11
“Margo? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but…I do need your help. Really need it.” My heart sank even as I spoke. With Bane like this, how could getting involved right now do anything other than draw Jon closer to me? But Bane’s life was more important. “Will you please…come and speak to me?”
A moment’s silence. “All right.”
I spent the next couple of minutes quietly arranging all our spoons along the window ledge with a row of saucepans underneath, so I’d hear if Bane got near it again. When there was a quiet knock on the door I slipped out into the corridor. “Hi, Jon. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course I came, Margo. I’m here if you need me.”
“And Bane? Are you here if he needs you?”
“Stop talking to me about Bane!”
“Oh, he’s only your best friend; why would you care?”
“I know what he did to you, Margo.”
“Yeah? Y’know, I kind of noticed myself. Exactly how sorry does he have to be before you can forgive him?”
“Is he sorry? From what U says—”
“Is he sorry?” I exploded, then dropped my voice to an intense whisper. “Oh, no, not at all sorry; he’s trying to do himself in because he just feels mildly bothered!” At that I opened the door a crack to check…all okay…closed it again.
Jon’s expression had gone rather funny, kind of frozen. “What did you say?”
I stared at him. “You must know about that! Surely Kyle told you?”
“Told me what?” He looked very anxious now. “He burst in, all furious, told us Antonio said Bane had hit you, that’s all—”
“God forgive him, he didn’t tell you? Bane did hit me, I won’t deny it, but as soon as he realized what he’d done he ran right up to the roof and tried to throw himself off. Would have managed it, if I hadn’t shot him with Foxie’s nonLee. And since then…” My voice shook as I tried to keep hold of myself. Clearly other than Antonio and Kyle, only the Foxes knew that part of the story, and they had kept their mouths shut. “Bane won’t speak to me, he won’t eat, he won’t do anything…except try to do himself in if I turn my back for thirty seconds.” I peeped into the room again. All fine.
“And I’m terrified to let anyone know because they’ll take him and put him in the hospital and if the staff there are anything like you horrible lot, they won’t care and he’ll…he’ll manage it…” I clamped a hand over my mouth.
Jon’s blue-gray eyes were wide with dismay. He reached out, found my shoulders and drew me firmly in for a hug. “Margo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Oh, you poor thing, I’m so sorry! I thought he’d hit you, and you were just defending him even though…well, U came back earlier ever so worried and said Bane’s absolutely terrorizing you and you still won’t consider separation!”
“He said what?” Oh no! Unicorn’s odd reaction… Too late, I realised what he’d thought. “He totally misunderstood! And…then he went and communicated it all to Eduardo…oh no! No wonder Eduardo’s on my case!”
“Unicorn said you made him say he wouldn’t tell Eduardo. But he thought he’d managed to give Eduardo a heads-up anyway.”
“I noticed, the sneaky blighter.”
“Yeah. Look…I mean, Bane still did something awful, but you’re right, it sounds like he’s so sorry it’s…”
So sorry it’s destroying him.
“…well,” Jon finished awkwardly. “How can I help?”
“If I don’t go up to the hospital, Eduardo’s going to come here and see me, and I can’t let that happen. Will you just stay with Bane while I’m gone? Keep an…I mean, keep your ears open, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself?”
“Of course. But what’s so urgent about going to the hospital?”
“Apparently Lucas Everington has pretty much gone on hunger strike in protest at my disappearance.”
“That guy’s nuts.”
“He’s getting better. Or he was,” I added glumly.
“All right, well, I’ll stay with Bane.”
“Come on in, then.” I opened the door again, my eyes darting to Bane. Still okay. Letting out a breath, I walked across to the sofa, Jon following. “Bane? I’ve got to pop out for a minute but Jon’s come to visit.”
“Hi, Bane,” said Jon.
No response from Bane. Jon sat on the sofa beside him. “Go on, then, Margo, you go and tell the Major he’s being a naughty boy. We’ll just have a little chat about the stupid way Bane’s behaving.”
