‘Louisa?’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Leonard Gopnik.’
It took me two seconds to register his name. I made to speak, then stood very still, glancing around me stupidly as if he could be somewhere nearby.
‘Mr Gopnik.’
‘I got your email.’
‘Right.’ I put the food container on the chair.
‘It was an interesting read. I was pretty surprised when you turned down my job offer. As was Nathan. You seemed suited to it.’
‘It’s like I said in my email. I did want it, Mr Gopnik, but I … well … things came up.’
‘So is this girl doing okay now?’
‘Lily. Yes. She’s in school. She’s happy. She’s with her family. Her new family. It was just a period of … adjustment.’
‘You took that very seriously.’
‘I’m not the kind of person who can just leave someone behind.’
There was a long silence. I turned away from Sam’s room and gazed out of the window at the car park, watching as an oversized 4x4 tried and failed to negotiate its way into a too-small parking space. Forwards and backwards. I could see it wasn’t going to fit.
‘So here’s the thing, Louisa. It’s not working out with our new employee. She’s not happy. For whatever reason she and my wife are not really comfortable with each other. By mutual agreement she’s leaving at the end of the month. Which leaves me with a problem.’
I listened.
‘I would like to offer you the job. But I don’t like upheaval, especially when it involves people close to me. So I guess I’m calling because I’m trying to get a clear picture of what it is you actually want.’
‘Oh, I did really want it. But I –’
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around, and there was Sam, leaning against the wall. ‘I – er –’
‘You got another position?’
‘I got a promotion.’
‘Is it a position you want to stay in?’
Sam was watching my face.
‘N-not necessarily. But –’
‘But obviously you have to weigh it all up. Okay. Well, I imagine that I’ve probably caught you by surprise with this call. But on the back of what you wrote me, if you’re genuinely still interested I’d like to offer you the job. Same terms, to start as soon as possible. That’s as long as you’re sure that it’s something you really want. Do you think you can let me know within forty-eight hours?’
‘Yes. Yes, Mr Gopnik. Thank you. Thank you for calling.’
I heard him click off. I looked up at Sam. He was wearing a hospital dressing gown over his too-short hospital nightshirt. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
‘You’re up. You should be in bed.’
‘I saw you through the window.’
‘One ill-timed breeze and those nurses are going to be talking about you till Christmas.’
‘Was that the New York guy?’
I felt, oddly, busted. I put my phone in my pocket and reached for the Tupperware container. ‘The position came up again.’ I watched his gaze slide briefly away from me. ‘But it’s … I’ve only just got you back. So I’m going to say no. Look, do you think you can manage some pasta after your epic pie? I know you’re probably full, but it’s so rare that I manage to cook something that’s actually edible.’
‘No.’
‘It’s not that bad. You could at least try –’
‘Not the pasta. The job.’
We stared at each other. He ran his hand through his hair, glancing down the corridor. ‘You need to do this, Lou. You know it and I know it. You have to take it.’
‘I tried to leave home before, and I just got even more messed up.’
‘Because it was too soon. You were running away. This is different.’
I gazed up at him. I hated myself for realizing what I wanted to do. And I hated him for knowing it. We stood in the hospital corridor in silence. And then I saw he was rapidly losing colour from his face. ‘You need to lie down.’
He didn’t fight me. I took his arm and we made our way back to his bed. He winced as he lay back carefully on the pillows. I waited until I saw colour return to his face, then lay down beside him and took his hand.
‘I feel like we just sorted it all out. You and me.’ I laid my head against his shoulder, feeling my throat constrict.
‘We did.’
‘I don’t want to be with anyone else, Sam.’
‘Pfft. Like that was ever in doubt.’
‘But long-distance relationships rarely survive.’
‘So we are in a relationship?’
I started to protest and he smiled. ‘I’m kidding. Some. Some don’t survive. I’m guessing some do, though. I guess it depends how much both sides want to try.’
