“I think your mother might be up for a visitor,” she told Emily when she called. “Are you free tomorrow? But ring in the morning to check.”
“Oh…okay.” Emily couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. She’d been anticipating another gentle no. “That’s…well, that’s good news.”
“Yes.” The nurse sounded both brisk and kind, and tears pricked Emily’s eyes. Goodness, but she really needed to get her emotions under control.
“Thank you,” she managed, and then took a deep breath to steady herself. So her mum wanted to see her, or at least wasn’t unwilling for her to visit. Emily had no idea what the level of her enthusiasm would be, and she didn’t really want to guess. Better to have low, or even no, expectations.
She checked her phone again, willing Owen to have left a message while she’d been talking to the nurse, but of course he hadn’t. She realised she wanted to share this with him, but she wasn’t brave or bold enough to call. She wished she was, and she considered ringing several times, but she just couldn’t make herself.
Then, at half past six, the doorbell rang. A smile was already spreading across Emily’s face as she went to answer it, because somehow she knew who it was. Who it had to be. Even though it could have just as easily been Olivia, or Ava, or Jace…
It was Owen.
“Hello, you.” She was positively grinning now, and so was Owen.
“You’re in your pyjamas.”
“My comfy clothes, thank you very much. You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
“Should I have done?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think it matters, actually.”
“Is that a good thing?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “And can I come in?”
“Oh yes, of course.” It was still pouring out, and the shoulders of Owen’s jacket were soaked. “And yes, it is a good thing. But what are you doing here? I mean…what about the pub?”
“The pub is closed.”
“What…?”
“Water has been coming in the cellar. I’ve sandbagged the place and hoped for the best. But it backs out onto the Lea, so…”
“Oh, no.” She looked at him in dismay but he just shrugged.
“Frankly I’m glad for a free evening, and as long as the water stays in the cellar, I should be fine. I put a sump pump in there as well, so there’s nothing more I can do. I took a chance you like Indian.” He hefted a paper bag, and a sweet, fragrant aroma of almonds and spices wafted out.
“I do like Indian.”
“Good.”
“Let me get the plates.”
It was both strange and wonderful to be fetching two sets of plates and cutlery, wearing her comfy clothes and not even minding. Owen had shrugged off his jacket and then nodded towards the wood burner.
“Do you mind if I get that started?”
“No, of course not. I haven’t bothered when it’s just been me.”
He slanted her a smiling look. “But it’s not just you.”
“I know.” She was grinning again. Like a loon.
Owen fetched kindling and wood from the box Jace had provided weeks ago, and soon a merry blaze was crackling away. “Who’s this guy?” he asked as the kitten twined about his ankles and he scooped him up in one hand.
“My nameless kitten. The one I told you about before. He was feral—his mother dropped him in the garden and I had to take care of him.”
“But you didn’t give him a name?”
“Any suggestions?” Emily asked as she started doling out the food.
“Hmm.” Owen inspected the kitten seriously, making Emily smile. Again. “How about Tiger?”
“Tigers are white and orange, though, not black.”
“Not because he looks like a tiger. Because of the Castleford Tigers.” She looked at him blankly and he explained, “A rugby league team from West Yorkshire. Black and orange are their colours.”
“I don’t know the first thing about rugby of any sort,” Emily admitted.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You’re a big fan?”
“I like to play the odd match. And watch when I can.”
“How about Castleford? To be a little different, because Tiger sounds a bit ordinary.” She took their heaped plates to the table. “I could call him Cass for short. Although I don’t actually know if he’s a boy or girl kitten.”
“You could check, you know.”
“How?”
Owen gave her a look and she started to laugh. He scooped up the kitten, gave a look at his backside, and then turned back to her. “You’ve got a girl here, so I think Cass fits the bill.”
“Cass it is, then.” Owen washed his hands and came to the table and somehow Emily couldn’t keep from saying, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” The look he gave her was warm and lingering, and made her remember exactly how it had felt to be kissed by him. And made her want to be again.
She looked down at her chicken korma and rice, and realised she was still smiling.
*
Owen hadn’t been planning to visit Emily tonight. All day he’d been so consumed with sandbagging the pub and moving stock from the cellar, he hadn’t even thought about her that much.
And then he’d done all he could do, and locked the doors, and realised there was no other place he’d rather be but here, with her. And so, without caring about how keen he might seem, popping by unannounced the Monday after their date, he’d picked up the takeaway and hightailed it over here. And like Emily, he was glad he’d done it.
“Have you talked to your mum this week?” he asked as they started their takeaways, and Emily shook her head.
“No, although I’ve rung the nurse every day. She said I might be able to visit tomorrow.”
“Might…?”
Emily grimaced. “Depending on how my mum is in the morning, I suppose.”
Owen nodded slowly. “How do you feel about that?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know.” She toyed with her fork, separating a few grains of rice with its tines. “I
