Rebecca didn’t say anything for a moment. She just sat there, processing the information. ‘Ski? Luke? He’ll break his blessed neck on the nursery slopes.’
Images of him dancing in the kitchen cooking sprang to mind. She hadn’t caught him yet, but she could tell he wasn’t moving around like a normal person would.
‘Does Hans know he’s a clumsy oaf? He’s basically Mr Magoo. Mr Hot Magoo. It’s a fool’s errand.’
‘Care, do you?’ Holly waggled her blonde eyebrows, giggling again.
‘No. But if he smacks headfirst into a barrier, where will he stay, eh?’ She waved her arms around her like a preacher delivering a sermon. ‘He can’t live here.’ She nodded to the coffee table, the art books and the latest thriller of Hans’s open on the glass surface. ‘You’d have to bubble wrap the place.’
Holly looked around her. ‘He won’t need to come here. He’s got a room, with you. I have a nurse’s outfit in the closet. I won’t need it for a while. Hans has a doctor outfit too, but I doubt Luke will fit it.’
‘Eugh!’ Rebecca got up, taking that gross image into the dark depths of her mind and dousing it in acid for good measure. ‘That’s my cue to leave. I’ll speak to Hans myself. You need anything from the shops?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Unless you can get me a waistline, I’m good here. Netflix is babysitting me.’
Rebecca squashed her friend in a hug, not letting her get up. She looked tired, and comfy where she was. Pulling a throw off the back of the sofa, she covered her friend’s legs and raised her legs up onto a cushion. ‘Good, stay put. Love you.’
‘Love you,’ Holly smiled at her, remote in hand now. ‘Now go get that stud muffin.’
Rebecca could hear her friend’s laughter even after she closed the front door. The woman was a huge pain in the posterior. Saturday was going to be bloody awful, and she still had to brave the shops. It wasn’t till she’d left Holly’s that she realised, she hadn’t asked Holly about Saturday at all.
Chapter 6
Luke finished the last of his calls and headed to the kitchen to make himself a drink. He’d been talking for so long, his mouth was as dry as the bottom of a parrot’s cage. He sounded like James Earl Jones. He was still feeling a bit tired and hungover, and his clients hadn’t taken it easy on him. He’d realised over the last few days just how accessible he’d been to them in the past. Call me any time was not manageable here, with all the upheaval. Plus, being a houseguest made him hyper aware of all his actions. He’d already trashed most of her gaff, and made a tit of himself more times than he wanted to think about too. Looking around the neat kitchen, he tidied away the dishes from the other night, flicking on some music to work to. Then he made a coffee, put some toast under the grill and hunted in the fridge for the cheese he’d bought. It was still there untouched, amongst the wine, fresh vegetables, and fruit. For a baker, she ate like an athlete. She’d still ripped into his steak though. It was nice to see a fellow carnivore enjoy a meal. Luke always loved his steak and pint nights with his dad down at the pub every Wednesday. The pair of them would never miss a week for the world. Till now. Today was Wednesday, and for the first time in their relationship, they weren’t even speaking.
His dad had never pushed him away like that before. The fact that he’d had a stroke at the wheel and survived a car crash barely intact was bad enough. They’d had to cut him out of his car, and he knew how his dad would have felt about that. He hated people hovering around him and never wanted a fuss – he was a proud man. But that moment in the hospital room had tipped Luke over the edge. He could see that he was the cause of his father’s distressed state. Although he couldn’t so much as utter two coherent words, there was no mistaking the cold look in his eye that shattered Luke’s heart into two. He just didn’t know why his dad had turned like that. It was the two of them against the world normally. The two Musketeers. All for one and all that.
That first night sleeping in Dad’s house alone had been the worst night of his existence. Even losing his mum didn’t match it. He was so young when she passed, he just didn’t have the same bond that he did with the parent who had raised him single-handed. His mother was a photo in a frame, an abstract idea rather than a tangible person. He and his father had done just fine though. They were the ultimate team, always had been. It was why he’d stayed at home for so long. He was happy with his dad, and his dad lived for him.
When he’d turned his key in the lock of his childhood home, there was no life within. No buzz of the sport on the telly. No Dad shouting ‘that you, lad?’ like he always did. As though they had loads of visitors. It always made him chuckle, and he missed it now. He might never hear that action again. This family home had no family left in it now. Just memories and the settling dust.
Plodding up towards his dad’s office, he opened the door and got to work. His father’s care would need to be looked after, and Luke knew his dad had always been a saver. There were no money worries, but he wanted to check his dad’s policy, see what healthcare they could get covered without Dad’s nest egg being used. One look at the staircase in the hall told Luke that things would need to change around here too. His dad
