Page 32 of Gideon
“I think we probably should have.”
I shrug. “Maybe, but this won’t go anywhere. Yes, he’s pretty, but he doesn’t think of me as anything other than his patient.”
She purses her lips. “I’m really not sure of the veracity of that statement.”
“Darling, your vocabulary has improved since you stopped stuffing things up your nose.”
She cackles. “It’s Alex. He even punctuates his texts. He’s a terrible influence.” She nudges me. “Go on, have a go. Make a pass.”
“What a terrible expression.” I push her fingers away from my ribcage. “He wouldn’t be interested in a middle-aged closeted actor anyway. I’m so old I’m practically Methuselah in the gay world. If I went to a club they’d be fetching my pipe and slippers.”
She stares at me open-mouthed. “Who is this person talking?” she says in a tone of wonder. “Is it the same Gideon Ramsay who once replied to my request for an opinion on my outfit with the words, ‘Who cares, sweetie? They’re only going to be looking at me.’”
I laugh. “I wasn’t wrong. Stop being jelly.” The humour dies, and I sigh. “Anyway, he’s far too happy and a nice person for me. Ouch!” I wriggle away from her sharp elbow in my ribs. “What was that for?”
“For constantly devaluing yourself. You’ve paid Frankie to do that for long enough.”
“Not that again. You’ve been listening to Milo.”
“I don’t need to listen to anyone. Gid, he’s poison. I know you look on him as some sort of father figure.”
“Well, that’s fucked up. The first useless one was given to me without a choice, and now you’re saying I actually chose the second one.”
“He chose you. He plucked you out because he saw how brilliant you were and how lonely. And then he spent years binding you to him, making you think you’re wrong and the only person who can help you is him.” She curls her lip in disgust. “He’s a cunt.”
“Let’s not do this.” I sigh. “He’s right. I’ll just carry on the way I am. I’m happy.”
“Are you?”
I look out, seeing the sunbeams dance on the sea. “At the moment,” I say slowly. “I take what moments I can get, to be honest.”
“One day you’re going to learn how to actually expect happiness as your given right because you’ll own everything you are. And you’re fucking epic, Gid. You don’t see it, but I know it, and the day you’re true to yourself, I’ll know my best friend is finally happy.”
I swallow hard, abruptly sick of this pointless conversation. “Speaking of family, where is Daisy? Where is your incredibly perfect sister?”
She smiles evilly. “She was coming with us, but she missed the tender. I made sure to wave at her from the boat.”
“I would have thought that she’d be walking on water by now.”
She laughs loudly. “Can you imagine her as Jesus? She’d never have fed the five thousand all that bread.Waytoo many carbs.”
I laugh. “She’d have given them SlimFast and water biscuits.”
She chuckles and curls into me, her weight familiar and warm as we talk. But part of me is listening for the phone and wondering what Eli’s doing.
It’s late afternoon by the time she and Alex leave the boat, and the sun is slanting low, gilding us in its soft glaze. I accept her hug, relishing the fact that her body seems supple and healthy again and not a bag of bones. “Keep going with it,” I whisper. “Promise me, Jac.”
She pulls back. “I promise.” She leans closer. “And promise to shag your nurse, Gid. It’ll do you the world of good.”
I burst into laughter. “He’s not Lucozade. And how come my comment was heartfelt and sentimental and yours was just crass?”
“You make me uncomfortable when you’re nice.”
“Oh, lovely.” I stand back and Alex throws his arm over her shoulder. “Take care of her,” I say and he smiles, holding out his hand to shake.
“I will,” he says, his deep voice warm and serene. “I promise.”
The engine starts on the tender and Jacinta looks around. “Isn’t this the last boat? You’re sailing in half an hour. Where’s your nurse?”
