Chapter Seven
Pull The Other One
One Month Later – A Wednesday in June
I FLICKED THROUGH SOME magazines in the waiting room, noticing how nervous everyone seemed. I was lucky, I’d never been nervous about coming to the dentist. But then I’d had so much work done, all thanks to overcrowding as a result of my genetics, that visits were old hat to me. After you’d had your gums sliced open to remove four wisdom teeth and four molars in your teens, and your face had ballooned up like a chipmunk carrying his supply of food for hibernation, having a tooth pulled or filled was as easy as melting butter on a hot day.
‘Charlie Faulkner for Mr. Wankowksi,’ called the dental assistant. I put the magazine down and followed her through to Mr. Wankowski’s room, tittering to myself. It seemed I was the only person who found his name funny and wondered when I’d be able to hear or say it without laughing.
‘Good morning, Charlie,’ he greeted with a smile and a handshake. He was always friendly, but for some reason, I didn’t have as much confidence in him as I had his predecessor. I’d only met Mr. Wankowski twice before, and for something as invasive as potential root canal treatment, I’d have preferred someone whose skills I was more familiar with. However, when it was a choice between being stuck with him or this agonising tooth pain, it was no contest. ‘So, this is an emergency appointment because you have bad tooth pain?’
‘Bad is an understatement. Right now, I’d pay you to pull it out,’ I told him as I settled back into his chair and slid on the protective glasses. ‘The pain was so bad last night I was crying, and I even thought about taking a pair of pliers to it.’
‘Well, I’ve just studied your X-rays and they show a nerve infection, so I’m not surprised you’re in pain. In about five minutes, it will be a distant memory,’ he told me in a reassuring tone.
The relief as my face went numb from the injection was almost as good as having a relaxing massage and facial at a spa. Even the noise of the drill whirring away, and the slight smell of burning as it ground the inside of my tooth away, didn’t faze me.
‘Wuddy hell,’ I gasped as the hygienist managed to suck the end of my tongue into the saliva extracting machine.
‘Oops, sorry,’ she grimaced, quickly turning it off and freeing me as I flashed her a disapproving scowl. How hard was it to angle that damn thing into the corner of my mouth? I’d never had my tongue vacuumed up before. ‘How about you take a rinse?’
I sat up, then picked up the bright pink water and went to take a sip, but with my lips numb, I missed my mouth and poured most of it all over the waterproof apron I was wearing. Hastily blotting myself dry, I tried again, holding a finger in my lips and using it as a guide for the rinse. This time, I managed to get it in and sloshed it about, but made another mess as I tried to spit into the bowl and instead dribbled it all down my chin. Having a bruised and numb tongue and numb lips didn’t exactly make it easy to empty a mouthful of water into a tiny bowl, and I succeeded in spraying the next mouthful all over the assistant. I mumbled a “Sorry” at her, though inside I was rejoicing. I’d never come out of the dentist with a tongue-related injury, until she’d let loose with that super-sonic vacuum cleaner in my mouth.
I gave her a “don’t mess up the suction this time” warning look as Mr. Wankowski went back in and she followed. I closed my eyes as he got to work trying to clear out the pulp, muttering that he couldn’t find the third root. How hard could it be? He had X-rays, and it wasn’t like it was a large search area. He was poking and prodding like an archaeologist on a dig, and I howled as he slipped and stabbed his excavation tool into my lip.
‘Oh, sorry Charlie. My bad. Have another rinse, will you?’
My bad? My bad?! Thank God he wasn’t performing an eyelift and had just mistakenly gouged my eye out, followed by a “my bad” comment.
Half an hour later, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself with my newly split lip and swollen cheek. I also had possible whiplash from his overly enthusiastic jerking of my head as he’d tried to pull off the metal band he’d put around my tooth while he put the temporary filling in, not to mention another incident of the nurse getting my tongue stuck to the suction tube.
I wasn’t feeling in any fit state to eat, let alone cook, but I was out of fresh chicken for Mrs. Tibbles. If I stood any chance of sleeping off a restless few nights and a sore mouth that was beginning to thaw, Mrs. Tibbles needed chicken. It was like cat heroin to her. After a diced chicken dinner, she was loving and placid. Without it, she was likely to show her indignation by trying to suffocate me as she sat on my head while I tried to sleep in bed, not to mention the face pawing, with her claws out.
I called in at the shop on my way past.
‘Afternoon, Mrs. Vickers,’ I mumbled as I headed inside to see her sitting at the counter reading.
