Page 105 of A Night with Damien Spur

And one very special night his beloved father came to him.

‘Remember, my son, the words of Confucius,’ he said. ‘Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.’

The next morning, Sophie’s call had irritated the Voice.

Damien had been so excited about the visit from his father that he had forgotten to put his mobile on silent. The ring had woken him from his pleasant sleep.

Well, we know who that is, don’t we?groaned the Voice.Nurse Sophie. She really gets on my wick. Always interrupting our chats. Wouldn’t mind if she was interested in you as a brilliant man rather than as a poor, wounded eunuch. That’s the problem. She turns you on. She makes you grumpy, cos you want some rumpy-pumpy.

Damien stretched out his arm. Blindly patting his hand on the bedside table, he knocked over a glass of water.

He picked up the dripping phone, flipped it on loudspeakerand threw it on the duvet cover.

‘Damien, where are you?’ Sophie asked.

‘Dammit! I’m at home in bed! Where else would I be? And now I’m soaking wet. Knocked a glass of water over. Thanks, Sophie. Why do you have to keep on checking up on me?’

‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘I was – until you rang. Now I’m stuck. Haven’t got the strength to get up. Can’t change the sheets. Cleaner isn’t coming.’

‘That’s all right. I was going to pop in anyway. I’ll change your bedding.’

Sophie was outside the Italian deli. She had bought him some fresh pasta, a jar of pesto sauce and a slice of tiramisu.

When she arrived at Damien’s house, she phoned him first.

‘Hi, Damien, it’s only me. I’m here.’

She let herself in with the spare set of keys he had given her.

He had to admit that it felt good. Made him feel secure. He trusted her.

He pretended that he had gone back to sleep. Let her wake him. He liked that.

‘Damien,’ she whispered. He could feel her warm breath on his neck. He wanted to turn round and kiss her, but he didn’t.

Come on, old boy, go for it, said the Voice.Aren’t you fed up with the nursey bit?

She gently shook his shoulder.

‘I’ll change the sheets,’ she said.

Sophie calmed him nearly as much as the Voice did. Even when he’d been overcome by his demons, the boom-boom cocaine and enough whisky to sink a ship, she had somehow managed to cool his head. Talk him down.

Damien got out of bed. She deftly stripped the damp sheets and replaced them with fresh ones from the ottoman.

‘You can stay forever if you like,’ he said in a jokey-serious sort of way.

Sophie kissed his forehead. ‘That’s quite an invitation. But not necessarily the best timing. I can’t see myself as a full-time nurse.’

Yes, but she’s a good mummy. Probably why you’re drawn to her. Poor, starving little lamb. You just want a bit of TLC.

He was seven years old again. Standing in the garden, watching his mother making small talk after the funeral while he tried to be a big boy. Trying not to cry. Daddy’s dead. Be brave. Or Mummy will ignore you.

Come on, Damien, the past is done.

Sophie flitted about, served his lunch. Spent the day with him. Filled it with light chatter.

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