stepped aside for me to enter. I followed him
tentatively through the hallway and was shocked by what I saw. The place was a
complete state: piles of dirty plates crowded the sink, socks and shirts
scattered everywhere. He clearly wasn’t taking very good care of himself.
I took a seat in the living room.
‘Do you fancy a coffee or something?’
‘Er, yes. Actually no, I’m fine.’ The thought of
coffee poured into one of those scummy mugs from the kitchen wasn’t too
enticing.
David coughed loudly, his whole face contorted with
discomfort.
‘You’re really not well, are you darling? Have you
taken anything for it? Seen a doctor?’
‘No, no, I’m fine Madeline, really. In a couple of
days I’ll be right as rain.’
I stood up, put my hand on his arm. ‘Do you want me
to pop to the chemist and get you something? You can’t not take anything,
David. At this time of year, a cold could turn into pneumonia, and you don’t
want that.’ I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but hoped I
sounded convincing.
David beamed at me through his muggy haze. ‘You’re
so good to me, Madeline. But really, you don’t have to.’
I held up my hands to shush him and led him out of
the living room into his bedroom, which was even more chaotic: piles of clothes
strewn unceremoniously on the floor. Pulling back the duvet covers, I gently
eased him towards his bed. ‘You need to rest darling. Look, tuck yourself in,
give me your keys and I’ll get everything sorted.’
He reluctantly obliged. God, men could be so
difficult sometimes!
‘Do you need any money for the chemist?’ he called
as I headed out the door.
‘No, don’t worry. I’ve got money. Just relax, David.
I’ll be back in a minute.’
The chemist was fifteen minutes of a walk from our
flats. That was one of the downsides of Blackwall - shops in either direction
were a bit of a mission. God help you if you ran out of milk in the middle of
the night.
When I got to Wellworth’s, I made straight for the
pharmacy at the back. Without a GP’s prescription, I knew I would only be able
to get David something fairly tame in terms of medication. I’d have to put on
my doctor’s hat and make my own diagnosis. In the end, I opted for a packet of
throat lozenges and a bottle of a sickly sweet cough mixture. Then I went to
the corner shop and purchased some vegetables and spices. I had decided to go
the whole hog and make David some soup.
When I got back to the flat, he was sitting up in
bed and reading a newspaper. He looked pleased to see me. I felt rather like
his wife coming home from a shopping trip.
‘Right,’ I said, laying his keys and medicines on
the dresser, ‘I’ve got you some cough mixture and some other stuff. I hope it
helps.’
‘Thank you, Madeline. You’re very sweet.’
I blushed, turned to go. ‘You’re not leaving yet,
are you?’ His voice had an air of desperation. This warmed me.
‘No, I was just going to the kitchen to make you
some food.’
‘Oh God, don’t go in there, please. It’s in such a
state. I haven’t been on top of things recently, sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, David. I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Now
just you rest and concentrate on getting better. I’ve got everything under
control.’
He smiled appreciatively, and returned to his paper.
I went into the kitchen, washed up the dishes, wiped
down the draining board and mopped the floor. Then I opened the cupboard, took
down a large saucepan and, after cleaning it thoroughly, proceeded to make the
vegetable soup. My aim was to make two day’s worth, enough for David not to
have to cook for a while. As I fried the cubed vegetables over a low heat, I
thought about how cosy we were, how right it felt being together like this. Not
since Mum had died, had I been able to fuss over someone like this. For a
moment, I actually dared to imagine a life of domestic bliss with David.
‘That smells marvellous, Madeline. You’re really
spoiling
tentatively through the hallway and was shocked by what I saw. The place was a
complete state: piles of dirty plates crowded the sink, socks and shirts
scattered everywhere. He clearly wasn’t taking very good care of himself.
I took a seat in the living room.
‘Do you fancy a coffee or something?’
‘Er, yes. Actually no, I’m fine.’ The thought of
coffee poured into one of those scummy mugs from the kitchen wasn’t too
enticing.
David coughed loudly, his whole face contorted with
discomfort.
‘You’re really not well, are you darling? Have you
taken anything for it? Seen a doctor?’
‘No, no, I’m fine Madeline, really. In a couple of
days I’ll be right as rain.’
I stood up, put my hand on his arm. ‘Do you want me
to pop to the chemist and get you something? You can’t not take anything,
David. At this time of year, a cold could turn into pneumonia, and you don’t
want that.’ I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but hoped I
sounded convincing.
David beamed at me through his muggy haze. ‘You’re
so good to me, Madeline. But really, you don’t have to.’
I held up my hands to shush him and led him out of
the living room into his bedroom, which was even more chaotic: piles of clothes
strewn unceremoniously on the floor. Pulling back the duvet covers, I gently
eased him towards his bed. ‘You need to rest darling. Look, tuck yourself in,
give me your keys and I’ll get everything sorted.’
He reluctantly obliged. God, men could be so
difficult sometimes!
‘Do you need any money for the chemist?’ he called
as I headed out the door.
‘No, don’t worry. I’ve got money. Just relax, David.
I’ll be back in a minute.’
The chemist was fifteen minutes of a walk from our
flats. That was one of the downsides of Blackwall - shops in either direction
were a bit of a mission. God help you if you ran out of milk in the middle of
the night.
When I got to Wellworth’s, I made straight for the
pharmacy at the back. Without a GP’s prescription, I knew I would only be able
to get David something fairly tame in terms of medication. I’d have to put on
my doctor’s hat and make my own diagnosis. In the end, I opted for a packet of
throat lozenges and a bottle of a sickly sweet cough mixture. Then I went to
the corner shop and purchased some vegetables and spices. I had decided to go
the whole hog and make David some soup.
When I got back to the flat, he was sitting up in
bed and reading a newspaper. He looked pleased to see me. I felt rather like
his wife coming home from a shopping trip.
‘Right,’ I said, laying his keys and medicines on
the dresser, ‘I’ve got you some cough mixture and some other stuff. I hope it
helps.’
‘Thank you, Madeline. You’re very sweet.’
I blushed, turned to go. ‘You’re not leaving yet,
are you?’ His voice had an air of desperation. This warmed me.
‘No, I was just going to the kitchen to make you
some food.’
‘Oh God, don’t go in there, please. It’s in such a
state. I haven’t been on top of things recently, sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, David. I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Now
just you rest and concentrate on getting better. I’ve got everything under
control.’
He smiled appreciatively, and returned to his paper.
I went into the kitchen, washed up the dishes, wiped
down the draining board and mopped the floor. Then I opened the cupboard, took
down a large saucepan and, after cleaning it thoroughly, proceeded to make the
vegetable soup. My aim was to make two day’s worth, enough for David not to
have to cook for a while. As I fried the cubed vegetables over a low heat, I
thought about how cosy we were, how right it felt being together like this. Not
since Mum had died, had I been able to fuss over someone like this. For a
moment, I actually dared to imagine a life of domestic bliss with David.
‘That smells marvellous, Madeline. You’re really
spoiling
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