‘I’ll ask Kira to bring Brian over to your house later. She can pick up Rosie.’ Libby’s defeated tone made Jamie feel even worse, but it didn’t change the relief that swept through him at her capitulation. Whether she liked it or not she needed a break. She needed to heal. And, for his sanity, he needed to be the man who enabled her to.
‘Good … that’s good, Libby,’ he said, and she gave a jerky nod, still with her face turned away from his. He sighed and turned on his heel to leave the room.
When he’d made it out through the door he could hear Rita Penny’s voice carrying down the corridor. Some poor nurse was receiving a lecture on the dangers of female domestic abuse and how to guard against it with your male partner. When the nurse in question, obviously at the end of her tether, told Rita that she was a lesbian Rita was thrilled, telling the bewildered nurse how fantastic that was and how if more people went for that option men could be phased out entirely after a few generations. Jamie caught Libby’s dad’s patient expression as he waited by his wife’s side, and despite his worry for Libby he almost laughed.
‘Oh Dr … I mean Jamie,’ Rita said as she saw him walking towards them, her tone switching from militant feminist to soft and deferential in the blink of an eye. He looked to the nurse.
‘Could you do a set of obs – Libby just had another bout of wheeze.’
As the nurse went off to Libby’s room Jamie turned back to her parents and took in the worry clouding their features.
‘Maybe you should stay on a bit, love,’ Martin muttered to his wife.
‘I can phone the café now,’ she said, digging out her mobile from her cavernous handbag. ‘With any luck they’ll still keep me on.’
Jamie laid a hand on her arm to stop her. ‘I promise I’ll look after her,’ he told them both. Some of the fear faded from their expressions and they both looked up at him as though he was the answer to their prayers and not the bully he felt like.
Chapter 24
I’m on to you
‘It’s been over two weeks,’ Libby said through gritted teeth as she looked down at Jamie, Rosie and Beauty, all of whom were sprawled across his vast sofa, ignoring her in favour of the National Geographic channel. Since they’d moved in Rosie had commandeered the remote with ruthless efficiency. Her particular love was wildlife programmes, preferably with insects. She had even asked Jamie if he would buy her a tarantula – he’d gone a little pale, it was the only time Libby had seen him deny her daughter anything; he’d promised her a lizard instead. ‘We’re going back to the flat today, remember?’ That drew Rosie’s attention and she turned her big blue eyes to Libby.
‘Please, Mummy,’ she begged, untangling her hands from Beauty’s fur and clasping them in front of her. ‘I want to stay with Jamie and Beauty.’ Rosie knew exactly how to work the adults around her: she added just the right amount of trembling sadness to her voice and allowed her lip to give the barest hint of a wobble.
‘Little Louse,’ Libby said, sinking down onto her knees in front of her daughter and gathering up her small hands. ‘We don’t live here, baby. Jamie’s been kind letting us stay but we’ve got to let him get on with his stuff now.’
‘Wearehis stuff!’ Rosie protested, yanking her hands away and shoving them back into Beauty’s fur. ‘He’d be bored without us around.’
Libby rolled her eyes; she was pretty sure Jamie would not miss the drawing of a ‘family’ Rosie had done on the side of his kitchen island: the pristine white surface was now marred with purple felt tip, the ‘mummy’, ‘daddy’ and ‘little girl’ in the picture were just smiling heads with two legs that bizarrely met in the middle, giving them the appearance of happy sperm. The ‘dog’ next to them was more like a squiggle with matchstick legs. So, to the untrained eye it was simply three sperm and a sort-of-sheep.
On the discovery of this artistic endeavour Libby had sent a tearful Rosie to her room whilst Jamie (unhelpfully) had been battling with his laughter. He’d refused to let her break out the industrial cleaning products to wipe it off, declaring it ‘a masterpiece’, yet again making him Rosie’s hero.
‘You kind ofare“my stuff”,’ Jamie told Libby, trying to move his leg out from under Beauty and earning a low growl for his efforts.
‘Jamie, please, you’re not helping,’ Libby told him in a low voice, shooting him a warning glance. Jamie smiled and managed to push a disgruntled Beauty fully off his legs so he could stand up. He grabbed Libby’s hand, pulled her up from her squat on the floor in front of Rosie, and then drew her away from the sofa. Once they were next to the sperm/sheep picture on the kitchen island he turned to face her, keeping hold of her hand and giving her a wide smile. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could get any actual words out his lips were on hers. And just like that, her mind blanked.
In her defence Jamie had been gradually chipping away at her resolve since they moved in. When Libby first arrived from the hospital it had just been handholding and the like. Over the last few days, any chance he had he would kiss her, hug her, tuck her under his arm when they went out. Her revision had been conducted mostly on his sofa with her held between his legs whilst either she read or he tested her. Every question she got right he would kiss the side of her head or nuzzle her neck. She was on track to be the most well prepared student in the year at this rate – none of her friends had their own personal consultants helping them learn the curriculum and doling out affection for every correct answer. The whole thing was scrambling her mind. The feel of his big body against hers and his strong arms around her was like a drug.
So when his lips covered hers, his clean, masculine, citrusy scent surrounded her and his hands sunk into her hair, she lost her mind again and kissed him back.
‘I’m on to you, you know,’ Libby breathed as Jamie pulled back and proceeded to kiss both her eyelids in turn.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he murmured, moving on to kiss the tip of her nose, then giving her a smug grin.
‘Every time I talk about moving out you start with the … the … mind-scrambling stuff.’
Jamie’s smile turned up a few notches and his body started shaking with suppressed laughter. ‘How am I mind-scrambling?’
She rolled her eyes and pushed back slightly, gaining an inch or two of distance so that her brain could function again, but still in the circle of his arms. ‘You and your … lips and your stubble and … and … ugh!’ Libby gave him one final shove against his hard chest and this time he let her move away.
Her hair was loose down her back and shouldersagain(Jamie had an annoying habit of pulling it down every time he had access to it), so she dug another elastic band out of her pocket and started shoving it all back into a messy arrangement at the back of her head. Jamie just stood there watching her jerky movements with a slight smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. When she was finished she put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath.
‘Right, okay,’ she started, but her eyes wandered down to the muscles of his forearms and she lost her train of thought. When she looked back up at his face, his smile had gone from small to wide again and he took a step forward. She took a corresponding one back and held up her hand.
‘Stay right there, Big Guy. I’m going to say my piece withnomind-scrambling nonsense this time.’ Jamie held both his hands up in a gesture of surrender and stayed where he was. ‘Now, I’ve packed up our things.’ At this pronouncement the smile on Jamie’s face died and his brows drew together. ‘Weareleaving today.’
‘Libby – ’
