The NSC Boxset: Heart of Stone (288 page)

“I dunno,” she barked.

I jerked at her tone and stared at her, “Well you wanted to talk.”

“Yes, I know but . . . but I don’t know what about. Think of something yourself.”

Okay, was she for real? She wanted to talk but it was up to me to find a subject. “Umm. . . .”

We both chewed on our lips, sighed, pouted, tipped our heads and clicked our tongues as we tried to think of something to talk about. “Oooh I know,” she cried out excitedly. “What’s been the best day of your life?”

“Oooh well, you know that week when my horse came in second and I won. . . .” I paused as she stared at me. “No?”

She shook her head slowly, causing me to nod as slowly in reply. “Umm, ooh, ooh it was when you made that rhubarb strudel and Greg got ill.” I started laughing loudly, picturing how green he had gone as his hands gripped at his stomach. “Christ, that was funny shit, I’ve never seen anyone . . .” I rolled my lips and smiled at her, “The twins?”

She grinned at me, slapping my arm when she realised I was messing with her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “The day the twins were born.”

Tolerance

She’d been under for so long it was getting difficult to breathe. I glanced at my watch again, three hours, three damn hours. The coffee in the place had started to curdle in my stomach, the acid eating at it furiously and burning up whatever I had left in there.

I squeezed my eyes closed when the vision of all the blood flowed into my mind again. Bloody hell, I had never seen so much. And her scream!

I traipsed the corridors again, for what seemed like the fiftieth time, trying to draw my attention away from just waiting. I studied each replica painting that adorned the scuffed walls, I pressed the footplate on each bin I passed just staring as the lid popped up and down. I even mended a broken drinking fountain when I found it didn’t work.

I was slowly going crazy.

My feet came to a stop outside a small door. My eyes narrowed on the ‘chapel’ sign. I hadn’t been to church since my mother dragged me to midnight mass one year on Christmas Eve.

I placed my palm on the door, hesitating and checking to see if anyone was around but gave in and pushed, the scent of lemon polish and wood hitting me as soon as I stepped in.

Each pine pew led the way towards a long table decorated with candles and a small cross to which a figure of Jesus was attached. My eyes roamed the empty room as my feet led me through the centre of the rows. There was one single window, a colourful image of a saint I didn’t recognise spreading rainbows across the small room, each painted ray being soaked up by the wooden seats. Colourful red drapes hung from the walls as various crosses of different shapes and sizes littered the walls.

I stopped when I realised I had reached the table, Jesus now staring at me. I frowned at the garland of thorns wrapped around his head. “That must hurt, huh?” He didn’t answer me, but I guessed I’d have passed out with that offering. “Hi,” I smiled, feeling myself blush at him. “How are you?”

I know! I know! But what were you supposed to say to Jesus? It’s quite a difficult task actually.

I nodded when he didn’t answer and let my eyes rove the room again. “Quite a nice place you have here, quite . . . homely.”

I strolled over to the front bench and settled myself down, crossing one leg over my knee and brushing off a piece of fluff that had attached to the crappy material of my trousers. I’d never buy that brand again, cheap shit.

“So,” I sighed and smiled back at Jesus. “I suppose you know who I am . . . do you know who I am?” I rolled my eyes and tutted, “Of course you do. You know everyone.”

I placed my palms on the seat either side of me and rocked forward and backwards slightly. “My . . . girlfriend—sorry were not married . . . YET! Yet.” I nodded to him, my eyes looking at the ceiling hoping I wouldn’t suddenly be smited for ‘fornicating’ before marriage. “Well she’s . . . they’re operating on her. She’s . . . well, she’s not doing so well.” I smiled at him and shrugged. “She’s having my babies.” I nodded excitedly, it was good to share my delight instead of sat holding in my despair. “Twins, we’re having twins.”