His big arm looped around my neck and pulled me to him. I realised I was crying. He wiped at my tears gently with his thumb. ‘Lou, I don’t know what will happen. Nobody ever does. You can set out one morning and step in front of a motorbike and your whole life can change. You can go to work on a routine job and get shot by a teenager who thinks that’s what it takes to be a man.’
‘You can fall off a tall building.’
‘You can. Or you can go to visit a bloke wearing a nightie in a hospital bed and get the best job offer you can imagine. That’s life. We don’t know what will happen. Which is why we have to take our chances while we can. And … I think this might be yours.’
I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear him, not wanting to acknowledge the truth in what he was saying. I wiped at my eyes with the heels of my hands. He handed me a tissue and waited while I wiped the black smears from my face.
‘Panda-eyes suit you.’
‘I think I might be a bit in love with you.’
‘I bet you say that to all the men in intensive care.’
I turned over and kissed him. When I opened my eyes again he was watching me.
‘I’ll give it a go, if you will,’ he said.
It took a moment for the lump in my throat to subside enough for me to be able to speak. ‘I don’t know, Sam.’
‘You don’t know what?’
‘Life is short, right? We both know that. Well, what if you’re my chance? What if you are the thing that’s actually going to make me happiest?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When people say autumn is their favourite time of year, I think it’s days like this that they mean: a dawn mist, burning off to a crisp clear light; piles of leaves blown into corners; the agreeably musty smell of gently mouldering greenery. Some say you don’t really notice the seasons in the city, that the endless grey buildings and the microclimate caused by traffic fumes mean there is never a huge difference; there is only inside and out, wet or dry. But on the roof it was clear. It wasn’t just in the huge expanse of sky but in Lily’s tomato plants, which had pushed out swollen red fruit for weeks, the hanging strawberry pots providing an intermittent array of occasional sweet treats. The flowers budded, bloomed and browned, the fresh green growth of early summer giving way to twiggy stalks and space where foliage had been. Up on the roof you could already detect the faintest hint in the breeze of the oncoming winter. An aeroplane was leaving a vapour trail across the sky and I noted that the streetlights were still on from the night before.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Leonard Gopnik.’
It took me two seconds to register his name. I made to speak, then stood very still, glancing around me stupidly as if he could be somewhere nearby.
‘Mr Gopnik.’
‘I got your email.’
‘Right.’ I put the food container on the chair.
‘It was an interesting read. I was pretty surprised when you turned down my job offer. As was Nathan. You seemed suited to it.’
‘It’s like I said in my email. I did want it, Mr Gopnik, but I … well … things came up.’
‘So is this girl doing okay now?’
‘Lily. Yes. She’s in school. She’s happy. She’s with her family. Her new family. It was just a period of … adjustment.’
‘You took that very seriously.’
‘I’m not the kind of person who can just leave someone behind.’
There was a long silence. I turned away from Sam’s room and gazed out of the window at the car park, watching as an oversized 4x4 tried and failed to negotiate its way into a too-small parking space. Forwards and backwards. I could see it wasn’t going to fit.
‘So here’s the thing, Louisa. It’s not working out with our new employee. She’s not happy. For whatever reason she and my wife are not really comfortable with each other. By mutual agreement she’s leaving at the end of the month. Which leaves me with a problem.’
I listened.
‘I would like to offer you the job. But I don’t like upheaval, especially when it involves people close to me. So I guess I’m calling because I’m trying to get a clear picture of what it is you actually want.’
‘Oh, I did really want it. But I –’
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around, and there was Sam, leaning against the wall. ‘I – er –’
‘You got another position?’
‘I got a promotion.’
‘Is it a position you want to stay in?’
Sam was watching my face.
‘N-not necessarily. But –’
‘But obviously you have to weigh it all up. Okay. Well, I imagine that I’ve probably caught you by surprise with this call. But on the back of what you wrote me, if you’re genuinely still interested I’d like to offer you the job. Same terms, to start as soon as possible. That’s as long as you’re sure that it’s something you really want. Do you think you can let me know within forty-eight hours?’
‘Yes. Yes, Mr Gopnik. Thank you. Thank you for calling.’