‘Hello, lovely day,’ she called.
‘It is,’ I agreed. The British weather had started picking up a few weeks before and I’d finally been able to let Tibbs out in the back garden. After a few tentative explorations that lasted less than a minute each and had her flying in with her fur on end at the slightest noise, she’d got brave and was driving me insane, howling all of the time to go out. I was going to have to get Heath over to fit a cat flap for her. ‘Mrs. Vickers, have you sold out of chicken?’ I asked, my voice completely distorted due to my dental-related injuries.
‘What’s that you want to thicken?’ she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.
‘Chicken, not thicken.’
‘Well, if you really want to thicken something that badly, we have gelatine somewhere by the baking supplies.’
‘Chicken,’ I repeated slowly, flapping my arms to try and emphasise the point.
‘Oh dear, I think we’re out of stock of deodorant. Reg, Reg,’ she shouted, ‘are we out of deodorant?’
‘Yes, love,’ he called back over the noise of the TV in the background.
‘I don’t need deodorant. I want chicken,’ I almost shouted, very slowly.
‘Well, there’s no good getting cross with me because you have a body odour problem that I can’t fix,’ she scolded. ‘And I already told you we have gelatine if you want to thicken something.’
‘Oh my God,’ I groaned. I pulled my phone out of my handbag and keyed in the words “I want chicken,” complete with an appropriate emoji.
‘You want chicken? Well, why didn’t you say?’
‘I did.’
‘No, you said you wanted to thicken something. Well, the chicken should be in the chiller.’
‘It’s not,’ I replied, shaking my head.
‘You have snot, too? Well, stand back, I don’t want to catch your germs. You’ll find the tissues next to the deodorant.’
‘You just said you didn’t have any deodorant, which I don’t need anyway. And I also don’t need tissues as I haven’t got a cold. I want chicken and there’s no bloody chicken in the chiller.’ I was starting to lose my patience. My face was starting to crackle back to life and I just wanted to grab a couple of painkillers and head to bed to try and make up for the last couple of nights tossing and turning.
‘There’s no thickening the killer? Who’s a killer? Reg, I said, Reg. There’s been a murder in Dilbury,’ she hollered, her eyes wide with surprise.
‘A murder?’ he shouted, still not moving from his place in front of the television.
‘No,’ I said firmly as Mrs. Vickers said, ‘Yes.’
‘There’s no killer,’ I groaned. My God, it wasn’t easy coming in here at the best of times.
‘Well, why did you say there was? Honestly, you scared the living daylights out of me. A killer, here in Dilbury? Gave me quite a turn, it did.’
‘There’s no killer. I’m trying to tell you that there’s no chicken. In. The. Chiller.’
‘I have no idea what you’re saying, dear. This is the trouble with all you foreigners moving over here, no one can understand you. Maybe you ought to try speaking English.’
‘Jesus. I’m going to kill you and stuff you in the chiller in a minute,’ I grumbled as I keyed out my predicament and showed it to her. I had visions of me abandoning my usual writing genre to do a factual crime thriller, where the shopkeeper was carved up, then shrink-wrapped and sold as prime steak to the unsuspecting villagers.
‘Well, why didn’t you say there’s no chicken in the chiller. Reg, why’s there no chicken in the chiller? Reg?’
‘Sold out, love. It’s delivery day tomorrow,’ he called.
‘Poor Mrs. Tibbles,’ I sighed. She wasn’t going to be happy. Cooked diced chicken was her favourite meal. Plus, if I wanted some sleep, it meant I’d have to shut her out of the bedroom, which would really put her nose out of joint.
‘You want some vegetables? Are we out of vegetables as well?’ Mrs. Vickers asked.
‘I give up,’ I huffed, pointing at the village newsletter instead. I had a feeling if I walked out of here without gelatine, tissues, deodorant, or vegetables, my name would be mud, so best to buy something to placate her.
Two Days Later – Friday
‘Well, how did you manage to break a tooth in half?’ Mr. Wankowski asked as I settled back into his chair.
‘I didn’t do anything. The night you’d done the root canal, I was eating some ice cream and most of the tooth slid out,’ I grumbled. To make matters worse, it was the tooth right next to the one he’d worked on. I was convinced his brutal treatment of it had damaged the other one.
‘Well, it’s beyond repair and there’s not a lot of tooth left visible for me to grip. I’m afraid we need to cut your gum open to pull it out. While I’ve got you anaesthetised, I may as well remove that temporary filling and finish your root canal treatment, if you can bear to have your mouth open that long.’