Good luck with that. I managed a cheerful, “I won’t be long, Bane. Bye, you two.”
Walking away down the passage was an awful lot harder than I expected. I wanted to turn and sprint home—it took all my willpower to go into the lift and press the button.
Nurse Poppy came running over to me as soon as I entered the hospital. “Margo! You’re here! Are you okay? Where have you b—” She broke off, her eyes searching my face. “What happened?”
“I fell over.” That was true, after all.
By Lucas’s door, Snail raised an eyebrow at this piece of sophistry, but Poppy greeted it with a look of sympathy and no sign of suspicion. Had the rumors not reached her? Was it possible that not everyone knew?
“Well, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “It wasn’t too bad the first couple of days; he just picked at his food, but since then he’s refused to eat anything. He’s all right with us nurses, but if anyone goes in there trying to do your job—well, he doesn’t need to speak to get the message across. Not a happy bunny.”
“So I hear. Well, if you’ve got a meal for him, I’ll take it in.”
Poppy ran her eyes up and down me in professional disapproval. “I’ll get a meal for you as well.” She bustled away.
I went to look through the window, trying to ignore the way Snail was peering at my face. The curtains were open, probably because, looking at the skinny form lying disconsolately on the bed, Lucas was feeling too tired and hungry to keep closing them. He’d the Office book tucked to his chest and he looked utterly miserable. Guilt wriggled inside me, but…how could I have left Bane; let people see my face?
Pretty soon I was slipping into the room, balancing a tray containing one nice cooked meal—pasta and sauce—and one almost-raw Lucas special. His head turned slightly, expression downright fierce, hand twitching as though to grab some piece of ammunition…then his eyes filled with relief.
“Hi, Lucas. I’m really sorry I haven’t been to see you for a while.” I put the tray down on the bedside table and pulled up the chair to the bed. “I’ve brought you some lunch…” But when he weakly pushed himself up into a sitting position—so weakly—my fragile calm snapped. “For pity’s sake, Lucas, do I really have to stand over you just to make you eat?” And…oh, Lord, no! I burst into tears.
His eyes went wide with horror, like his world was shaking on its foundations—the look of a small child who sees the unthinkable sight of a parent weeping.
Helpless at that moment to get a grip on myself, I just went on sobbing into my sleeve—he grabbed the fuchsia, offered it to me—I waved it away. His eyes darted around, then with a look of desperation on his face, he seized the cooked meal, dug the spoon in and, panting, began to eat. He ate and ate until it was all gone, flung the bowl away and sat staring at me hopefully.
For some reason, I wanted to laugh. Fortunately my tears were trailing off, and I was able to reward his momentous effort by getting hold of myself and wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m so sorry, I’m not really angry with you, it’s just…it’s been a really, really bad couple of weeks and… I can hardly think straight or…anything right now.”
He took my hand and pressed it between his, giving me a look of totally heartfelt sympathy. “I know,” he said simply.
Oh. A tiny taste of what it was like to be in his head? I put my other hand over his and pressed back. In a weird way, I think I’d almost missed him.
After a few moments, he freed one hand and lifted it, palm up, in his usual questioning gesture. What happened? As an afterthought, he pointed to my face and raised his palm up again. What happened to your face?
“It’s kind of the same thing. Bane lost his temper and hit me and…oh, don’t look like that, you can’t throw stones!” I said irritably, because his expression had gone positively murderous. I tapped my scarred forehead and he’d the grace—and the sanity—to look abashed. Then he gave me an enquiring look.
“Um, well, after he hit me, he tried to throw himself off the roof in remorse—it’s an eight-floor building—I managed to stop him, but to cut a long story short, he’s been trying to find another way to do it ever since, and I’ve been trying to prevent him. Which hasn’t left me much time for eating or sleeping or…well, let alone leaving the apartment!”
He pointed at me and raised his palm up again. How was I here today?
“Jon’s finally forgiven him and agreed to help. Turned out we’d had a bit of a misunderstanding.”
“So better now?”
“Yes, Margaret is feeling much better. I’m sorry about just now, I think it was partly the relief—making up with Jon, y’know.”
