Page 120 of The Last Train Home
‘The bastards,’ Tom chuckles as he pushes Go on the coffee machine.
‘I know. It’s almost like they wanted me up and moving, recovering and getting home.’
I look around me. I’m not at home. But it feels like home. It’s homely. Perhaps that’s what I mean. I’m comfortable here. I don’t feel as awkward being here as I thought I would. Other than the boob situation.
‘Tom, you’ve made such an effort. Thank you.’
He places my coffee away from the baby and perches in front of me on the footstool.
He shrugs. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing. You’re wonderful.’
He shrugs again. ‘Anyone would have done it.’
I watch him as he sips his coffee. These are the exact words he said to me after he pulled me from the train.
‘I disagree,’ I say. ‘Most people would not have done it. They’d have rung an ambulance and waited it out. You drove me there. You held my hand the whole way through. You waited for me. You went shopping. You volunteered to house me and the screaming, hungry one for a few weeks. Anyone would not have done that.’
‘Anyone who knows you would.’
‘Hmm,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure I can see Natasha housing me for a fortnight, coating her and Will’s blissful shag-pad in a layer of baby sick and breast milk.’
Tom smiles.
‘You’re a good man, Tom Archer.’
‘I’m not,’ he replies and the tone has changed somewhat.
‘You are,’ I say quietly. ‘You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met. Obviously my dad’s in pole position, but you …’ It’s my turn at shrugging now. I can’t finish my sentence, but I think Tom needs it, so I try. ‘You’re the second-best man I’ve ever met.’
‘I feel sorry for you that you’ve not met anyone better.’
‘Be quiet,’ I chastise.
And I don’t know what else I can say to convince him, but he surprises me by saying, ‘You went into labour early because of me. Because I argued with you.’
‘I argued with you too,’ I say softly.
‘We’re not very good at this, are we?’ he suggests.
‘Good at what?’
He looks right into my eyes. ‘Being friends.’
‘I don’t know. This is … friendly.’
‘This is recompense,’ he says.
I’m a bit taken aback by that and have to think before speaking. ‘No, it’s not. This is us.’
‘Me banging into changing units because I’ve caught sight of your boobs?’
‘Just one boob actually. I’ll save the other for later, see what else I can get you to crash into.’
He laughs.
‘I married a man who was nowhere near as good a person as you,’ I say softly. I don’t feel disloyal saying thisnow. I would have done, a while ago. But now I know it’s the truth.
