‘He’s back at the hospital next week.’
Izzy clapped her hands. ‘You’re both very busily employed!’
‘The good news keeps on coming. Next door’s building work has finished at last, thank God, so they can finally sort out the patch-up job on our pool window.’
‘This is all brilliant. And here’s a bit of news for you. You know what’s-her-name . . . Cherry?’
Laura’s chest tightened.
‘Well, you know my friend Angela, the one who still wears a size-ten bikini? She’s selling her house. They’re using Highsmith and Brown. Apparently Cherry’s been fired. So she’s gone for good! I still can’t believe how badly she treated Daniel. I got her very wrong, didn’t I? Sorry, Laura.’
Laura smiled politely. She was just thankful it was all over.
And it was; it was, she reminded herself later. Not just Cherry, but what had happened to herself. The person she’d become, who, looking back, she didn’t recognize. It was as if someone else had done that thing, and it scared her, the lengths she’d gone to. Maybe now, knowing that Daniel was going to recover, she wouldn’t have done it. But hindsight was a wonderful thing, and at the time, all the medical evidence indicated that his days were numbered. She had genuinely thought she was spending her last few hours with him and she’d been bewildered, heartbroken and desperate. She more than likely wasn’t thinking straight. Something must have flipped in her brain. It was better she forget and get on, but now she had her sanity back, she knew something like this must never happen again.
THIRTY-FIVE
Tuesday 15 September
‘This is the precisely the reason I’ve not yet moved back to my flat,’ said Daniel as Laura produced a flaky chocolate croissant, warmed in the oven. Truth was, he didn’t see a reason to. In fact, he was beginning to wonder why he’d even bothered with it in the first place. Living at home was working out just fine, not because he got treated with breakfast every now and then, but because he enjoyed the company. Both he and his parents worked long hours and irregular shifts, so it was a bit of a lucky dip who he saw when, but that meant they appreciated their time together more. Always close to Laura, Daniel found he was getting to know his dad better too. He and Howard had ended up in the den a few nights for a couple of beers and a movie.
‘It’s cold out,’ said Laura. ‘You need an extra layer.’ And it was. Autumn had started with a vengeance and the wind was hammering against the window, the trees nearly already stripped, even though it was still only the middle of September.
‘I think that could just as well be a jumper,’ said Daniel, scoffing the croissant. ‘This is also bad for the arteries. You know I’m on the cardio ward, don’t you, Mum? Hardly a great example for the patients.’
‘You’re the picture of health,’ Laura beamed, squeezing his cheek. She just had time to flick through the paper before leaving for the office.
‘So what do you reckon?’ said Daniel.
‘About what?’
‘Should we rent out the flat? I’ll just stay here?’
Laura put down the paper. ‘You know you’re always welcome, and I love seeing you the rare times you’re not at the hospital. But it’s up to you. I understand if you need your own space.’
‘Will you get me chocolate croissants every day?’
‘Nope.’
‘Hmmm . . . could be a deal-breaker.’
Laura stood. ‘Hard luck. It’s time I left.’
Daniel leaned in confidentially. ‘What’s happening in this new series, then?’
‘Can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Bit of both. I’m planning the finale this morning with the writer. And if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.’
The wind blew her sideways as she crossed the road to her office and Laura laughed, a spirited, delighted laugh that was all the more noteworthy as they had been so scarce for so many long months. It was a joy reacquainting herself with happiness, simple pleasures, and she never tired of reminding herself of the beautiful, exhilarating fact that Daniel was OK. She’d wake in the morning, or be picking some apples in the supermarket, or be supposedly concentrating in a pre-production meeting and say it to herself and an explosion of fireworks would go off somewhere inside her.
He’d returned from France looking more or less his old self. More importantly, he sounded like his old self – happy-go-lucky – and his ambition had returned. If anything, it was stronger than before, and while he’d been away, he’d arranged his place back at the hospital for his first year of the Foundation Programme. He said he felt as if he’d been given a second chance. Something had happened when she’d left him to come back to London – he’d struck up a friendship with a local woman who ran her parents’ business. Laura had met her briefly one weekend when she was out there; Vivienne had stopped by and she and Daniel had gone out for a drink. She was at least a decade older, had the confidence that came with it and no time for self-pity. He wasn’t one for wallowing, but her no-nonsense spirit had accelerated his recovery. He’d come back tanned, relaxed and somehow a bit tougher.
Laura buzzed herself into her building and walked up the stairs to where Willow sat outside her office. She was her new PA and keen to please.
‘Your visitor is here,’ she said. ‘I showed her into the meeting room.’
She was a little early, but that was fine. Laura was looking forward to the session – it was one of the most fun stages of developing a drama, making up the stories, and the writer was smart and imaginative. She went over to the meeting room and opened the door.
Cherry was sitting at the round glass table, flicking through a magazine.
‘Hello, Laura.’
In a state of utter shock, Laura said nothing.
‘I suspected it might be a bit of a surprise to see me, but not an unpleasant one.’
Panic overtook her and Laura quickly turned away and closed the door. Why was she here? She took a moment to try and compose herself before turning back round. Made her voice as calm as possible, even though her heart was racing. ‘Hello, Cherry. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bit of a bad time. I’ve got a meeting starting any minute now.’
‘Oh. Well, I’ll take that minute if it’s all the same to you.’ She didn’t wait for permission. ‘It just became very important to see you. Since we last spoke, when you called me just after Mexico with the news . . . well, all these months have gone by but I’ve had a hard time accepting it.’