Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [78]
Two weeks, Ed.
It was like he could hear what she was thinking.
“And I know it’s been two weeks. Christ—it’s all so ridiculous…I feel like such an idiot. But my flatmates were away—do you remember?—they went skiing, I told you—so no one’s been at home, and no one has keys, of course, because that would be too bloody sensible, and you never told me who you lived with, not their surnames, and I didn’t know your stepfather’s last name, either, because, for God’s sake, we only just met…and I had to wait, I had to wait until my stupid flatmates got back, which they did last night, and they didn’t answer the phone at the flat until lunchtime because they were so tired—there were these huge delays at Geneva—so they slept late, and, and I’ve only just got hold of them, and got them to get my phone, and find your number…”
He was breathless. No one could make up a story that implausible.
“God, Ed. How’s your dad?”
She heard him sigh with relief at not being more closely interrogated.
“He’s better. Not much, but some. He’s been in intensive care. They’ve moved him to high dependency. They think he’s going to be okay.”
“What happened?”
“He only had a mild heart attack, but he was driving and on his own. He lost control of the car and plowed into a tree. Near home. Knocked himself out. Hurt himself pretty badly. They didn’t find him for a couple of hours. No one was home, so no one missed him….”
“Poor man.”
The line was silent for a moment.
Amanda thought about Donald. His heart attack had killed him instantly. A massive coronary. All over in minutes, before an ambulance had even been called.
Ed spoke again, and now his voice was calmer and slower. “I’m so glad I’ve got through to you. I’ve been going mad down here, thinking about you and thinking what you must be thinking…”
“I thought, I thought I’d scared you off….”
“Not at all. I knew you’d think that. God—how ridiculous that this happened. Disastrous timing. I’m so sorry.”
“That doesn’t matter now.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Are you coming back?”
“I can’t, right now. My mum has shocked us all by going to pieces. Completely. She needs me here, for a bit longer at least.”
“Oh.”
“Can you come?”
“I’m working.”
“You could take the train. I’d meet you.”
“I’ve got a few days to run at this company I’m temping at.”
“And you can’t wheedle out of it?”
“I need the money. I’m…”
Suddenly the ticket money didn’t seem quite as important.
Ed’s voice was quiet. He sounded stung. “God, I’m sorry. Stupid. Selfish. I didn’t mean to sound desperate.”
“I quite liked you sounding desperate.”
“I’d love to see you, Amanda.”
“I’ll come.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll tell them I’ve got the flu. Lot of it going about, I hear. Time of year.” She sniffed theatrically and smiled. The woman in the line behind her raised an accusatory eyebrow. Obviously someone in human resources. She didn’t care. Nosy old bag.
“You’re a star. An absolute star. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She didn’t remember the last time someone sounded quite so pleased that he was going to see her. It felt nice. “How are things, you know…with you?” he asked.
“That’ll keep.”
TRAIN STATIONS COULD BE TERRIBLY ROMANTIC PLACES. BLACK-AND-WHITE filmmakers knew that, didn’t they? Like airports, only less high tech. When people on films didn’t catch the plane they were supposed to be on, it always bothered her. All that wasted money. And what about their suitcases? Planes can’t take off with unclaimed suitcases in the hold, can they? All too complicated. To miss a train you were supposed to be on, you simply climbed down the steps into the waiting arms of the man you loved, and the steam enveloped you as you embraced. She’d stood on platforms in Mumbai and in Paris and in South Africa, watching people part and reunite. None of those exotic settings was quite stacking