There had never been that wild, desperate attraction she’d felt for Roland, and later for Eddie. She’d been misguided with Roland, but she’d have married him in the blink of an eye if he’d asked. And with Eddie it was pure joy, as the dizzy, chaotic sensations of being in love settled into a deep love and respect, a delight at being together. She wondered if Roland had married his African fiancée, and if he’d stayed true. Perhaps he had taken other wives, as was legal in his part of the world.
Would it have made any difference to how Luke had turned out if he had known his father? Would letters or a clutch of meetings have been enough to temper his alienation from school, his waywardness? Occasionally Louise had Googled Roland’s name, but she never found any reference to him. She had asked Luke directly when he was twelve or so, ‘Would you like to try and find your dad, make contact?’
‘No,’ he’d replied, his lip twisting with derision. ‘What for?’
Her attempt to prolong the discussion had led to him walking out of the house.
Had Roland ever given a second thought to the child he’d left in Manchester? He knew she’d been pregnant, but had already left when Luke was born. He never knew whether he had a son or a daughter, or even twins. She found it hard to conceive of that level of indifference. And given how he had treated her, at the end of the day perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Roland in Luke’s life might have made things worse, not better.
She picked up one of the packets of cigarettes. It was only half nine; Angie would still be up.
‘I’m just popping next door,’ she called up to Ruby.
‘’Kay.’
Louise looked at the vodka, then changed her mind. She’d regret it tomorrow if she started on that. Another time, she promised herself.
Andrew
The first day back was the worst. It was like an obstacle course, with each encounter a negotiation of sympathy and reassurance, a battery of questions or an exchange of platitudes. Andrew spent much of the time clamping down on his emotions, on his empathy: setting his teeth against colleagues with teary eyes or faces stark with embarrassment; tensing his muscles against pats and strokes and even hugs.
The clients, most of whom didn’t know him from Adam, and hadn’t made the connection between him and the city’s latest tragic murder, came as a blessed relief. With them he could immerse himself in the business of work. The woman who had had a stroke, the post-op cancer patient and the car-crash survivor: he was there to help while they were the victims of misfortune, lives suddenly altered beyond recognition, changing course, tacking out into the unknown. With him they could regain the use of muscles, tongue and teeth, remaster breathing and vocalization, practise the mechanics of talking, learn to speak again. With each patient he would assess where function had been lost or compromised and create individual treatment plans including exercises to be done at home, or in hospital, between his sessions. He liaised with medical and physio staff too around issues of diet (those whose condition left them at risk of choking), emotional and psychological barriers to compliance and the impact of medication on recovery.
At lunch he steered clear of the canteen, avoiding the risk of running into more well-wishers; bought a sandwich and a drink from the machines instead and ate it in his car. He rang Val to see how she was faring, and they compared notes.
‘I’ve decamped to one of the meetings rooms,’ she said.
‘And I’m hiding in the car.’
‘I might be late,’ she said.
‘That’s not like you,’ he teased her.
‘Someone’s cocked up the environmental health training report. I need to rescue it before it gets sent out.’
‘Can’t get the staff.’
She gave a little laugh. ‘See you later.’
‘Yeah, bye.’
He sipped his coffee and watched the parade of cars prowling around hunting for a parking space. It cost him an arm and a leg to leave the car, and though he might be able to cycle the five miles to work, the prospect of cycling back at the end of the day kicked that idea into touch. One car paused to the back and side of his, its owner making motions with his hands, translating as:
