Breathe You In (10 page)

I rested my hand on his arm, studied the cute little
mole on his cheek. It was small and flat, perfectly round. “What is it, Ruben?”

He screwed up his eyes, wrinkled his nose.

“Tell me.”

“Fuck,” he said, staring at me. “It’s been
bloody years since I’ve done it and certainly not with this new heart. And I
don’t think public sex would do me any favors.” He gave a nervous laugh. His
cheeks were flushed. “The thrill of it might finish me off.”

Something very deep inside me melted for Ruben.
He’d clearly been having a wild time before his illness; chasing races and the
dreams that went with them. But now, here he was, picking up the pieces.
Adjusting to a slower world and a new way to be in it.

But he could do it. I was on that same path and
managing to put one step in front of the other. It was beginning to make sense,
this route, and I’d help Ruben on his way if he needed me to. I couldn’t carry
him, I wasn’t that strong, but I could hold his hand. Let him follow me some of
the way. Who knew, maybe one day we’d both run, sprint and leap again.

“It’s been a long time for me too,” I said. “We’ll
go slow, I think we both need that.”

He reached for my hand, lifted it from his arm
and turned it over, palm up. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to say thank you.”

“I do, you’ve made me feel like a hot-blooded
male again, and I appreciate that, but even more I appreciate your
understanding.”

He placed a gentle kiss in the center of my palm.

“For me there was only ever Matt, he was my
first love, my only love.”

He breathed deep then let it out slowly. “Then
you are very lucky.
Matt
was very
lucky.”

“He was fond of saying that.”

“I can see why.” He paused, a new sparkle
appearing in his eye. “I want to take you somewhere, somewhere really special
to me, but it has to be tomorrow evening. Can you handle spending more time
with me?”

“Of course. Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“It’s fun.” He pulled a face. “Loud though.”

“Oh, no, not the blitz room again at the museum?”
I smiled. “I can’t cope with that.”

“No, definitely not there.”

*
* * * *

I looked at Skin Deep from across the pedestrianized
street. The sign was the same—pale green with pink writing—and the
promotional poster in the window identical to the one in Leicester. But this
was a different shop, new people, new customers, all part of the new me.

I twirled my wedding band around and around in a
fast, nervous gesture. What would I fiddle with when I wasn’t wearing it? What
would keep my fingers busy?

That morning, my first day at Skin Deep
Northampton, I’d had the sudden urge to take my ring off. I’d been eating toast
and marmalade, staring at the news without watching, when the idea had rushed
into my head all bloated with self-importance. Now I couldn’t stop paying heed
to it, toying with the possibility.

I stared at the ring; it was pale gold and the edges
slightly beveled. I hadn’t taken it off since the day we were married. When
Matt had slipped it on my finger in front of God and our family and friends, I’d
truly believed I would wear it until my dying day.

Yet here I was, standing on an unfamiliar road
in an unfamiliar town about to do the unthinkable. Remove it.

I spun it faster. It was a little big. It seemed
my weight loss had even extended to my fingers. Maybe taking it off was for the
best, it would only go missing now that it was so loose. If that happened I’d
be crushed. This ring was the symbol of Matt’s love for me, my devotion to him,
our promises to be true to each other for as long as we both lived.

Yet he didn’t live.

I stopped rotating it, lifted my hand and kissed
the band. “I’ll always love you,” I whispered before sliding it off. There was
a slight dip in my finger, an indent. I rubbed it, liking the feeling. It was
as if I was still wearing it, in a way.

Quickly, before I dropped the ring or changed my
mind, I secured it in my purse, in a little zipped compartment. Maybe I’d find a
chain to wear it on. Perhaps it would sit in my jewelry box. Whatever happened
I would always keep it, it would always be my most precious possession.

I took a deep breath, straightened my black
blouse and checked the fly zip on my neat black trousers—standard uniform
for Skin Deep—then stepped across the cobbles.

Now, when I met my Northampton colleagues, I
would be Katie the new girl or Katie from Leicester or Katie with the long,
brown hair. Katie the widow had to become a much smaller part of who I was, it
was the only way I’d find the happiness I knew Matt would want for me. The
happiness I wanted for myself.

*
* * * *

My first day flew by. The manageress, a Jamaican
lady called
Corine
who only just fit between the
stands of products her bottom was so wide, was lovely and welcoming. She smiled
all day, flashing dazzling white teeth, and chatting about her life in the
Caribbean and her daughter who lived there and was soon coming for a visit to
England.

There was one more girl front of shop with me,
Janine; she was pretty and perfectly made up. She, too, was chatty, but mainly
about her friends and the bloke she’d just split up with and the one she liked
now. By the time mid-afternoon hit I knew the history of her love life in great
detail. It was nice, freeing in a way, not to have her hesitating about telling
me saucy snippets, worrying that she might upset me or sound insensitive to my
situation. I smiled and nodded, answered appropriately and enjoyed the light feeling
her flow of conversation had given me. Not being thought of as a sad widow was liberating.

At five o’clock, I was in the back room,
checking in some new stock, when
Corine
called
through from the front of shop in her smooth drawl. “Katie, chicken, there’s a guy
asking for you and he has got the cutest damn smile I have ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She poked her head around the door. “Get
your
toosh
out here before I jump your man.” She
rolled her eyes and grinned. “Lucky thing, you.”

I put the box of organic lipstick down and
dashed through to the shop front.

