When the clock struck midnight, they were lying wrapped in each other’s arms in Flo’s bed. Was this too soon? It probably was, but it didn’t feel too soon. This had been one of the most magical evenings of her life.
‘What are you thinking?’ said Zander.
‘I’m thinking I’m really glad I had my legs waxed.’
He laughed. ‘Most girls wouldn’t say that.’
‘I know. It’s why I’m still single.’
Still laughing, Zander pulled her to him and kissed her on the nose. ‘They wouldn’t say that either.’
At that moment they heard a peremptory scratching at the door, followed by a series of miaows.
‘It’s Jeremy’s bedtime,’ said Flo. ‘He won’t give up until we let him in.’
She watched as Zander got out of bed, crossed the room and opened the door. Nice body.
Jeremy stalked past him, jumped up on to the end of the bed and settled himself down, facing Flo and radiating disapproval.
‘Looks like our time’s up,’ Zander observed as he climbed back in.
Jeremy blinked and slowly swished his tail.
Flo said, ‘It’s like having Ann Widdecombe sitting on your bed, making sure there’s no hanky-panky going on.’
‘He’s spent his whole life living with my grandmother. He doesn’t know what hanky-panky is.’
Beneath the duvet, Flo jiggled her foot and gave the cat a playful nudge. ‘Come on, Jeremy, cheer up, no need to be so grumpy.’
Jeremy’s baleful gaze was unwavering. He clearly had no intention of forgiving her.
‘We’ll work something out,’ said Zander.
‘It may involve moving into the spare room.’
‘Well we can’t go to my flat, that’s for sure. If it’s a toss-up between having to cope with Jeremy’s disapproval or Lena’s, I know which I’d prefer.’
‘Are you going to tell her about . . . us?’ Oh help, was that horrifically presumptuous? Was there even an us? Who knew, maybe now that he’d effortlessly seduced her, she wouldn’t see him for dust.
‘Don’t look like that. I’m not going anywhere.’ Reading her mind, Zander lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. ‘This is just the beginning. But we both know what Lena’s like. When she finds out, she isn’t going to make things easy. For now, I’d rather keep it just between us. Trust me, it’ll be more relaxed all round.’
Flo nodded and said fervently, ‘I think so too.’
But inside her chest, happiness was bubbling up like a garden fountain. Look, it’s me and Zander, we’re a couple . . . we’re an us!
Chapter 22
When making yourself a bacon sandwich really took it out of you, you knew you were in a bad way.
Although Hallie was already aware of that. Last week she’d gone into hospital for yet another routine check-up and had seen her figures. Full blood count, oxygen saturation and lung function tests, X-rays and IV assessments . . . basically, all the results were worse.
At least it hadn’t come as a surprise. When you lived with cystic fibrosis, you knew you were never going to wake up in the morning miraculously cured.
But to see the numbers and understand the degree to which you’d deteriorated wasn’t a cheery experience. Her exercise tolerance was markedly reduced. Her sats were 90 per cent. Extra physio had been less effective than before. The insides of her lungs felt spiky and sore, and the stealthy, depressing inevitability of it all caused her to be ambushed, sometimes, by great waves of sadness.
Don’t be a whiner, she told herself. Concentrate on the good things in life, even if there don’t seem to be too many of them left.
Luckily, a bacon sandwich definitely counted as a good thing. Disconnecting herself from the oxygen supply in the kitchen, Hallie carried the plate through to the living room, reconnected her nasal specs to the oxygen supply in there and sat down on the sofa to watch the rest of Starter for 10.
The heat from the crispy bacon had melted the butter, giving the fresh white bread just the right amount of squidginess. Oh yes, this was a world-class sandwich. As she picked it up and prepared to take that heavenly first bite, the doorbell rang.
Oh please. Did people like to spy on her with binoculars and do it on purpose?
Just ignore the door and eat the sandwich.
But the moment would be spoiled, Hallie knew; she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if all she was doing was waiting for the bell to ring a second time.
Ooh, and it might be the postman with those new ankle boots she’d ordered from ASOS.
She put the sandwich down, disconnected the oxygen tubing once more and got slowly to her feet.
The doorbell rang again.