‘Go for it,’ I sighed. It was a good job I was selling enough books to cover the cost of all of this. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was lying on a Caribbean beach in the sun as he set to work.
Even with my vivid imagination, I wasn’t able to zone out. First, there was the drilling, then the ramming of the metal band of torture, followed by lots of forceful jabs as he muttered about still not being able to find the third root, then a triumphant shout as he did and slammed the reamer down inside it. He packed in the filling, then began the same process as last time of trying to remove the band. By the time he was done, I already had face and neck ache, and quite possibly lock jaw, and he still needed to pull the remains of the other tooth.
‘Try and relax,’ the tongue sucker soothed as she held my shoulders down while Mr. W jerked my head up and down as he tried to pull the tooth out.
‘Stubborn little sucker,’ he huffed. His assistant stuck her arm on my forehead to try and hold me still as he used his pliers to yank without so much as even a wiggle. ‘Ok, I need to try this from another angle, keep her held down,’ he ordered.
Seconds later, without giving me any chance to protest, he’d mounted the chair and was straddling me. Now here was a man in desperate need of Mrs. Vickers’ deodorant. I was gagging and choking as he continued to try and work the tooth loose with his privates far too close to my face for my liking. I was on the verge of tears when he almost fell off the chair as he finally yanked the bloody remains of my tooth out. I might not have been able to feel my face, but my neck and forehead were killing me as he stitched my gum closed and told me to rinse out the blood in my mouth, which I managed to dribble all over my face again.
‘Oops,’ I heard him mutter.
‘Oops?’ I mumbled. Those were words you never wanted to hear from a doctor or dentist who’d just performed a procedure on you.
‘Ermmm, I’m missing a bit of metal off my reamer.’
‘What?’ I spluttered, sitting back up to face him, a load of napkins pressed against my mouth to try and catch the combined drool and blood leaking from my mouth.
He grimaced and held up the reamer he’d used to scoop out the nerve from that last root, then held up a brand new one for me to see how much of the metal was missing. It was significant.
‘Did you swallow anything?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied, shaking my head.
‘Hmmm, it must still be in your tooth then, and I’ve already filled it. I can either remove the filling and try and get it out, or we can just leave it be. It shouldn’t cause you any problems.’
‘I just want to go home,’ I whined, not sure I was in a fit state to be making any decisions right then. I’d never felt so battered and bruised.
I slowly made my way to the car, feeling sick and light headed. I clutched the wad of napkins to my mouth, noticing the strange looks I was getting as I passed people. Once I was sitting in my car, I looked at myself and started to cry. My face was so swollen and already bruising, I had dried blood smeared all over my one cheek and my chin, and blood splatter all over the neckline of my cream top. And to add insult to injury, I had a big red button mark across my forehead from the dental assistant’s shirt cuff pressing down on me. If ever I’d wanted a boyfriend that I could ring to say “Come and get me, I need you,” it was right then. Sometimes being single and self-sufficient sucked.
The sound of my mobile ringing woke me up, and I peeled my face off the pillow and swiped to answer it.
‘Hello,’ I mewled.
‘Charlie? Are you ok?’
‘Pizzaman?’ I mumbled, not sure if I was hearing things.
‘Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be ringing you, client confidentiality and all, but I’m calling while I’m at work, so technically I haven’t stolen your private number. It’s just it’s Friday night, and you always have pizza on a Friday night, and I’m about to clock off.’
‘I do?’ I asked, flopping back down onto the pillow as I held the phone to the side of my face that didn’t look like I’d been in a boxing ring and lost. Did I really order pizza every Friday? So much for my healthy eating plan, I was obviously failing miserably.
‘Yes,’ he chuckled.
‘Every Friday?’ I asked, still not convinced.
‘Except the last Friday of the month, and sometimes on a Wednesday too. I was worried as you haven’t placed your order. I thought I’d better check if you wanted one before I left.’
‘That’s so nice of you, but I can’t eat. Ever again,’ I moaned dramatically. ‘I’ve been mouth-butchered by Mr. Wanky and the tongue sucker.’
‘You’ve what?’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s a long story involving a brutal dentist and his sidekick. I can barely open my mouth it’s so swollen. I’m in agony and I feel awful.’
‘Who’s looking after you?’ he asked, sounding adorably concerned.
‘No one. Unless you count Mrs. Tibbles, who pops her head in to moan at me from time to time. I’m starving, but I can’t even chew. I tried a cookie earlier, but I can’t fit it through the gap in my lips. My jaw’s too sore to open any wider.’