He stared at me solemnly for a while. Thinking about what I’d told him? Then he brightened, unzipped the Office book and held it out to me. Oh dear, I really wanted to get back to Bane, but…I had neglected Lucas terribly. I accepted the book and sat there trying to remember what day it was until he took it back and found the place himself.
“Oh, Margo!” Poppy stared at the tray in dismay, when I took it back to her. “He wouldn’t even eat for you?”
“Rather the opposite.” I smiled in spite of myself. “He ate the cooked one.”
“He what?” She gaped at me.
“Very keen to please me, poor thing.”
I raced home without seeing many people. Trying not to hold my breath, I unlocked the apartment door and went in. Bane and Jon still sat on the sofa—Bane had his head tilted back, fingers pinching his nose, other hand clutching a bloody tissue—despite which it looked like they’d been talking animatedly before I came in.
I shut the door and hurried forward. “Bane… Jon, did you hit him?”
Jon looked sheepish. “Um, yeah.”
“I deserve it.” Bane stuffed some tissue up each nostril so he could put his head forward.
I stared at him—he’d spoken—I was almost afraid to breathe…
“I didn’t hit you because of that, and you know it,” said Jon firmly. “I hit you because of what you’ve been doing to Margo since.”
“Well, if you’re right, I still deserve it,” said Bane in an undertone, but he sounded skeptical.
“Yes, you do. Margo, this big idiot is convinced you’re terrified of him, and the only reason you haven’t kicked him the heck out is because you’re too good a Believer to let him commit self-murder.”
“He thinks what?”
Bane flinched from my shriek.
Not a lot of space on the sofa so I flung myself half on top of him and seized two handfuls of his shirt. “You think what, Bane Verrall?”
“Um…” He seemed bewildered, shocked that Jon might in fact be right. “Yeah?”
My hand flew up to slap him—I stopped suddenly—with an effort I clenched it back in his shirt. No more hitting in this marriage—from either of us. “Bane, you are an idiot. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Did it sound like I was terrified of you?”
“But…when I tried to touch you, you drew away.”
“Because my face was swollen and I didn’t want you to be upset! Bane…how could you think I didn’t want you?”
Ever so shyly, he raised a hand to touch my hair, and I knew why. Because he’d been seeing the world through an impenetrable morass of guilt, drowning in it…
“I love you, Bane.” I maneuvered around the tissue to kiss his rather salty lips. “I love you, and I don’t ever want to lose you!”
“Well, on that score,” said Jon, “it may interest you to know he’s not actually all that desperate to reach the next world.”
“What?” My heart lurched in timorous hope. “He could’ve fooled me! Bane?”
“Um. Well, I was, right after, I really was. After I’d had a day or two to calm down, the, er, enthusiasm wore off rather—I just know…knew…whichever…I had to…free you.”
“Free me?” I snarled.
“That’s when I hit him,” said Jon.
“Free me!” I spluttered. “Bane, you fool, I don’t want to be free of you! I want us to live to a hundred and die in bed, together.”
“Do you really mean it?” The uncertainty in his voice was like a knife thrust to my heart.
I slipped my arms around him and kissed him—and kissed him and kissed him. When his arms rose to encircle me, I was dimly aware of someone getting up from the sofa and leaving the apartment but I was too busy trying to communicate to Bane how much he meant to me to pay any attention.
Eventually, after a very great deal of communicating, something amazing happened—his hands slid under my blouse. I mirrored him and slowly his kisses grew more confident, more urgent…we struggled off the sofa and when he grew uncertain again I towed him into the bedroom and then…
Praise the Lord!
1 month, 6 days
Well, I think we’ve covered organ donations backwards and forwards by now. We’ll be moving on to a new topic tomorrow—and you might want to get your hankies ready.
Margaret Verrall—blog post, ‘The Impatient Gardener’
The sun shone on my face. I opened my eyes. Why hadn’t I closed the curtains? I turned to check on Bane and the sheet slid away…what the…! I was stark naked! Memory rushed back, and I sat up, hugging the sheet to my chest. Was I awake? Please let me be awake?
