Page 19 of The Art of Loving You

But right there, in Jack’s flat, just he and I, was exactly where I wanted to be.

‘We could have a sandwich?’ I suggested.

‘My kind of woman.’ I could feel myself glowing under the light of his smile. ‘I’ll be right back.’

It took several trips, more candles, a new bottle of wine, and then Jack placed a plate before me laden with …

‘Sorry. I was out of bread.’

‘Is this … banana?’

‘Yep. And peanut butter on cream crackers. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.’

Hesitantly I had nibbled the edge, the sweet and the savoury exploding on my tongue. Another bite, bigger this time.

‘Told you,’ Jack said fiddling with his phone. The Beatles began to play.

After we’d eaten Jack offered me his hand. ‘Dance?’

John Lennon crooned ‘In My Life’ and we spun slowly around the furniture; in the flickering candlelight our long shadows mirrored against the the walls. Jack’s lips softly butterflied across mine.

That was the exact moment I opened myself up to the possibility that I might, one day, love again.

Angela’s eyes flickered between me and Jack. ‘That sounds like a pretty awful first date.’

‘I’ve just been stabbed!’ Jack wore a wounded expression. ‘Leave me alone!’

‘A right pair you two are. Anyway, I’ve got other patients to check on. I’ll see you both later.’

We barely noticed her leave, our eyes locked together, our fingers linked. The affection I had felt for him that night in his flat, a million times stronger now.

There was nothing left to do but wait. Sometimes Jack and I discussed our plans for the future but mostly we were silent. Drained. The minutes stretched, time feeling like a vast lake we had to wade through before Jack could go home. The doctor had discharged him but the wait for Angela to bring the paperwork was interminable. I’d drawn the curtain, was lying on the edge of the bed, my head on Jack’s chest, his arm around me. His breath slow and steady, his soft fingers lazily running around the skin between my jeans and shirt. My eyelids were heavy. I was just relaxing into sleep when the curtains swished open. Guilty, I sat up, straightened my top, swung my legs off the bed but it wasn’t a nurse.

‘Faith.’ Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, face pale.

‘She couldn’t relax until she’d seen Jack,’ Michael said from behind her.

‘Sorry. I called the ward but they wouldn’t tell me anything and I rang your mobile but …’ She shrugged.

‘It’s on silent.’ I stood and after hello hugs I linked my fingers together, stretched my arms above my head to loosen my stress-tightened muscles.

‘So how are you?’ Faith sat on the edge of the bed and sandwiched Jack’s hand between hers. ‘You scared us all there for a moment.’

‘I’m okay. I’ll be going home soon.’

‘That’s a relief,’ Michael said.

‘Yes. I want a shower, a decent cup of tea and then some pineapple,’ Jack said.

‘Pineapple?’ asked Faith.

‘The hospital food has left me craving something fresh.’

‘You’ve only been here for … what? Less than twenty-four hours,’ Michael said.

‘I wasstabbed.’

‘You’re never going to hear the last of it, Libby.’ Michael laughed.

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