‘You can’t not eat, Charlie. Can’t your friends come and cook something for you?’
‘Abbie’s in New York, Georgie’s on a date with Weston, and I don’t want to bother Daphne. I’ll be fine. They’ll find my shrivelled body in a week or two, if Tibbs hasn’t eaten the evidence.’
‘Always with a sense of humour,’ he chuckled.
‘Laugh or cry, and I’m very close to crying right now,’ I admitted, my bottom lip trembling. ‘Thanks for checking on me, Kitt. That was really sweet of you. I’ll be ordering my usual as soon as I gain function of my face again.’
‘Ok, well … just take care, Charlie. I hope you’re feeling better soon.’
‘Me too,’ I huffed.
We ended the call and I pulled the duvet back over my head, trying to ignore the throbbing jaw ache and the grumbling of my ravenous stomach. Instead I willed myself to dream of a sexy Dr. Fitton tending to me, wearing just a pair of tightly fitted boxers.
‘Who the hell is that?’ I grumbled, as a loud knock at the door disturbed the rather vivid fantasy I was playing out in my head. ‘Tibbs!’ I scolded as she batted my nose a little too forcefully when my face appeared from under the duvet and I found her sitting on my pillow, waiting for me.
I grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on as I stumbled over to the bedroom door. If it was sales people, they were about to get a mouthful. The knocking continued as I gingerly made my way downstairs and cracked open the front door and peeked out.
‘Kitt?’ I blinked at him a few times, totally confused. ‘Am I delirious? Did I order a pizza without knowing it?’
‘No, no pizza. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone and hungry. I wanted to make sure you were ok. Can I come in?’
‘I … I guess, but I’m a state,’ I warned him, grimacing when I took a quick look at myself in the hall mirror. My hair was sticking on end and matted from tossing around trying to get comfortable in bed, and I still had dried blood on my face, which was so swollen and bruised.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped as I pulled the door open.
‘I warned you.’ I tried to smile, but winced and gently palmed my cheek.
‘Well, if you’re ok to have some company for a while, I brought you painkillers and some chicken soup.’ He waved a bag at me as he stood on the doorstep, and I felt my eyes fill up with tears, totally touched at his thoughtfulness.
‘That’s so sweet of you,’ I said quietly as I waved him in, suddenly acutely aware that I was naked under a fairly short t-shirt. ‘I’d better go and get changed.’
‘No objections on my part if you don’t,’ he teased with a wink. He stepped in and immediately toed off his army boots. ‘How about I go and heat up some soup for you while you get changed?’
‘But … you’re already late,’ I warned as I checked my watch. ‘What about your mum?’
‘I asked Vicky to stay on with her a bit longer so I could come check in on you. I had a feeling if I didn’t, you’d starve to death or die of dehydration from crying yourself to sleep.’
‘Kitt, you didn’t need to do that.’
‘That’s what friends do, right? And you said we were friends now,’ he reminded me, wincing as he took in my face properly. ‘Do you have any peas in the freezer?’
‘I think I might. Everyone has an old pack of peas in the freezer, don’t they? So, you’re going to cook me soup with a side serving of them?’
‘No,’ he laughed with a shake of his head. ‘The peas are to try and help reduce the swelling. Go on, go and get changed and I’ll rummage for a saucepan and stuff in your kitchen, if that’s ok?’
‘Sure, thank you.’ I gave his arm a grateful squeeze.
I left him in my kitchen and headed back up to pull on some knickers and a pair of my comfy sweatpants. I brushed my hair and then wrapped a cardigan around myself as I shivered, belting it tightly. I could hear him rummaging around downstairs, humming to himself. It was weird to hear anyone using my kitchen, let alone a man. By the time I’d made it down, he’d already laid out a tray with a bowl and spoon and a glass of water.
‘Come here,’ he ordered, beckoning me over to the sink. I did as I was told, too tired and grumpy to even ask why. As I reached him, he gently moved my hair away from the carnage that was my face and swept some damp, but warm, kitchen towel across it. I winced and he grimaced as he held my chin with his other hand and carried on wiping. ‘Sorry, just trying to clean up this dried blood. The dentist seriously did this to you? You look awful.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You know what I meant. You look better already with that mess off your face, except you look pale and tired. Here, I put some painkillers next to the water. Why don’t you take those and go and sit in your lounge while I heat up your soup.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered gratefully, doing as I was told. It had been a long time since I’d felt so rough, even longer since someone had taken care of me. It was a nice feeling not to have to fend for myself for once. Mrs. Tibbles stayed to supervise the newcomer in her kitchen while I went and turned up the heating. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, hugging a cushion to my stomach to comfort myself.
