Short and to the point, but Hallie gazed at her phone and pictured him saying the words. Where was he right now? Still in bed? Downstairs in his kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil? Was Christina there with him?
Whichever, it didn’t matter. It was just nice of him to have sent the text. Feeling warm and cared for and unbelievably lucky, she pressed Reply and typed: Thanks, everything’s great. Can’t wait for it to happen. Today’s the first day of the rest of my life.
She paused, smiling, imagining the worried look on his face. Then added: Really, I’m fine. Xxx
All the other texts she’d sent this morning had ended with three kisses. It wasn’t until she’d pressed Send that Hallie realised she’d done it again.
Whoops. Oh well, maybe another time it would be more embarrassing. But today, frankly, she had other, more pressing issues on her mind.
Chapter 49
Flo made her way along Princess Victoria Street in Clifton, moving sideways to avoid an overweight man with a whippet on a red lead. Passing the florist’s shop, she waved and mouthed hello to the friendly girl who ran it. The mingled scents from the galvanized-silver buckets of flowers reminded her of something she really didn’t need reminding of, seeing as it would be imprinted on her brain for ever. This time two weeks ago, she’d been standing outside the crematorium after Zander’s funeral, gazing at the rows of wreaths and cellophane-wrapped bouquets, while fretful spots of rain had fallen and grey clouds had scudded by overhead.
Today, in contrast, the temperature was up in the eighties, an unrelenting sun was beating down and Flo’s hair was sticking to the back of her neck. She’d finished her shift at Nairn House and now needed to pay a visit to the supermarket. She’d initially thought she might take a few weeks off, but it hadn’t worked out that way at all. Sitting at home with nothing to occupy her mind had turned out to be akin to solitary confinement in prison. Keeping busy was the answer, and going back to work had been a lifesaver, especially since – as Margot had so wisely pointed out – the majority of the residents of Nairn House knew just what she was going through. Nobody minded if she had a bit of a cry. They understood that she wasn’t going to be as cheerful as usual. They also kept offering her biscuits she didn’t have the appetite to eat.
Anyway, supermarket. At least there’d be air-conditioning to look forward to. Flo took a couple of deep breaths and paused to pull the small bottle of water out of her bag. She uncapped it and took a swallow. Eurgh, warm. Even more eurgh, shoals of little black dots were starting to cloud her vision and a woolly sensation had begun to invade her brain.
Oh God, don’t say she was going to faint; this hadn’t happened since she was a teenager during an overlong morning assembly at school. Panicking, she ducked into relatively empty Waterloo Street and leaned against the pink-stuccoed outer wall of an antiques shop. But the black dots were expanding, the buzzing in her ears was growing louder and the bones in her legs appeared to be turning to Play-Doh . . .
The next moment, opening her eyes, she was flat out on the cobblestones with the contents of her handbag scattered around her and the now-empty plastic water bottle lying in the gutter. Someone was holding her head and simultaneously reaching for her turquoise purse.
‘Oh please don’t take it . . .’ Flo tried to sit up and stop them; the money wasn’t important, but the purse had been a present from Zander. ‘Please.’
‘I’m not stealing your purse, I’m putting it back. Have you ever fainted before?’
‘At school, when I was thirteen.’ Staying where she was and woozily recovering her bearings, Flo watched as the man collected up the rest of her belongings and returned them to her bag. His other hand was supporting the back of her head, keeping it off the stony ground. It took a few seconds before the penny dropped. ‘Oh, it’s you. Hello.’
She might not know his name, Flo realised, but he was no stranger. Since the fateful tomato soup incident back in January, she’d seen him a few more times, though he no longer sat outside the pub on Princess Victoria Street.
‘Hi. I’d ask how you’re feeling, but that would probably be a silly question.’
‘Well, I’ve had better days.’ She managed a brief smile in return. ‘Actually, not so bad now.’
A woman from the antiques shop came out with a glass of cold water, and Flo drank it down gratefully in one go.
‘Where do you live?’ said the man.
‘Caledonia Place.’
‘OK, can you stand? Let me help you home.’
Flo took a few deep breaths. Once she was on her feet and fairly sure she wasn’t about to collapse again, they made their way carefully around the corner.