Page 67 of The Girlfriend

L AURA HEARD THE MAIL FALL ONTO THE DOORMAT.

AS USUAL, SHE approached it with some trepidation, but it all looked fairly ordinary.

A collection of statements buffered with some junk brochures selling cashmere sweaters and overseas investments.

She flicked through it and stopped at an expensive cream envelope, thick with the paper it held inside.

The doorbell rang before she had a chance to open it and she found herself peering through the hall window, aware she was behaving like a timid old lady.

It was the builders, come to repair the leaking window.

She made them a cup of tea while they assured her they would have the glass out by the end of the day, and hopefully back in the next.

Once they were out in the garden, she took her post to the quiet of the living room. She opened the thick envelope first.

Dear Mrs. Cavendish,

I am writing on behalf of my client, Howard Cavendish.

He feels that a notable amount of time has passed since he first discussed the issue of divorce with you, but so far has not received any correspondence detailing your request to start proceedings.

He is still very acceptable to you instigating proceedings rather than him, but you must make this known within fourteen days or I will be bound to file a petition to the courts.

In order to facilitate the process, I recommend that, if you haven’t already, you get independent legal advice.

I look forward to hearing from you in due course.

Yours,

Alastair Lloyd-Edwards

Laura dropped the letter on the coffee table.

Did it matter? Who cared who divorced whom?

The relationship was over, and no one seemed to notice or think that this might be the important thing.

Or maybe it wasn’t, not for Howard because of Marianne.

Maybe their marriage hadn’t mattered to him for years.

She was suddenly exhausted and knew she wouldn’t bother to reply.

She hadn’t been to work much either, vaguely aware this was feeding into Cherry’s ambitions for her.

However, since the cancelation of her drama, she’d lost all energy.

She wasn’t sleeping well at night; her skin was pale and there were shadows under her eyes.

She was afraid to go out. Food was delivered by the supermarket.

When the post crashed on the mat, it startled her and she approached it like a wary animal, afraid of what it might be.

And then there was Cherry’s nocturnal visit.

Laura wondered how long she’d stood there, what she’d been looking for, what she was planning.

When Izzy had called first thing to check in, she’d been so angry about it she’d threatened to call the police, there and then, but Laura knew she’d receive a similar response to the one she’d already had.

They couldn’t do anything until Cherry made her first move.

She realized she was waiting. Waiting for something to happen, and it was slowly strangling her.

She had to do something. She had to see Daniel. Laura grabbed her bag and jacket and headed out.

* * *

She approached the double doors with the large elevated sign: CARDIOLOGY . A young black nurse was sitting behind the desk as she walked in, apprehensive now that she’d actually made it.

“Can I help you?” asked the nurse.

“I’m here to see Dr. Cavendish. ”

“He’s in surgery.”

“Oh, right. When . . . when might it be over?”

The nurse glanced at the clock. “Hard to say. Another two hours, at least.”

Her face fell.

“Anything I can do?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll come back then.”

Laura made a swift exit before the woman asked any more questions.

She had a dread of hospitals since Daniel’s accident, but she resigned herself to the wait.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly, and she stretched out a coffee for forty-five minutes, then suddenly thought: What if Cherry meets him after his shifts?

What if she comes here? Her stomach constricted and she jumped up and nervously wandered around the charity shop full of knitted garments by well-meaning patrons, then the gift shop full of cuddly toys and metallic balloons on sticks, and then finally the minimarket.

At about half past three, she went back up to the ward.

“Is Dr. Cavendish free yet?” she asked the same nurse, who looked up and nodded down the corridor.

He was deep in conversation with someone and didn’t see her at first, so she got a chance to look at him unchecked. It was the first time she’d seen him in his uniform and her heart swelled with pride. Then he looked up.

She didn’t know if he was pleased to see her or not. At first, she thought she caught a glimpse of relief, gladness, but it turned into a frown before she could be sure. He walked over.

“Mum, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“I’m at work.”

“Yes, I know, but I can’t come to the flat, can I?” Laura tried to stem her anxiety. “I . . . I left you a message yesterday. I’ve left lots.”

She saw a flash of guilt. He pulled her away from the nurses’ station, conscious of gossip and alert eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . there’s been a lot going on.” He paused. “Wendy got in touch.”

Laura looked at him, shocked. “What did she say? ”

A nurse called his name. Daniel turned. “Coming. . . I can’t talk here.”

“I can wait until your break.”

“That’s five hours away and I don’t always get one.”

Seeing her crestfallen face, he relented. “I’ll come to the house.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“After your shift?”

“It’s going to be late.”

“I don’t care. But phone first,” she said quickly, knowing it would be dark when he came knocking on the door.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

He took her by the arm and led her toward the double swing doors. She stopped and turned to him, pleading. “Please?”

He was surprised by the emotion in her voice. “Okay. Now go home and get some rest. You look exhausted.”

Laura left, and on her way home, she found herself shaking.

She was so thankful, so grateful, that she was on speaking terms with her son again; it brought home to her how much she’d missed him.

And Wendy had been in touch. She was apprehensive about what she’d said, but Daniel didn’t seem angry with her anymore, so perhaps some good had come out of her disastrous visit.

The problem of Cherry was still very much present, but she blocked that out for now and concentrated on small mercies.

Daniel was willing to meet up. Maybe he’d start to believe her.