‘Here you are,’ Kitt smiled as he came through carrying the tray, the smell of the chicken soup making my stomach growl loudly. I was starving, I hadn’t eaten anything all day. He chuckled and handed the tray over. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’
‘Help yourself to a drink,’ I offered, balancing the tray on the cushion on my lap. ‘There’s tea or coffee in the canisters by the kettle, or water, soda, or beer in the fridge.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if that’s ok?’
‘Of course it is, the least I can do after you came and cooked for me.’ I blew on my soup to cool it down.
‘Hardly cooking, opening a tin and heating it up,’ he laughed. ‘But thanks.’
He returned a while later with his drink, as I slowly took tiny mouthfuls of the delicious soup, keeping the hot liquid on the opposite side of my battered face and gum.
‘Good?’ he asked as he sat next to me.
‘Mmmm,’ I nodded.
‘Well, I put another couple of tins in your cupboard. After what you said on the phone, I figured you might not feel like chewing for a few days.’
‘Thank you, I’ll sort you some money before you go. Talk to me, as I’m not really up for conversation. Tell me how things are going at work and at home,’ I suggested as I continued to slurp in a most unladylike fashion.
It was soothing to hear his melodious voice as he filled me in on his week so far. Even Tibbs, who usually treated visitors to her home with disdain, came strutting in to join us. In an uncharacteristic display of friendliness towards a stranger, she jumped onto Kitt’s lap and kneaded him, purring as he stroked her with one hand, his other stretched behind me on the back of the sofa while he told me more about his mum.
I set my tray down on the coffee table when I was done and tucked my legs up under me as I sat sideways on the sofa to look at him as he talked. He spoke about his mum with obvious warmth and love in his tone. There was no hint that he begrudged how much she impacted on his life, no sense of anger at how everything revolved around her while his needs were put to one side. He really was incredible. I did my best to listen, but the painkillers were kicking in and with a bellyful of nice hot soup and his soft tone lulling me, I felt myself starting to get drowsy.
A loud snort startled me and I suddenly jerked, snapping my eyes open as I realised that awful noise had been me.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kitt,’ I gasped as I quickly bolted upright. It was bad enough I’d just nodded off when he was talking to me, but I’d slid forwards and had been nestled under his arm with my head on his chest. I quickly reached out to try and wipe an unattractive streak of drool from his t-shirt, completely mortified, but he just laughed.
‘Come on, it’s time I left and you went to bed. I’m so boring, you fell asleep on me,’ he chuckled as he bravely scooped up Tibbs from his lap, stood up, and set her down in the warm spot he’d vacated on the sofa.
‘I’m sorry. You’re not boring, not at all. You know I love talking to you, but I’m so exhausted. I haven’t slept well for days,’ I said, stifling a yawn, partly not wanting to embarrass him, but partly terrified of hurting my face. ‘I’ve drooled on your t-shirt too.’
‘That’s ok, it will come out in the wash. Besides, it’s not like I wear my best clothes to work anyway.’
‘All the same, it’s really rude of me when you went to the trouble of coming over to take care of me. I really appreciate it.’ My legs gave out on me as I stood. I was actually beyond exhausted. I had a feeling I could sleep for days.
‘Ok, you’re not climbing the stairs like that,’ he scolded with a frown. Before I could protest, he’d swept my feet off the floor and lifted me up into his arms. ‘Tell me where I’m going,’ he ordered as he strode out of the lounge and made a start upstairs.
‘First door on the left,’ I squeaked, not sure if I was embarrassed or on the verge of swooning to have a man handle me like that. No one had ever swooped me up like that, the way I’d written about so often. It was so … manly and hot! And he made it seem so effortless, even with my curves. ‘Aren’t I heavy?’
‘Light as a feather,’ he grinned down at me. ‘I’m going to get you into bed, then sort your face out.’
‘Oh hello, that sounded a bit rude.’
‘Charlie,’ he laughed as he shook his head. ‘Always with the humour and double entendres. I meant I’m going to look for something cold to hold on your cheek for a while, then I’ll leave you to have a good night’s sleep.’
