‘Yeah, what?’
But when she looks out she finds Mr Gerber, the surgeon from the clinic, standing on the doorstep. The last person she was expecting. He’s wearing something strange. Like a tunic made out of denim, but there’s a bottle of champagne in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face.
‘Ruth?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry about what?’
‘I shouldn’t be here.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not ethical. If I wore a hat,’ he gives a rueful laugh, ‘I’d have it in my hands now.’
She opens the door a crack more, puzzled. He looks odd out here in the sunlight. He’s got very fine bones, a tiny nose and a thatch of wiry hair shot with grey threads, which he keeps running his fingers through nervously.
‘When I asked if you lived alone, Ruth, it wasn’t my place to do that. That’s the clinic staff’s job.’
‘Eh?’
He bites his lip and glances up and down the road. Looks back at her again and something dawns on her. She thinks about the Mercedes and the Aston Martins she saw in the staff car park at the clinic that morning. She thinks about sitting down at the pub, waiting for someone to speak to her. And then she thinks about the way she’d arranged her legs sitting opposite him earlier on.
‘My first name is Georges,’ he says.
‘Hello, Georges.’
‘Can I come in? I won’t stay long. Not if you don’t want me to.’
She opens the door, lets him in and he walks down the corridor, looking from left to right. She follows, stopping for a moment in front of the hall mirror to dig out clumps of mascara from the corners of her eyes. Quickly she puts the wad of gum she was chewing in an ashtray, cups her hands round her mouth and checks her breath.
When she gets to the living room he’s standing in the middle of the carpet.
‘Nice place.’
She adjusts the strap on her bra and makes sure her breasts are sitting up high. Noticeable. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘That’d be nice. If it’s not too much trouble. What’re you having?’
‘I’m…’ She indicates the drink sitting on the bar. ‘Rum and Coke. But I can get you something else.’
‘Rum and Coke.’ He smiles. He really isn’t all that bad-looking. Just needs a bit of grooming. ‘Sounds perfect.’
He sits politely on the sofa, his feet together, and watches her mix the drink. When she turns to hand him the glass, she finds he’s holding out the champagne in both hands. ‘I think this needs to be chilled.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Veuve Clicquot. Stevie loves Veuve. She puts the glass on the table next to him and takes the bottle. It is a little warm. She carries it into the kitchen and puts it in the freezer, packs a bag of ice round it. When she comes back into the room Georges is standing next to the bar, looking at the photos. In the middle there is a picture of a dolphin in Greece. She stands shoulder to shoulder with him.
‘Lovely animal.’ She picks up her drink from the bar and takes a sip. ‘Isn’t it?’
Gerber turns and looks steadily at her. ‘I can think of something lovelier.’
She wants to giggle, but stops herself short. Georges isn’t the sort to appreciate giggling. He’s serious. Classy. So she smiles and points at another photo.
‘My ex-husband. And my son. He lives near by. Drops in from time to time. But otherwise I’m on my own. Like I said.’
‘I’m sorry I quizzed you like that. I’m sorry about all of today. You made me nervous. That’s all.’ He sits down on the sofa. ‘I made a mess of the whole thing.’
‘No, you didn’t. You were lovely, just lovely.’
He gestures at the wall. ‘Tell me about the dolphins, then. You’re quite a sailor, I take it.’
Gratified by his interest she sits on the recliner and arranges her skirt nicely. She starts to talk about the animals, the dolphins in Greece, the guillemots she saw flying over a harbour near Sitges once. He lets her lead the conversation. Asks her lots of questions: what’s it like living on a boat? Is she happier on land? Do the cats prefer it here? He supposes it’s nice that she can keep so many animals. He really is quite lovely, she decides. Appearances can be deceptive.
‘You’ve finished your drink.’
She looks at the glass in her hand and sees he’s right – it’s empty. They’ve been talking a long time. His drink is still untouched on the table next to him. He twists in the chair and looks towards the kitchen. ‘What about that champagne? Do you think it’s cold yet?’
She gets up and goes into the kitchen. She takes the champagne out of the freezer and pulls down two crystal bowl glasses Stevie stole from a restaurant in Sardinia. While she’s uncorking it she has a moment of dizziness. She puts the bottle down and leans on the work surface to steady herself. This isn’t like her. A few rums can’t put her on her back usually. She scoops a little water straight out of the tap into her mouth, dries her mouth on the tea-towel and continues with the champagne. It’s open and both glasses are poured when she feels strange again. She puts down the bottle noisily and within seconds Gerber is at her side.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Fine.’ She smiles. ‘Feel great. Just a little-’
She puts out a hand and he takes her under the arms, then leads her through into the living room. Helps her into the armchair.
‘Do you feel faint?’
‘Feel strange.’
‘I know why. When I took your blood pressure earlier, I thought then it needed to come down.’
‘My blood… What did you say?’
‘Don’t move. I’ve got some tablets for it.’
‘Tablets? My blood pressure’s always OK. The doctor says it’s good for my age.’
She looks down. He has taken a small brown bottle out of a pocket and is shaking white tablets into his palm. The pills seem huge and very white in his hand.
‘What are they?’
‘They’ll bring the pressure down. Make you feel better straight away.’ He nods to the computer. ‘What’s the password?’
‘My password?’ She puts a finger to her head. The room seems smaller than she remembers it. ‘Why do you want to…?’
‘I need to check a dosage. What’s the password?’
‘Stevie21.’
‘And how much do you weigh?’
‘How much do I…? I don’t know.’
He goes to the computer and she hears him tapping keys. Her head’s too heavy to turn and look. She rests it on her hand and imagines for a moment that it’s made of stone, like a statue’s, and will crack if she moves it. Gerber comes back and drops loads of tablets into her hand.
‘So many?’
‘They’re homeopathic.’
Homeopathic. She’s heard of that. She puts them into her mouth and takes the glass of Coke he’s holding out. The tablets are bitter and scratch her throat but she swallows them in two gulps.
‘I think you need to go for a drive. Get some fresh air. Where’s your car?’
‘Outside,’ she mutters. Her mouth seems full of dust. ‘Outside in the…’ She tilts her head back. Tries to focus on him. ‘Over there next to the patio.’
She tries to push herself to her feet but she can’t. And instead of it worrying her, she finds she couldn’t care less. Her feet are a long, long way away. Her legs are just fuzzy poles of light. She looks at her shoes and thinks: Beautiful, beautiful shoes. Red and shiny like rubies. Thank you, God, for lovely shoes.
‘Your keys.’
Gerber is next to her. Shaking her. She lifts her heavy eyes.
‘Where are your keys?’
‘I think I need something to eat.’
‘No, you don’t. Just tell me where your keys are.’
‘In the hallway. Hanging up.’
‘The front-door keys too?’
‘Yes. But why do you need my door keys?’
Instead of an answer all she hears is the distant sound of bird-song. And when she tries to see where he is she realizes he’s left the room. She drops back into the chair and her eyes roll upwards into the lids. She sees constellations of light and electricity. She sees dolphins jumping and ruby red shoes. ‘There’s no place like home,’ she murmurs, smiling. ‘No place like home.’ She floats to the stars and Stevie’s there next to her, holding her hand.