They went to a high-street coffee shop, somewhere busy and impersonal. As soon as they found their place in the queue, Laura regretted asking Cherry along. What did she have to say to her? She thoroughly disliked her, and yet she wanted to know what it was like when she visited Daniel. She’d just talk to her enough to satisfy her suspicions – that he was as unresponsive as he was with Howard and her – and then she’d make her excuses and leave.
They found a table, which was covered in sugar grains, and Laura wiped them away with a paper napkin before they sat down. Cherry was clearly not in the mood to strike up conversation as she gazed out of the window at the people walking past. Laura contemplated her for a moment.
‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ It came out harsher than she’d intended, accusatory.
Cherry gave her a hard stare and then took a sip of her tea, in no hurry. ‘It’s my day off. I work Saturdays.’
Chastened, Laura realized something else. ‘But you see Daniel today, Thursday.’
‘Yes.’
‘So you come into town especially.’
This irritated Cherry on two fronts: Tooting was town, albeit further out, and of course she did. ‘Yes, Laura. He’s my boyfriend.’
They fell into silence for a moment and Cherry went back to staring out of the window.
‘How have you found . . . the visits?’ asked Laura.
Cherry shrugged. ‘I worry I’m boring him with talk of houses.’
‘Do you think he’s listening?’
‘I don’t know. Sometimes.’
Laura was quick: ‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘Nothing. I mean, I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything – it’s more of a feeling. He’s too special, too interested in things, in people, not to listen.’ Her eyes glazed with tears and she quickly rubbed them away. ‘They don’t know when he’s going to wake up, do they?’
‘No.’
‘I miss him.’ Her voice was so small, so lost that Laura’s heart cracked, for just a moment.
Cherry pulled herself together. ‘Sorry. I know you do too.’ She lowered her head, fiddled with her teaspoon and then looked up again. ‘And I’m sorry for taking him away, and on your weekend too. If I could only turn back the clock . . .’ Suddenly she was sobbing loudly, conspicuously, and Laura stared, horrified. Then as other customers glanced over, she grabbed a paper napkin and thrust it at Cherry.
‘Here. Dry your eyes.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry . . .’ but she managed to stem the tears. Laura noticed that she looked even more of a mess than before. ‘Sometimes,’ continued Cherry, ‘sometimes I feel like I’m going to fall apart, bit by bit, find parts of me dropped onto the floor.’ She attempted a smile.
Laura watched her. She wasn’t sure about this new repentant, grieving Cherry. She didn’t trust her. This was the girl who’d lied and manipulated her way into their lives; thrown herself into a swimming pool and insinuated that Laura had pushed her; deliberately ruined her birthday weekend and then taken her son on a trip that had put him in hospital for the last five months. But then, she did seem rather upset. Perhaps she did have a conscience after all.
‘Maybe you should go home.’
‘I can’t. I’m waiting until six.’
She meant the time Laura had allowed her to see Daniel. ‘Look, I’m sure he won’t mind you not going tonight. Howard will be there later anyway.’
‘I can’t. I—’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Cherry – you look a state. Go home, have a bath and get some rest. In fact, why don’t you take some time out? When’s the last time you had a proper break?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A week away. A change of scene. Some time when you don’t think about Daniel.’
‘I always think about him.’
Laura began to get irritated and could feel her compassion wearing thin.
‘For heaven’s sake, get yourself some sun. Take a holiday or something. Daniel will no doubt be in the same condition when you get back.’
‘Do you think?’
She reluctantly nodded.
Cherry gave her a watery smile. ‘I think you might be right. I could do with getting away.’
Laura nodded again, then stood. ‘Goodbye, Cherry.’
‘Goodbye, Laura.’
Cherry watched her leave and when she had disappeared down the road, decided to get a chocolate brownie from the counter. After all, she had something to celebrate. The truth was, she was exhausted. Exhausted from visiting, from waiting, from wondering. Not sleeping well; the doctor had prescribed some zopiclone, which had helped at first, but left her listless. To begin with, just after the accident, she’d missed Daniel terribly. He’d become such a big part of her life, and they’d spent so much time together, but then, after a while, the sadness spread beyond him. She also felt a terrible loss for her new life, for their – her – future. Things had changed rapidly since the accident. There were no more dinners at nice restaurants, no staying in his swanky flat. She winced every time she thought of that beautiful, expensive place going to waste, empty with no one to enjoy it. She’d even had to give the car back the day Howard returned from Wales. He’d phoned her at the office and asked her to park it outside his house and drop the keys through the letterbox.
Christmas had been utterly miserable. Wendy had invited her back to Croydon and it had been just the two of them sitting round the fold-up table with a turkey crown and paper hats, which she had removed at the earliest opportunity. Every time she saw Daniel, she urged him to hurry up and get out of his coma so they could continue with the life she’d planned together. But five long months had passed and nothing had changed. Cherry had religiously visited him twice a week, every week, when she could quite easily have made excuses not to, but she hadn’t and the vigil was beginning to take its toll. She started to wonder how long she would be expected to stay girlfriend to a man who couldn’t respond to her in any shape or form. She was young, she had plans, and the longer she sat by that bedside, the more she wondered what other opportunities were drifting away.
She’d planned on getting engaged in about four months’ time, a year since she’d met Daniel, and if that didn’t happen, which it didn’t look like it would, then she’d have to start all over again. When she thought like this, she fell into an agitated despair, mourning what could have been. It was made worse by the fact that work wasn’t going too well lately. She was too clever for it, and it bored her. She had to work extra hard to keep up her estate agent’s persona, but she felt trapped. She couldn’t leave, as if she didn’t have a job, she’d lose her flat and Croydon loomed. She could look for another, but she’d only been there a year and it didn’t look good on the CV. What she was desperate for was a break, a chance to rest, take stock, get a new perspective on things. She’d saved a bit and could get something cheap, last minute. But she hadn’t wanted to disappear on a two-week holiday to Mexico and come back all tanned and relaxed because she didn’t want Laura thinking she was callous. Now, however, she had permission. She smiled. The tears had come at the right time.
TWENTY-SIX
Tuesday 24 February