended what her earlier surge of liveliness and corresponding collapse had been about.
“No, he didn’t come, and I don’t think he will. I don’t think he’d dare.”
She nodded and blinked. Her eyelashes were moist.
“I’m so sorry, Meg.”
“Aye,” she said, sniffing. “I suppose I knew that, and I suppose it’s for the best, but God help me, in spite of everything, I still love him. It’s not something you can just turn off.”
I held her hand.
“So you really don’t think you can fix things up with your husband?” she asked.
A sickening feeling spread through me. “I beg your pardon?”
“Anna said you were getting a divorce. Please don’t be angry—it’s just she’s never met a divorcée.”
“She still hasn’t! And she probably won’t, because I’m not getting one!”
“You’re angry!” Meg said with a sudden sob. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, no, no, don’t cry,” I pleaded. “I’m not angry, exactly, but I am a little alarmed. How many other people do you think she’s told?”
“Possibly Angus, but I doubt it. She swore me to absolute secrecy.”
Angus. My heart lurched at the thought.
“Anyway, I’ll tell her tomorrow you’ve changed your mind, and that will be the end of it. Was it just a rough patch then?”
“No,” I said. “It’s definitely permanent.”
“It might come around again. You never know. You must have loved each other at some point.”
I shook my head. “I thought we did. But no, I’m afraid not. His affections have always been elsewhere.”