I gave him a half-smile, making sure not to move the bad side of my face. He was making me hungry again. I could smell pizza on him, as well as that scent of the ocean he always seemed to wear. I studied his deep green eyes. They reminded me of Dr. Fitton’s, except Kitt’s didn’t have gold flecks. They were a really deep green that resembled the luminescent sheen of pure emeralds. As he carried me through my bedroom towards my unmade rumpled bed, I decided that he had really kind eyes. He was kind. How many guys would have come to look after me like this without expecting something in return? Why oh why couldn’t I feel that chemistry I so often wrote about with Kitt? He gently set me down on the bed with a promise to return, then strode out. I waited until I heard him jog down the stairs before I pulled off my sweatpants and cardigan and lay down, pulling the duvet up to my chin as I stifled another yawn.
I was already falling asleep when he came in carrying a tray. He set a glass of water on the bedside table with some more pills, which he told me to take as soon as I woke up, then handed me a hot water bottle to cuddle. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed a sandwich bag full of frozen peas on my swollen cheek.
‘There, how does that feel?’
‘Really nice,’ I mumbled.
‘Are you going to be ok on your own? If you don’t mind me using your number, I can ring you in the morning to see how you are.’
‘I’ll be fine now, and it would be nice to hear from you tomorrow, you know, just in case Mrs. Tibbles is chewing on my flesh as she didn’t get her fresh diced chicken dinner.’
‘She has expensive tastes,’ he grinned, running a hand over my hair, over and over, making me even sleepier. It was so nice to have someone look after me.
‘Hmmm,’ I agreed, fighting my eyes closing.
‘I’m going to leave you now. You have my number in your recent calls, so call me if you need me, it doesn’t matter what time, ok?’
‘You’re so nice, Kitt. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you,’ I mumbled.
‘Sweet dreams, Charlie,’ he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.
‘Hmmm,’ I agreed, pretty sure I was going to as I gave in and let my eyes close.
The Next Day – Saturday
I spent the day pottering around and snoozing, too tired and sore to do anything else. I looked like I’d been in a horrific accident. I managed to have some soggy cereal for breakfast, and heated up more chicken soup for lunch without incident. I’d finally had Heath over a few weeks ago to put in a new glass hob for me, that glowed bright red to tell me which one was on. I still had areas where the ridges of my fingertips were missing from when I’d burnt them, which could be handy if I ever decided to kill off Mrs. Vickers, as the police wouldn’t be able to trace me without fingerprints.
I decided to light a fire and snuggle down on the sofa for the night to watch some movies. I had one can of chicken soup left to have for dinner, with two slices of bread that I could soak in it, then I was going to have to venture out to do some shopping tomorrow. Not least for Mrs. Tibbles, who was most unimpressed not to have had her weekend treats and be relegated to cheap, shop-bought cat food pouches.
At least she was happy that she could come and go when she wanted, as Heath had also put a cat flap in the utility door, which worked off Tibbs’ microchip. It did confuse her, though, when I locked it overnight to make sure she wasn’t out in the dark. She persisted in bashing her head against it for a good five minutes to test whether it would magically open like it normally did. She seemed to have a heightened instinct for hunting prey at dawn and dusk, so that was one good reason to keep her in. I’d soon spotted a pattern in the amount of mice and other furry critters I’d had to chase around the house to rescue and set free again once the sun was going down or rising. It wasn’t like she brought me headless prey. She carried them in alive and dropped them at my feet with a “look at the lovely gift I’ve brought you, human” look on her face. I really hadn’t fancied waking up to find various woodland animals on the pillow next to my face, so the cat flap was locked, much to her chagrin.
I scooped up my phone when I heard it ping to find I had a text from an unknown number.
Hi Charlie, it’s Kitt. How are you feeling today? I’ve booked Vicky to come an hour earlier so I can pop by on my way to work to check in on you, if that’s ok? Please say if you’re not up for company, or if I’m crowding you.
I smiled to myself as I read his message. How could he think he was crowding me? Next to Daphne, Abbie, and Georgie, he was my closest friend since I’d moved here.
It would be lovely to see you. I’ll put the kettle on. And don’t worry, I know not to touch that to check it’s boiled!
You know I was worried for a moment, he replied with a winking face emoji. See you in a while.
I debated going upstairs to get changed and put a bit of makeup on to make myself look more presentable, but decided against it. It was only Kitt. He was used to seeing me in my sweats and a t-shirt, bare faced. Now, if Dr. Fitton was on his way, that would be a whole other ball game. I’d have been dashing upstairs to slip into some sexy lingerie under my red silk robe and doing my face and hair. I sighed as I thought of him. My crush hadn’t faded at all. If anything, it had only grown. The less I saw of him, the more I wanted him.