I felt awake—Bane slept there beside me, his chest rising and falling steadily. We’d been asleep for hours and hours.
I touched my stomach gently. All well. Did I dare leave Bane while I cooked some breakfast? I chewed my lip for a minute, then slipped into the bathroom to wash and dress. Came back and sat on the bed again. Bane was still out like a light. Not been sleeping any better than me—or I’d kept waking him up by moving to check on him.
I headed to the kitchen.
The food was almost ready to serve when I popped back to check on Bane yet again and saw him roll over sleepily. Hurrying to the bed, I climbed onto the covers and slipped my arms around him, stroking his dark locks. “Good morning, husband,” I said softly.
His eyes opened, he remained still for a moment—brain having a rapid catch-up session? At last, timidly, “Good morning, wife.”
My heart lifted as though a million tons had been taken from it. No relapse. “I’ve made a really nice breakfast, Bane. Will you come and eat with me?”
He pushed himself up into a sitting position; rubbed his eyelids for a moment. “Would you…like me to?”
Not totally better, then. I gave him a quick kiss, careful not to knock his nose, which wasn’t broken but was definitely sore. “I would like it very much.”
“Okay. I suppose…I’d better get dressed.”
“Most people do, y’know.”
He got out of bed and started hunting for clothes. I watched him anxiously. How badly had all this knocked his confidence, already hit so hard by his blindness? Strange to hear him so…hesitant.
He ate, though, praise the Lord—in fact, when I kept refilling it, he cleared his plate three times. Yes! Might not even matter if Eduardo came around now. Seeing Pope Cornelius suddenly seemed much less urgent—now that he might finally be available!
After breakfast I sat beside Bane on the sofa and snuggled up until he—tentatively—put his arm around me. “You…don’t have to do your blog?”
“It’ll keep. I think I’m entitled to a couple of hours off to celebrate my husband’s return to the world of the living.”
He winced slightly—my dry tone hadn’t quite disguised the slight tremor in my voice. “Do you know the other reason why I knew I had to…you know…”
“There was another reason as well?”
“I thought I’d lost you—thought you couldn’t love me anymore—so I knew there was no point trying to go on—”
I cut off the last syllable of that by pressing my lips to his. “You haven’t lost me,” I told him intently. “You know that now, right? How could you think I could stop loving you just like that?”
“It was a pretty huge that.”
“The number of times I’ve thumped you or smacked your face, Bane. Did you suddenly stop loving me?”
“That’s different.”
“Oh, how?”
“Well, no offense, you’ve got girly fists.”
“You’ve gone ouch often enough.”
“Mostly for dramatic effect. You’ve never even left a mark.”
“So how bad the action is depends on whether there’s a mark?”
“Don’t start twisting my words around!” A welcome flash of spirit. “It’s not the same and you know it!”
“Well, you’ll be glad to hear I am totally resolved not to ever whack you again, so we can call it quits and forget it.”
“Forget it? Just like that?”
“Obsessing over it won’t help.” Seeing someone might, but I don’t want to mention that until you’re feeling a bit better.
“No…” But he looked anxious and uncertain again. So I cuddled up to him—huh, my rib was all better, when had that happened?—and tried to kiss the expression away. For several hours.
Eventually there was a knock at the door. Probably Jon. Well, I did find myself in the most unexpected position of needing to thank him for punching my husband.
Dragging myself away from Bane, I took out the nonLee, slipped off the safety catch and went to the door. Hated having to do it this way, sent a prickle of fear down my spine every time. I looked through the peephole…
Kyle.
I sighed. Opened my mouth to tell him to go away, then shut it again. He was just worried. I suppose it was natural for him to care more about me than Bane. Okay, so I was furious with him for withholding information from Jon and the others, as well, but…perhaps we should just sit down and talk about it. Look what had happened when I spoke to Jon properly, after all.
“Fine,” I said, opening the door. “Come in.”