Sam winced. ‘I … um … can’t remember.’
‘Tell. Me. The. Name.’ Katie said through still-gritted teeth, and Sam sighed again.
‘Okay, so I think he may have mentioned Mad Mary?’
‘Oh no,’ Katie breathed, pushing against his chest in an attempt to sit up.
‘Look, he said to tell you that she’s safe clinically and she gets through the work, so just … chill out.’
Katie glared at him. She was very protective over her patients. The thought of her regular review of Mr Thomas’s multi-pathology being conducted in Mad Mary’s zany consulting style made her feel slightly ill. Last time Mary had locummed for them, Katie had patients ringing the next day in all sorts of flaps. Brutal honesty was one of Mad Mary’s preferred methods; she had told Mrs Gibbs not to worry about her chronic lymphoid leukaemia and that she would die far sooner from her obesity, heart disease and diabetes. This was of course true, CLL is a chronic blood disorder that usually causes little problem, and Mrs Gibbs would be far better served worrying about her other medical issues; but there were other ways to get that point across.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Sam said as he registered Katie’s furious expression. ‘I rang him last night on your phone after you did your zombie routine.’
Katie thought back to the night before. She remembered Sam shaking her shoulder lightly and pulling her out of her deep sleep in his car, then stumbling towards her door, letting Sam take her keys and sort the alarm out in his typically high-handed manner; but with the way she felt she had been in no fit state to object (and she suspected that she wouldn’t have been able to recall the codes anyway). She remembered mumbling goodbye and a half-hearted thanks as she’d climbed the stairs, and she’d just assumed he’d left. Belatedly she looked down at her nightwear and almost groaned. If she’d have known he was going to stay, there was no way she’d have worn these. They were her least presentable pyjamas, being over fifteen years old, bobbly from overwashing, frayed at the edges, pink, and covered in Little Miss Messy designs: not the most sexy option, but certainly the most comfortable and her go-to when she was really exhausted.
‘My zombie routine?’
‘Yeah, you walked into the house and up those stairs like you were a reanimated corpse. You needed a break. You needed some sleep. You’ve been on edge over this thing with Daniel, and you’re still grieving.’
Katie rolled her eyes. ‘He was just a cat.’ She didn’t argue about the grief but she knew she was being ridiculous.
He stared at her for a moment. ‘How old was that cat?’ he asked.
‘Thirteen.’
His face softened and he took a deep breath. ‘How many years ago did your mum die?’
‘Twelve,’ she whispered.
‘He wasnotjust a cat,’ he returned firmly, and Katie felt her eyes prick as she blinked frantically to stem any tears. This man must think her an incredible cry-baby. But as a tear escaped and his thumb came out to wipe it away, she realised it didn’t matter, the intense but soft look in his eyes told her he knew. He knew what Lady had meant to her, being essentially the last surviving member of her family.
‘I’m sorry, Katie,’ Sam said suddenly, shocking her enough to refocus on his face. ‘I should have asked you first but … I was … I am worried about you. And Russ promises to keep an eye on Mary today, not let her dig too many holes for you.’
‘Right,’ Katie said, her voice a little hoarse with the effort to hold back more tears. ‘Okay … um … thanks … I think.’
‘Not a problem.’ His face was still only inches from hers, and in the silence that followed he reached over to smooth the crazy side of her head, his lips tipping up at the side again and that intense expression back in his eyes as he looked into hers. He leaned in even closer for a moment, but after a few seconds he seemed to register what he was doing. Katie could almost see the shutters come down and feel his withdrawal. He blinked, dropped his hand from her hair and pushed off from the bed to stand beside it. With Sam’s broad figure looming over her by the bed, Katie felt her embarrassment about her Little Miss Messy pyjamas and her crazy bedhead even more acutely, and scrabbled across to the other side. What was the protocol when you had a beautiful, unreadable man in your bedroom whom you’d slept with twice, kissed multiple times but never actually had sex with or in fact a normal date?
‘I’d better go,’ he muttered, and Katie felt a giant whoosh of disappointment sweep through her.
‘Are you going to meet your mum and sister?’ she asked as he was turning to the door. He stopped and looked down at his boots, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘You should, you know,’ she went on. ‘Maybe it’s not my place, but your sister sounded … well, I don’t know, she sounded almost desperate that you came. I –’
‘I’ve tried,’ he said to his boots, then slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze. ‘I … it’s just hard to be around them now.’
Katie cocked her head to the side, frowning in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders, shifting uncomfortably by the door, then sighed. ‘They want me to be the same as I was, and I just can’t …’ He trailed off, staring back down at his boots again. ‘I just can’t,’ he repeated in a whisper that Katie could only just make out from across the room. Katie had a special talent for people. She could read people easily; she could interact with them seamlessly. It was a gift. And even though Sam may have been one of the most difficult people she had ever had to read, she could tell in that moment that pressing him on what he meant would be a bad idea. She knew what he needed instead, and tentatively she stepped forward towards him.
*****
I should just go, thought Sam, still staring at his boots despondently. What am I even banging on about anyway? How can I make her understand something I don’t even understand myself?
He thought about the numbness he’d fought to keep hold of so fiercely. Better to stay that way, he reasoned. Safer. That’s why he avoided Eva, avoided his stepmother. He knew they wanted to pull him out of the void and there was no way he could face coming back into the real world with real emotions. He was so intent on keeping hold of that feeling, that numbness, that he didn’t notice her move. It was only when she was right in front of him and had wrapped her arms around him that he came back to himself. He stood rigid for a moment, feeling her soft body against his, still warm from her bed, and fought to hold onto the numbness. But slowly her warmth seemed to penetrate even that. Somehow with her in his arms the demons weren’t as terrifying. Suddenly he felt braver. Slowly he lowered his head, resting his chin on the top of hers, and then even slower his arms came up almost of their own volition and wrapped themselves around her. She jerked slightly, as if she hadn’t actually expected him to respond, and then gave him a small squeeze. Something snapped in his head, and his arms clamped around her so tight that she gave a little squeak of protest.
‘Can’t … breathe,’ she wheezed out, and he forced himself to stop crushing her small body to him, stepping back slightly but still holding onto her arm. She looked up at him, her brow dented, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of what just happened, but with a small, tentative smile on her face. He kept his features as blank of emotion as he could, but was pretty sure he could feel a muscle twitching in his cheek.
‘You’ll … you’ll come with me,’ he said, not phrasing it as a question because it wasn’t; if he was going to meet his mum and sister, then this woman was coming with him. She sighed in exasperation, but her smile grew wider and she nodded.
‘You have to be the bossiest person I have ever met,’ she said as she gently pulled on his arm to release her, which he ignored.