‘Hey,’ I greeted when I answered the door to Kitt a while later.
‘Hey,’ he smiled back, then winced as he saw the state of my face. ‘You look worse than yesterday, if that’s even possible.’
‘I know,’ I agreed, gesturing for him to come inside. ‘And I have serious tongue ache, too.’
‘Do I want to know why?’ he asked, setting down a carrier bag which clunked heavily on the oak floor as he toed off his boots.
‘I can’t stop poking at the hole where my tooth was,’ I huffed, pushing the door shut behind him. ‘It’s like a sickness. The more I poke, the more my tongue aches and there’s this nasty-tasting stuff in there and the stitches are hanging down too, but I just can’t seem to stop myself.’
‘You don’t want to get an infection, Charlie,’ he warned, shooting me a concerned look.
‘I know. Maybe I need a tongue clamp to keep it in place, stop it wandering where it shouldn’t.’
‘Maybe,’ he laughed. I gasped as Tibbs shot out of the lounge and dove head first into Kitt’s bag.
‘Mrs. Tibbles,’ I scolded, bending down to scoop her up, which prompted a growl as she tried to get out of my grasp. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘Do you always talk to the cat?’
‘Bet you think I’m crazy, huh?’
‘I would if you said she answered you. She can probably smell the chicken I cooked for her,’ Kitt shrugged, scooping the bag up off the floor.
‘The what you what?’ I blinked at him a few times in surprise.
‘You said she was grumpy that the shop was out of chicken, so I picked up a couple of extra breasts when I did the shopping yesterday. I was cooking chicken for me and Mum at lunchtime, so I did two breasts for Mrs. T and diced them up for her. There’s also more soup in the bag for you, a variety of tins so you don’t get bored of chicken, a loaf of soft white bread, some tins of custard too, and another pack of painkillers in case you run out. Tell me if you need anything else and I can call at the shop tomorrow and bring it over on my way to work again.’ He gave me a smile as he ran a hand through his hair.
‘I can’t believe you went to so much trouble, Kitt.’ I gave his arm a gentle squeeze and felt his muscle flex under my grip.
‘It was no trouble, I was shopping anyway. How about we feed Mrs. T before she claws you trying to get out of your arms?’ he suggested. ‘Then, if you haven’t eaten, I can do you something before I go?’
‘I can heat soup, you know. I’m not quite that bad,’ I laughed as I set Tibbs down and headed into the kitchen, both of them hot on my heels.
‘I’m more worried about you carving the loaf of bread I got you. I don’t fancy having to put your fingertips on ice while I dash you to hospital, or worse, having to take the cat to extract them from her stomach first.’
‘Oh God, can you imagine?’ I grimaced. He grinned at me as he set the bag on the kitchen counter.
‘Dr. Fitton might really think you were crazy then.’
‘He doesn’t need any encouragement.’
‘No sightings of the good doctor lately?’
‘No,’ I sighed as Kitt started emptying the bag of goodies. ‘I’ve even been loitering around the hospital, taking the OAPs on their appointments in the hope of seeing him, but no such luck. Unless I’m admitted to A&E again, the chances of bumping into him are minimal.’
‘If you like him that much, just turn up and ask to see him, then ask him on a date,’ Kitt suggested as he opened a Tupperware container to reveal a load of juicy chunks of chicken.
‘I can’t do that. I might come across as a super confident and sexy woman, but inside I’m still just a scared girl who thinks the guy she likes won’t feel the same about her. Besides, I need to grow on him more.’ Tibbs stretched up to paw at the kitchen counter, her little nose twitching as she got a whiff of her favourite treat.
‘If you need to grow on a guy, I’d say he isn’t the right guy for you, Charlie,’ Kitt scoffed as Mrs. Tibbles let out a number of pitiful meows.
‘Anyone would think I starve her. Honestly, have you ever seen such a fat cat?’ I asked him as he leaned against the sink with a serious look on his face. He just didn’t get it. A woman like me might flirt and make it known she was interested, but she didn’t throw herself at a man. He had to come to her. Besides, no man meeting me under the circumstances Dr. Fitton had each time was going to be in a rush to ask me out.
‘She’s not fat, she’s big boned, sexily curvaceous,’ he replied.
‘Oh, nicely done. Who trained you in the art of diplomacy with women?’ I teased, as I scooped half of the chicken into her clean bowl.
‘Mum,’ he replied with a quick smile at me. ‘She made sure to hammer home manners and respect from an early age.’
