Page 61 of The Night Shift
‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘I guess you’d call it a bit of an epiphany– which is appropriate for the time of year.’ She gave a nervous laugh but stopped when she saw his closed facial expression, the hard set of his jaw. ‘I wanted to talk to you first,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘I wanted to say sorry– and…’ She faltered. ‘Well, sorry for everything really. But I wanted to see you in person– not do this over the phone.’
He took a deep breath, trying to keep the anger in check. ‘Not dowhatover the phone? What isthis? What doesthismean? For Christ’s sake Amelia. Could you just– you know– be lessbloody cryptic?’
‘You’re cross,’ she said, holding the wrist of one hand with the other and rubbing it self-consciously. His eyes were automatically drawn to her fingers. She had her engagement ring on. ‘You’ve every right to be. I’ve behaved appallingly.’ There were tears in her eyes and she stumbled slightly as she returned to the table. She looked shattered and in spite of himself he felt his anger weaken a fraction. He never could bear to see someone upset. Having said that, Amelia was well aware of this fact and he wouldn’t put it past her to use it to her advantage. She would also know that her presence alone was enough to unsettle him after such a long period.
The sight of her, here in this apartment, had once been so familiar, part of the furniture almost– which is perhaps where the problems started– familiarity breeding contempt and all that. Although the contempt had mainly been on her side, at least initially, so maybe he’d been the one that was too much a part of the furniture. Yet in spite of her previous residence here his senses were now on high alert, as if sensing danger. He hadn’t seen her face, or even heard her voice for months. A clean break, that’s what she’d called it. Not being able to front out her guilt was probably a more apt description. But whatever the reason, to go from zero sightings to her suddenly sat at what he’d come to think of as his own kitchen table, was quite a leap, and to his fatigued brain, not necessarily a leap he could cope with.
‘Look, Amelia,’ he said. ‘I’ve really got to get some sleep. My last shift is tonight. Can you just,please, tell me why you’re here?’ He was thinking of Violet as he spoke. She’d have already spelled out her intentions– within seconds of arriving home he’d have known her purpose for being there. With Amelia it was all guessing games, a feeling of constantly being on your toes– in a way he supposed that had been part of her original appeal, a sort of sado-masochistic compulsion that fed into his anxious overthinking. If he was fretting about Amelia’s feelings then he wasn’t worrying about other things. As his mother had once said, ‘The thing with you, Gus, is that you’d be worried about not having anything to worry about.’
Can you sit down,’ she said. ‘Just for a moment? You’re making me nervous, looming over me like that.’
He bit back a retort as he took the seat alongside her. The fact that she had let herself into his flat, been waiting there unannounced when he got home, the fact that he hadnoidea what she was going on about or why she was here… andhewas makinghernervous merely by standing in his own apartment? Jesus– she was so self-absorbed.
‘What is it?’ he tried again.
Now on his level she flicked her gaze towards his eyes and then looked down at her lap. ‘I made a mistake, Gus,’ she said in a small voice. She looked genuinely anguished. ‘Walking out on you. Walking out on us.’
His traitor heart gave a little leap but he didn’t know whether it was out of joy or fear. Probably a mixture of both. These were the words he’d been hoping to hear for the past three months, but now they were out of Amelia’s mouth, released into the world, he didn’t know what to do with them. He stared at her hands which were now on the tabletop, the right one nervously twisting the ring on the left, diamonds to the top, diamonds to the bottom, around and around and around. It was, strangely, both highly aggravating and hypnotic.
She had obviously been hoping for a response to this declaration and gave him another darting look but seeing that none was forthcoming she continued. ‘I was– I don’t know– confused?’ she said. ‘Scared? Overwhelmed, perhaps. I didn’t really know what I was doing.’
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wouldn’t help.
‘And the business with Jeremy,’ she said. ‘That’s over.’ She waved her hand dismissively, as if the ‘business with Jeremy’ had been a mere trifle, a drunken snog at an office party rather than a full-blown affair that had lasted months, maybe longer. A full-blown affair that had ended their engagement. His fists clenched inadvertently by his sides.
‘Over?’ he said, searching her face for clues. Was she telling the truth? Was it really over or had they just had a falling out? He couldn’t tell.
‘He’s a bastard,’ she said as if that ended the matter. ‘He’s nothing like you.’ Her face was beseeching now, tears in her eyes threatening to spill. ‘Jeremy never cared about me like you did.’
He shouldn’t feel this little stab of victory– he knew he shouldn’t– but he did. She’d realised. She’d finally seen the light. And of course some part of his brain knew that this was Amelia’s way of flattering him, bringing him around to her way of thinking, appealing to his better nature. But it was true. Nobody could have cared for her like Gus had– that was why he’d been so heartbroken when she’d left him.
Her gaze was sharper and more focussed now, like a shark sniffing blood in the water– odd that the image had popped into his head but he recognised the expression on her face from the endgame of arguments in the past, times where he’d been moments from capitulation. She evidently thought this was another one of those moments, one where she would emerge victorious. And she loved to win.
‘I realise we can’t just pick up where we left off,’ she said. ‘Of course I do. But I miss you. Nobody looks after me the way you do. I– I need you back in my life.’ She faltered and then began to cry, her face crumpling as she balled her fists into her eyes. That was how he knew she was genuine; she’d never knowingly mess up her make-up like that.
‘Say something, Gus,’ she sobbed. ‘For God’s sake. Shout at me, call me a useless bitch, whatever. I deserve it.’
He pulled his chair closer. He was furious with her, of course he was, but she was clearly upset and he hated to see people distressed, regardless of whether they deserved it or not.
‘Of course I’m not going to shout at you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid.’ He patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a platonic way but she obviously took this as an invitation for closer contact and sank against his chest with relief. He held himself rigid while the protective, logical part of his brain vied with the nostalgic, sentimental part. He could smell Amelia’s familiar shampoo, and she was wearing that perfume he used to like– the one he now associated with feeling abandoned. She had hurt him– wounded him so deeply– but still, the feeling of her nestled into him rekindled happy memories too. He couldn’t just switch them off, no matter how much he might have wanted to. She had been part of his life for a long time.
‘You’re not going to throw me out?’ she said, lifting her head to look at him, her face streaked with tears.
‘Uhm…’ Did she mean now? The presence of the packed holdalls in the corridor suddenly took on new meaning.
‘I thought you might have changed the locks. I thought– I thought you’d never let me set foot in this place again. I’d understand if you felt that way.’ She started to cry again.
It’s a bit late for that though, isn’t it, he thought to himself,because you’re here now. The anger returned in a little rush making him clench his teeth together. He was aware that by letting herself into the flat while he was out Amelia had forced his hand, however unintentionally– because he’d look like an absolute bastard if he forcibly removed her from the premises, chucked her bags out on the street. But on the other hand, he was exhausted and annoyed, and confused– he really didn’t need this.
‘Is there nowhere else you could…’ he began.
Her sobs intensified– she sounded desperate.
Gus sighed, defeated. ‘I’m not going to throw you out,’ he said prising her away from him. ‘You can stay and we can talk a bit later but I havegotto get some sleep– you understand? It’s not because I hate you, or because I don’t want to discuss this, thissituation. It's simply that I cannot function on this level of fatigue.’
She nodded sadly. ‘Of course. I know how you get towards the end of a week of nights. Remember that time we booked a holiday for the day after you’d finished a block and then you fell asleep in the departure lounge and I could barely get you on the plane? Where did we go? Tenerife?’
‘Lanzarote,’ he said.