Ruben stood there with hands in his pockets and
his cheeks a little red. He looked big and dark amongst the dainty, pink girly
stuff surrounding him.

“You can come and see us anytime,”
Corine
was saying to him. “And if you want me to help you
sample any of our massage oils, just say the word.” She cackled loudly.

Ruben shifted from one foot to the other. He
appeared to clench his hands into fists in his pockets. “Thanks for the offer,
might just take you up on it.” He grinned.

“Oh, you should do that.”
Corine
held up her big, dark fingers and waggled them, the gold of her many rings
catching in the light. “I could work magic on a body like yours with these
hands.”

I suppressed a giggle. She was outrageous, but
it had all been said with a fun-soaked smile.

“Ruben.” I stepped up to him. “Hi.”

“Katie.” He’d been holding his own with
Corine
, but still, there was a flash of relief in his eyes that
I’d arrived.

“What are you doing here?” Not that I was
complaining; a twirl of pleasure had wound itself in my stomach. Damn, the
bloke was cute, I could see why
Corine
was having fun
with him.

“We said we’d go out this evening, remember? Mystery
tour.”

“Yes, but…” I glanced at my watch. “I have
another half an hour to work.”

“Oh, nonsense, chicken,”
Corine
said. “You get yourself out there now.” She waved at me then the door that was
flung open to the street. “I don’t think there’s going to be a rush on Pebble
Pink Lippy in the next half an hour. Go on out with your sexy man.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She shook her head, and the bun of
wild black hair on the top of her head wobbled. “You’ve worked your little
socks off today with that inventory, and to be honest, we’re thrilled to have
you. Been too much for just me and Janine, your arrival is a godsend.”

A warmth settled inside me. I’d had a good first
day, positive all round, and to know that I was wanted, appreciated, was like
the icing on the cake. So why did my eyes feel tingly? Like tears wanted to
form?

“Katie,” Ruben said, touching my shoulder. “Are
you all right?” There was concern in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, fine.” I looked at
Corine
. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure.” She waved her hand at the
door again. “This isn’t prison, you know, and one day when a gorgeous guy turns
up to whisk
me
off into the sunset,
you can stay behind and hold the fort.”

“Deal.” I blinked; the threat of tears thankfully
had come to nothing. “I’ll just grab my bag from the office then.”

It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
A sound that didn’t just make itself heard through my ears but through every
cell of my body. From the soles of my feet to the tiny hairs on my arms. No
part of me didn’t get blasted by it.

As for seeing the Formula One car as it sped
under us—we were standing on a black-and-white bridge over Silverstone
racetrack—it was nothing more than a blur with wheels and a streak of
blood red. How anyone could drive that fast and stay in control was beyond me.

“What do you think?” Ruben shouted, spinning
around to watch the car speed away.

I did the same, and he slipped his arm around my
waist and steadied me. A gust of wind dragging behind the car had whipped my
hair around my face and caused me to falter. Every bit of me was still
vibrating, and the roar echoed around my head and in my chest.

“Really bloody loud,” I shouted. “Is there just
the one?” I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if there was more I needed to
brace myself for.

“Looks like it. The McLaren team have arrived a
day before everyone else. Clever move, it means they get a couple of hours on
the track tonight, could put them a step ahead.”

“Why are they here?”

“It’s the Grand Prix next weekend. They’ve just
come in from Japan.”

“And that’s what you used to do?” I could just
make out the car in the distance now, weaving around a set of snake-like bends.
“Travel with the team?”

“Yes, I was one of four lead mechanics working
for Dean
Cudditch
, that’ll be him driving now.”

“Dean
Cudditch
, I’ve
heard of him.”

“I should think you have, he’s won more Grand
Prix titles than any other driver.”

“Wow, and you were part of that?”

Ruben gestured down at the track. “Yes, that was
my home when we were racing in England, that pit stop there.”

A layby gave way to a white building with a flat
roof. Blue paint on the floor outlined a car-sized square surrounded by black
electrical ropes and a white box, like a fuel dispenser. Several men wandered
about in red all-in-one outfits. A nervous-looking man in a suit glanced at the
track then studied his watch then stared at the track again.

“Come on,” Ruben said. “I’ll introduce you to
the team.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, they’re good fun. I haven’t
caught up with them in months, so it will be cool to say hi.”

“
Er
, okay”

A sudden wave of anxiety crashed through me.
Ruben wanted to introduce me to the men he used to live the high life with. The
guys who saw him having fun with lots of women, glamorous, gorgeous,
sophisticated women from all over the world.

I frowned down at my black trousers and plain
black shirt, wishing, for the first time, my work outfit wasn’t so widow-like.

Ruben kept his arm around my waist as we went
down the steps to the inner sanctum of the racetrack. It seemed he still had
access-all-areas status even though he wasn’t working here. The two security
men we’d seen had both shaken his hand, told him he looked well and smiled
broadly at us.

“Hey, it’s Strong,” a man called out as we
approached the pit stop along a marked pedestrian walkway.

“Jones, how are you doing, mate?” Ruben shouted.

Jones gripped Ruben’s hand and clasped his
shoulder at the same time. “You look great, life’s obviously treating you well.”
He grinned at me and appeared about to say something, but the deafening rumble
of the car pealed through the air.

We all turned to see it popping down the gears,
and then roll to a halt within the blue-painted square on the ground.

“We’re just finishing up,” Jones said. “Dean was
keen to try out a set of new high-traction tires since the track is so dry.”