They went to a coffee bar a few streets away. It was better that way. Laura would soon find out she wasn’t required at ITV Towers and Cherry didn’t really want her barging in on them.
He sat and listened while she told him what had happened—awkwardly, of course, as it would be difficult to hear, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings any more than she had to. She tried to keep it brief. She tried to be careful; there was still a long way to go.
He didn’t say anything for a while; then he rubbed his face in his hands. When he looked up, he was just as bewildered. “Why didn’t you ask to go to the funeral or something?”
The insinuation was that she could’ve worked harder to flush out the lie. “I did. She said it had taken place when I was away. And there was no gravestone, as your ashes had gone to France.”
He stiffened and she knew it must be hard hearing how your mother had discussed your own funeral. He picked up his teaspoon and slowly stirred his coffee without looking up at her.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She nodded. “It took me a long time . . . Well, I never really got over it. That’s why I went to your mum’s office yesterday. I was just desperate to talk to her, hear about what had happened after you’d . . . you know . . .”
“You went to her office?”
“She didn’t mention it?” Cherry countered. “Well, no, I guess she wouldn’t.” Silence lapsed for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“Why did you come to the house?”
She noticed that he wasn’t opening up to her yet. “I came tobring her these.” She opened up her bag and pulled out an envelope. Inside were some photographs.
“It’s our trip. The white-water rafting. I just thought she might like to see the last photos of you. . . .”
He took them in his hand. There they were, the two of them laughing and screaming as they hurtled down the river. Cherry had dug out the pictures the night before from the boxes stashed in the wardrobe. They’d been taken by the professional photographer and she’d got them from the center a month or so after the accident for her own memento.
She had a sudden surge of conscience. “I hope they’re not too upsetting,” she said quickly. “Because of the accident—”
“No.” He looked at her. “It was a nice thing to do.”
She gave a small smile. “So . . . when did you wake up?”
“March. A few days after she called you. When I was fit enough, we went to France. Better recuperation. Warmer.”
“You look really well.”
He nodded, accepting the compliment.
“Can I ask . . . what she said about me? About why I’d stopped coming to the hospital?”
“She didn’t go into much detail. Just made it sound like you’d left a long time before.”
Cherry’s face crumpled. “I know we didn’t always get on . . . but I didn’t think it was that bad.”
His face was set in a stony expression.
She sat awkwardly for a moment and he saw and seemed to snap out of his mood. He sat up a little straighter, focused a small smile on her.
“Are you still studying?” she asked.
“I’m back at the hospital. They’ve given me another place.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. You? I noticed you’d left the agency . . .”
“It didn’t really work out.”
He looked surprised. “No?”
