With a sigh, I delete the message and start a new one. The other thing Richenda did was make me swap phone numbers with her. I was reluctant, but she stressed the need for an open line of communication, and I realise that she might actually be my saviour in this.
Just had a message from Luke. He wants to meet on Friday. No prizes for guessing why. Any chance you could invent an emergency to divert him? Tilly.
Barely a minute passes before her reply comes in.
Leave it with me. I’m going to call Cindy shortly and ask her to come over. Depending on what she decides to do, I can certainly invent something to divert Luke. Suggest you reply to him as you normally would for now. Richenda.
More duplicity, more lies, but I have to trust her. With a heavy heart, I type out a reply to Luke.
Sounds fun. Looking forward to it. xx
Let’s just hope Richenda is considerably better at keeping her word than her son is. Feeling a little calmer, I start the engine and make my way out of the car park. When I get to the road, I’m paralysed with indecision. I would normally go back to the flat, but I don’t want to be on my own right now. A possibility forms in my mind. It’s unorthodox, bordering on unprofessional but, after the events of the last hour or so, I need something to remind me that I’m not a complete villain, and this might just do the trick. Flicking on my indicator, I nose out on to the road and turn towards the hospital.
* * *
‘Hello again, Jonathan,’ I say as I walk into his room again. The visitor seat is occupied by Will, who has a large sketch pad open in front of him.
‘Tilly, what a lovely surprise,’ Jonathan exclaims. ‘I was just about to start today’s crossword when Will arrived, but he’s not a crossword person. Now that you’re here you can help me if you like.’
‘I’ll try,’ I tell him. My mind is still in total turmoil but I realise that this might provide a welcome distraction, for a while at least. Will lifts his head from the sketch pad and studies me for a moment.
‘Are you all right, Tilly?’ he asks. ‘You look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ I assure him. ‘Just tired. You know how it is.’
‘I don’t know how you nurses do it,’ Jonathan says sympathetically. ‘Right. One across. “Agriculture in remote Chinese dynasty”. Seven letters. Any ideas?’
‘Nope,’ I tell him after thinking about it for a moment.
‘Remember what we did the other day,’ he encourages. ‘One part is the answer, and the other tells you how to get there. So, in this instance we’re looking for something that means “agriculture” and the remote Chinese dynasty is the clue. What Chinese dynasties can you think of?’
‘Ming is the only one I know.’
‘That’ll do. Now, what about the remote bit? What other words do you know that mean the same as remote?’
‘Umm. Far away, distant, isolated.’
‘Good! Take far and Ming, stick them together and what do you get?’
‘Farming.’
‘Which is our agriculture,’ he says triumphantly, filling it in. ‘Now, the R in farming gives us the initial letter in two down, for which the clue is “Controversial novelist in a hurry to pass”. What do you think?’
Half an hour later, the train crash that is my relationship with Luke has been beaten to the back of my mind by a flurry of clues, and I’m surprised to note that I’m starting to get them. Two down turned out to be ‘Rushdie’, and I’ve learned to spot some of the clues within the clues, even getting one without any help from Jonathan at all. Will has spent the entire time engrossed in his sketch pad, and hasn’t taken any part in the problem solving.
‘What are you working on?’ I ask him as Jonathan folds up the paper.
‘Will’s a keen artist,’ Jonathan tells me with a smile. ‘He’s good too, although I would say that, wouldn’t I?’
‘Can I see?’
Will looks mildly uncomfortable and clutches the pad to his chest. ‘Umm. Confession time. This one has you in it, and I wouldn’t want you to be offended.’
‘You can’t say that and not show me!’ I exclaim.
He sighs and turns the pad round so I can look. The picture may be hastily drawn, but he’s captured the likenesses perfectly and it’s obvious straight away that it’s a picture of Jonathan and me engrossed in the crossword. Far from being offended, I suspect he’s flattered me somewhat in his depiction, but it’s impossible to tell how. I just know that I somehow look better than if he’d taken a photo.
‘This is superb, Will,’ I enthuse.
