‘He explained how you’d become somewhat co-dependent, following a minor stroke several years ago. With all due respect, Mr Bywater?—’
‘Dr Bywater.’ Ugh. That again.
‘Do you think a doctor deserves more respect than any other human being?’ she quickly replied, with a saccharine smile that made him want to argue back, even though he agreed with her completely. ‘Does that automatically mean you know best? Is it time you allowed Marvin to reclaim some life of his own? One that isn’t solely reliant on you and your “professional opinion”? A little distance is healthy.’
‘We only came here today because he wanted to.’ Beckett’s nerves crackled with irritation. ‘He was pretty reliant on me when I found him collapsed on the patio, in the middle of the night, half frozen to death.’
‘Ah.’ Sandra nodded sagely. ‘May I suggest you don’t allow your unresolved emotions about that to overrule your grandfather’s desire to build alternative support networks? You can’t protect him from every eventuality, Beckett. We’re all going to die. He has the right to live freely until that happens.’
‘Wow.’ This morning really couldn’t get any more surreal. ‘Firstly, it wasn’t a minor stroke. Gramps was in hospital and rehab for months. Six years later, he still has multiple complex needs requiring constant care. Given that you apparently now have a clearer picture of his life than I do, can I assume you’re aware of the foods he can’t eat, that he needs help cutting up meat and can’t carry a plate of food safely? Oh, and I’m sure he’s checked whether this lunch is somewhere with a downstairs toilet, one with a handrail, because otherwise someone from his alternative support network will have about twenty seconds’ warning to lug him upstairs before incontinence strikes. You’ll know about the lifesaving medications he needs, some before and others an hour after eating. He calls them his “control pills”, so he’ll refuse them, given much choice.’
Sandra blinked a few times behind her glasses. ‘We have one or two other infirm attendees…’
‘Perfect. I’ll pick him up at three. You can message me the address, because Marvin doesn’t have a phone.’ Beckett gripped the back of his head. He really needed to calm down. Sandra wasn’t wrong about last night having affected him. He sounded like an arrogant prig. ‘Or shall we have a respectful, realistic conversation about how this would work?’
Fifteen minutes later, Bill had merrily agreed to tag along to the lunch as a one-off, on the basis none of the singles tried to flirt with him.
‘And if it all gets too bawdy, I’m breaking us out of there,’ he said to Gramps, tapping the side of his nose. ‘I know what these lot are like. They’ll be sneaking a peck on the cheek goodbye if we’re not on our toes.’
There it was. Gramps was off again, in complete contrast to everything he’d insisted, refused and been stubborn about for six years.
And Beckett and Mary still hadn’t made it past ‘aren’t we?’ more than friends. With Bob whinging the whole way back to Mary’s house in the car, there was no chance to answer. Even if Beckett did have the courage to reveal a hint of how he felt about that question.
When Mary declined his offer of lunch, or help with more costumes, with no explanation and a distressingly polite smile as he dropped her off, he accepted that Gramps’ interruption was probably a blessing.
26
MARY
In fifteen years of being a badass businesswoman, I’d developed a pretty decent poker face. Apart from a momentary lapse when Rosie completely caught me off guard with her comment about Beckett asking me out, I thought I’d done a good job of concealing my escalating emotions since.
Too discombobulated to come up with a believable excuse for turning down lunch with Beckett while Gramps was elsewhere, I rudely rejected him outright, pretending not to notice the confusion and hurt flash across his features.
How could I eat lunch, drink tea, chat casually or even talk deep and meaningfully with this man, when I couldn’t look at him without crumbling into a gibbering wreck?
I didn’t know when or how the tug of attraction, the glimmer of possibility, the tiny spark of silliness had erupted into a full-on, all-consuming, what had to be a fantastical rebound crush on the man who’d turned up out of the blue like a white knight and changed everything.
We’d had our moments, absolutely.
When he’d shown me how to build a fire.
Speaking softly on the phone, curled up on the sofa watching the snow fall.
When the coffee mums had kept dropping it into the conversation at the spa day, as if it was an inevitability, my mind had started to wonder. To wander along trains of thought I’d not dared to consider.
Beckett was gorgeous, in every way. After Leo – especially now there was Bob – I needed trustworthy. For me, dependable was the new sexy. Leo’s spontaneity and recklessness had initially felt compelling, as if it promised a life of thrills and excitement that would reveal me to be, for once, an exciting person, too. If I was honest with myself, and for hours that previous night I’d tried my hardest to be, I’d also found it quite stressful at times. Beckett was proof that safe didn’t have to equal dull. He made me laugh, he challenged me and, however long we spent talking, I never grew bored or tired of hearing what he had to say. We agreed on the things that mattered – like, for example, what should matter – and yet were different enough to stimulate and interest each other.
Beckett was the first friend I’d had who made me feel like an equal. I never felt as if I had to try. He was only my third proper friend, but still. As part of ShayKi, I’d had a lot of acquaintances.
He was also the first person who’d made me feel as if I was enough, all the quiet, simple, straight edges of me. Even as, at the same time, he inspired me to keep clawing my way out of my lifelong slump.
My husband had certainly not made me feel that way.
Added to that, I kept circling back to the whole him-being-gorgeous thing.
I hadn’t been sure I’d ever feel in a position to experience that kind of attraction again.
I’d done my best to shut it down, cram it in some dusty emotional corner behind my pain.
