But I throw back the covers and get to my feet. My leg is throbbing and quite a bit of blood has oozed through the dressing.
Tom frowns and mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. Not that I need to, I can tell he’s not happy.
‘I—’
‘If you tell me you’re okay or that you can sort it out, I swear I will …’
I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
‘I’ll think…’ His face changes and there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘I’ll think of something.’
I’m glad of his ministrations when we get to the bathroom. I sit on the chair with my leg hanging at an awkward angle while he undoes the bandage and dressing. Disappearing downstairs for a minute, he returns with a bowl of water.
‘Here, I made this earlier. Saline solution.’ Using it he gives my leg a really good wash, apologising for hurting me every time I hiss out a breath while he’s rinsing the wound.
We both look at the ugly mess. The gash is a good few inches long and the edges are ragged. ‘Bugger,’ I say. ‘There goes my future as a leg model.’
‘You need stitches.’
‘Steri strips will do.’ I give him a no-nonsense look. ‘Look in there.’ I nod towards the bathroom cabinet, beneath the sink. ‘There might be a first-aid kit.’
A second later he says ‘Aha!’ and pulls a white packet from a big green first-aid kit on the top shelf. ‘Look what I found. And fresh dressings and bandages.’
Swivelling me round he sits on the edge of the bath with my leg in his lap. I watch him as once again he sorts me out. Honestly, the man deserves some sort of medal.
‘Do you want to go back to bed?’ he asks. A zing shoots through my body as we both shoot a look at the shower and it’s like a bolt of electricity has arced between the pair of us. He asked me that question once before, after a shower in his flat, after a long and indulgent breakfast that consisted of more than food on his breakfast bar. I’ve never looked at a breakfast bar in quite the same way since.
My nipples are up again, like shouty capitals, yelling yes.
‘I mean, Do you want to go downstairs? Or stay up here. I thought we could watch a film or something. They’ve got loads of DVDs.’
There’s a faint blush that tips his ears, which is rather endearing.
‘Yes. That would be good. Thank you.’
Even that weekend when it was all about unadulterated sex we were never awkward with each other. This constraint is quite weird in comparison. Maybe because now we’re real people whereas that weekend we were totally anonymous. Just two people who hooked up. Unfortunately, now I know Tom Dereborn, I find him a bazillion times more attractive than the fuck buddy who knew his way around a woman’s body.
The lounge is another gorgeous room. God knows how much it costs to stay here. I’ll make sure I split the cost with Tom when we get back. In the meantime, he’s made a fire in the squat cast-iron stove, which is glowing merrily, and lit the side lamps on the tables. I’m tucked up in a fine wool throw on the big L-shaped sofa that could seat a family of five quite comfortably, with my leg propped on a footstool. I could be on holiday.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a bottle of wine stashed in that rucksack of yours?’ asks Tom, bringing two mugs of steaming tea through.
‘Sadly no,’ I say.
‘Oh well, we’ll have to make do.’ His face is as mournful as a basset hound and I burst out laughing as we both look around at the luxurious surroundings.
‘Not sure this is what counts as fleeing for our lives.’
He grins. ‘Wonder if the other contestants are this warm and cosy.’
‘I doubt it. You know, we might be the only ones still on the run. If the others didn’t twig about the trackers,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘We’re in with a good shout at winning the grand prize. We can get to London on Saturday.’
I wonder what Tom wants the money for. It must be for something important. Now I’ve got to know him, he doesn’t strike me as someone who’s going to blow that sort of money on a fast car or a speedboat.
Before I can ask him, he says, ‘We’re not going anywhere tonight, that’s for sure.’ He looks out of the window at the rain still streaming down the glass. ‘Let’s enjoy this place while we can. After the last two nights I think we deserve it. Especially you. How are you feeling?’ His eyes soften and my heart does one of those little trips.
‘Better,’ I say almost in a whisper. ‘The painkillers are working a treat.’
‘Good,’ he says a bit awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know what to do now.
‘Do you think we ought to film this?’ I say to save him from his discomfort.
‘I did a bit of filming while we were out walking this morning before you fell. They can have that, but this is for us,’ says Tom and his eyes catch mine and for a moment there’s a stillness in the air, but then almost as quickly he turns his back on me and crosses the room to the DVD shelf.
‘Now, for the entertainment. I think it’s time we rectified the deficit in your film education.’ He’s got an air of small-boy enthusiasm about him.
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that,’ I reply with narrowed eyes. ‘What are you proposing?’
‘Star Wars.’ He looks so pleased with himself I can’t help but smile back. ‘You can’t die without seeing it.’
‘I hadn’t planned on dying this week. I don’t think my leg’s that bad.’
‘It’s bad enough, Lydia. As soon as we can, we’ll see a doctor.’
I want to tell him to stop fussing but I know he’s being kind and caring, so I keep my mouth shut. A little part of me is rather thrilled with the ‘we’ll see a doctor’, but I don’t give in to it, instead I’m all business.
‘Come on then, let’s see this film.’
