Cherry recovered first. “Hello, Laura.”
“Hello, Cherry.”
They both stood there, bound together by one man, yet unsure of their own relationship.
“I think it’s time we had a chat, don’t you?” said Laura.
* * *
They went to a high-street coffee shop, something busy and impersonal. As soon as they found their place in the queue, Laura regretted asking Cherry along. What did she have to say to her? She thoroughly disliked her, and, yet, she wanted to know what it was like when she visited Daniel. She’d just talk to her enough to satisfy her suspicions—that he was as unresponsive with Cherry as he was with her and Howard—and then she’d make her excuses and leave.
They found a table that was covered in sugar grains and Laura wiped them away with a paper napkin. They sat and Cherry was clearly not in the mood to strike up conversation as she gazed out the window at the people walking past. Laura contemplated her for a moment.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” It came out harsher than she’d intended, accusatory.
Cherry gave her a hard stare and then took a sip of her tea, in no hurry. “It’s my day off. I work Saturdays.”
Chastened, Laura realized something else. “But you see Daniel today, Thursdays.”
“Yes.”
“So you come into town especially.”
This irritated Cherry on two fronts: Tootingwastown, albeit farther out, and of course she did. “Yes, Laura. He’s my boyfriend.”
They fell into silence for a moment and Cherry went back to staring out the window.
“How have you found . . . the visits?” asked Laura.
Cherry shrugged. “I worry I’m boring him with talk of houses.”
“Do you think he’s listening?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes.”
Laura was quick: “Why, what’s he done?”
“Nothing, I mean I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything—it’s more of a feeling. He’s too special, too interested in things, in people, not to listen.” Her eyes glazed with tears and she quickly rubbed them away. “They don’t know when he’s going to wake up, do they?”
“No.”
“I miss him.” Her voice was so small, so lost, that Laura’s heart cracked, for just a moment.
Cherry pulled herself together. “Sorry, I know you do too.” She lowered her head, fiddled with her teaspoon, and then looked up again. “And I’m sorry for taking him away, and on your weekend too. If I could only turn back the clock . . .” Suddenly she was sobbing loudly, conspicuously, and Laura stared, horrified. Then as other customers glanced over, she grabbed a paper napkin and thrust it at Cherry.
“Here. Dry your eyes.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. . . .” But she managed to stem the tears. Laura noticed that she looked even more of a mess than before. “Sometimes,” continued Cherry, “sometimes I feel like I’m going to fall apart, bit by bit, find parts of me dropped onto the floor.” She attempted a smile.
Laura watched her. She wasn’t sure about this new repentant, grieving Cherry. She didn’t trust her. This was the girl who’d lied and manipulated her way into their lives, thrown herself into a swimming pool and insinuated that Laura had pushed her. She had deliberately ruined Laura’s birthday weekend, and then had taken her son on a trip that had put him in the hospital for five months. But then, she did seem rather upset. Perhaps, after all, she had a conscience.
“Maybe you should go home.”
“I can’t. I’m waiting until six.”
She meant the time Laura had allowed her to see Daniel. “Look, I’m sure he won’t mind your not going tonight. Howard will be there later anyway.”
“I can’t, I—”