‘I would love to have met her when she was with it.’ I set Tibbs bowl on the floor and smiled as she started to wolf it down, her tail quivering with excitement. ‘I’d have told her what an amazing job she did, as you’ve turned out to be quite the man.’
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ he said wistfully. ‘I’d love for her to have met you, too. She’d have really liked you. Actually, I take that back, I wouldn’t have introduced you, as she’d have been nagging me incessantly, wanting to know why I hadn’t snapped you up.’
‘What is it with parents?’ I laughed, shaking my head. ‘They don’t get that men and women can just be friends, do they? I told my mum about you and she asked when I was going to bring you down to meet them. She said you sounded too good to be true.’
‘No one’s perfect, Charlie,’ he scoffed.
‘So, tell me what flaws you have, as so far I don’t seem to have seen any.’ I leaned against the kitchen worktop as I studied his deep-set frown while he considered his response.
‘I’m too soft,’ he shrugged. ‘I let people walk all over me and I don’t stand up for what I want.’
‘Why?’
‘I guess it doesn’t help that I didn’t have a dad when I was growing up. Mum taught me to be respectful of others, to be empathetic, and I just never learned to be selfish and put my needs first.’
‘It’s not selfish to do or go for what you want, Kitt,’ I said softly. ‘As long as you don’t hurt other people in the process, why should you put your needs on hold? You’re as entitled to live a happy and meaningful life as anyone else.’
‘If I do that, Mum suffers. I can’t do what I want, be the man that I want to be, unless I’m neglecting her.’
‘Then start by making small steps. Try and have a bit more time to yourself, hang out with friends and have fun once a week.’
‘You make it sound easy,’ he scoffed, avoiding eye contact as he crouched to give Mrs. Tibbles some affection as she washed her paws and whiskers, no trace of chicken left in her bowl.
‘I’m sure it’s not,’ I agreed. ‘Is money so tight that you can’t have one night a week off to go and enjoy time with your buddies?’
‘No. I just … never mind.’ He shook his head as he sighed.
‘You just what?’ I pushed.
‘I don’t really have any friends, not here anyway. You’re probably the closest thing I have to one,’ he admitted. His eyes shot up to meet mine, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. ‘I had to pack up my life in Newcastle to move here, and since then, I’ve been so busy looking after Mum that I haven’t had time to get out and meet people outside of work.’
‘Kitt,’ I whispered, my heart aching for the responsibility he’d taken on his shoulders, to his own detriment. ‘That’s no life at all.’
‘It is what it is. I don’t want to regret not having spent time with her when it’s too late. Anyway, I came over to cheer you up, not the other way around. I’d better cut the bread for you and get going or I’ll be late.’
‘You haven’t even had a drink. How about a quick coffee before you go, you look tired,’ I observed, as he stood up and ran a hand over his forehead. His green eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle and there were signs of dark shadows gathering under them.
‘I’ll be fine, thanks for the offer though.’ He offered me a tight-lipped smile, as if he was straining with the effort of holding in so much more that he wanted to say.
I handed him the bread knife and busied myself putting away the tins he’d kindly brought over, saving a can of mushroom soup to heat up for my dinner. I walked him to the door when he was done and ignored his protests as I slipped him some notes. He stepped outside and bent down to pick something up from the ground, out of sight from where I was standing, but I could hear a crinkle of what sounded like a plastic bag.
‘Kitt,’ I gasped, as he straightened up and produced a cellophane-encased bouquet of brightly coloured gerberas.
‘I thought these might cheer you up,’ he said as he handed them over. I took a long, slow inhalation of the blooms. ‘They’re Mum’s favourites and they always make her smile.’
‘That’s so thoughtful of you, and you always cheer me up. Thanks for being such a great friend.’ I took him by surprise with a quick kiss to the cheek, that made his face blush adorably pink.
‘Anytime. You know my number if you need anything. Hope you’re back on pizza chewing form soon, our takings are going to drop dramatically. You might put us out of business.’
‘I swear pizza is the best medicine. It’s a total cure all, to make you feel better when you’re ill, cheer you up when you’re sad, or keep the momentum going when you’re on a high. But seriously, do I order that often?’ I giggled with a shake of my head.
‘Let’s just say you’re up there as one of our best customers,’ he called over his shoulder as he made his way up the path.
‘Then I hope I can put my mouth back to use soon,’ I hollered. ‘Ok, that totally didn’t sound as I intended,’ I cringed as Kitt laughed and I spotted Georgie heading up her path with an astonished look on her face.