I heard him click off. I looked up at Sam. He was wearing a hospital dressing gown over his too-short hospital nightshirt. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
‘You’re up. You should be in bed.’
‘I saw you through the window.’
‘One ill-timed breeze and those nurses are going to be talking about you till Christmas.’
‘Was that the New York guy?’
I felt, oddly, busted. I put my phone in my pocket and reached for the Tupperware container. ‘The position came up again.’ I watched his gaze slide briefly away from me. ‘But it’s … I’ve only just got you back. So I’m going to say no. Look, do you think you can manage some pasta after your epic pie? I know you’re probably full, but it’s so rare that I manage to cook something that’s actually edible.’
‘No.’
‘It’s not that bad. You could at least try –’
‘Not the pasta. The job.’
We stared at each other. He ran his hand through his hair, glancing down the corridor. ‘You need to do this, Lou. You know it and I know it. You have to take it.’
‘I tried to leave home before, and I just got even more messed up.’
‘Because it was too soon. You were running away. This is different.’
I gazed up at him. I hated myself for realizing what I wanted to do. And I hated him for knowing it. We stood in the hospital corridor in silence. And then I saw he was rapidly losing colour from his face. ‘You need to lie down.’
He didn’t fight me. I took his arm and we made our way back to his bed. He winced as he lay back carefully on the pillows. I waited until I saw colour return to his face, then lay down beside him and took his hand.
‘I feel like we just sorted it all out. You and me.’ I laid my head against his shoulder, feeling my throat constrict.
‘We did.’
‘I don’t want to be with anyone else, Sam.’
‘Pfft. Like that was ever in doubt.’
‘But long-distance relationships rarely survive.’
‘So we are in a relationship?’
I started to protest and he smiled. ‘I’m kidding. Some. Some don’t survive. I’m guessing some do, though. I guess it depends how much both sides want to try.’
His big arm looped around my neck and pulled me to him. I realised I was crying. He wiped at my tears gently with his thumb. ‘Lou, I don’t know what will happen. Nobody ever does. You can set out one morning and step in front of a motorbike and your whole life can change. You can go to work on a routine job and get shot by a teenager who thinks that’s what it takes to be a man.’
‘You can fall off a tall building.’
‘You can. Or you can go to visit a bloke wearing a nightie in a hospital bed and get the best job offer you can imagine. That’s life. We don’t know what will happen. Which is why we have to take our chances while we can. And … I think this might be yours.’
I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear him, not wanting to acknowledge the truth in what he was saying. I wiped at my eyes with the heels of my hands. He handed me a tissue and waited while I wiped the black smears from my face.
‘Panda-eyes suit you.’
‘I think I might be a bit in love with you.’
‘I bet you say that to all the men in intensive care.’
I turned over and kissed him. When I opened my eyes again he was watching me.
‘I’ll give it a go, if you will,’ he said.
It took a moment for the lump in my throat to subside enough for me to be able to speak. ‘I don’t know, Sam.’
‘You don’t know what?’
‘Life is short, right? We both know that. Well, what if you’re my chance? What if you are the thing that’s actually going to make me happiest?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When people say autumn is their favourite time of year, I think it’s days like this that they mean: a dawn mist, burning off to a crisp clear light; piles of leaves blown into corners; the agreeably musty smell of gently mouldering greenery. Some say you don’t really notice the seasons in the city, that the endless grey buildings and the microclimate caused by traffic fumes mean there is never a huge difference; there is only inside and out, wet or dry. But on the roof it was clear. It wasn’t just in the huge expanse of sky but in Lily’s tomato plants, which had pushed out swollen red fruit for weeks, the hanging strawberry pots providing an intermittent array of occasional sweet treats. The flowers budded, bloomed and browned, the fresh green growth of early summer giving way to twiggy stalks and space where foliage had been. Up on the roof you could already detect the faintest hint in the breeze of the oncoming winter. An aeroplane was leaving a vapour trail across the sky and I noted that the streetlights were still on from the night before.