The smile slipped from my face and I looked at him for a while. “I umm, I’d be kind of . . . umm, well I wondered if you could . . . you know . . . make sure they’re okay and all that . . . if that’s okay, if you don’t mind, and umm . . . well I . . .”

I blew out a breath to settle myself. “Women, eh? Always causing trouble, bloody . . . oh shit, sorry, I shouldn’t swear . . . Ava’s always causing trouble.” I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly but smiled. “But she’s . . . she’s kind of really lovely. I think you’d like her. She’s fun and pretty, yeah really pretty. She makes me laugh, she makes me feel good about myself too . . . and with me, well that takes a lot . . . As you’d know.”

I stood up when the wood started to ache my backside and strolled around the room, nosing at all the different candles that were piled high in each corner. “What is it with you and candles?” I asked him as I picked one up and lit it from another, placing it back on the little plate as I thought of Ava. “I mean, I never quite understood why all the candle stuff. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone setting your cross on fire, that shit wouldn’t be good for you.”

I spun round towards him and held up my hand, “No offence like, I . . . oh Christ . . . umm, that wasn’t taking your name in vain by the way, just a slip, I’m sorry . . .” I sighed and slumped back onto the bench. “I’m sorry I’m not really doing a good job of this am I? What I’m trying to say is, well if you could . . . you know, help get Ava through this. She will be the most amazing mum cos’ she’s the most amazing person I know. She’s caring and funny, thoughtful and beautiful and she’s . . . she puts up with my shit, and believe me, there’s lots of it.” I snorted, “Of course you know. Well,” I stood up and nodded to him, “I better get back. You never know, this time there might be some news.”

I pushed open the door then turned back to him, “Wish me luck, I’m about to become a dad to two babies, me and Ava never do things by half.” I rolled my eyes and left, smiling at the possibility of a new friend. And let’s face it, with Jesus on your side, you can’t go far wrong.

* * *

I stared at them. Both of them. Two amazing little bundles. One pink. One blue. I was scared to even look at them through the plastic bubble thing they were both laid in, each of them attached to numerous bloody pipes and wires.

My daughter had the most vivid mop of orange curls ever, causing my breath to still in my lungs. She was already as beautiful as her mother, heart-stoppingly so. And the blue one, well what could I say but the lucky little bugger had got all my genes, he was utterly the most handsome little thing in the world.

But they were both so tiny, so fragile and little. I was terrified of them.

“They’re both doing well,” a nurse said as she smiled widely at me. “Both are good and strong. They’ll be home before you know it.”

I nodded to her, “I hope so.”

She fiddled with some buttons and scribbled something down on the clipboard before she lifted her face to me again. “Life’s scary right now, huh?”

I pulled in a breath and nodded, “Yes. Very.”

She nodded and patted my shoulder, “Give it another eighteen years, love. It gets even bloody scarier.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. Daft woman. How could life get any scarier than what it was then, with two premature babies using tubes to breathe?

Fuck me! How right she had been!

Ava

“I’m bored.”

Mason nodded but then turned to look at me. My eyes widened on him when a wicked smile rose on his lips. “We could always find something to do, baby.”

He rolled over towards me, propping himself up on an elbow as a hand slid across the front of my throat and then round the back of my neck so he could cup the nape and pull me towards him. I sighed dreamily when his lips brushed across mine delicately, his warm breath teasing but comforting. “I missed you,” he whispered as his kisses travelled across my jaw and then started dampening a trail down my neck.

“Mmm, and you,” I breathed, my body lighting up instantly as he slid his hand around to hold the side of my head.

He was gentle as he slid the strap of my nightdress over my bad shoulder. His mouth followed it, his tongue sneaking out to taste me as his lips grazed my skin. “You’ve always had beautiful soft skin, Ava.”

His caresses were now whispering over the dressing covering my wound as he made his way towards my chest. “Mason . . .” I murmured as panic started to coil my stomach.

“Sshhh,” he whispered, blowing heat across the goose bumps that had risen on my skin, nerves filling me with fear as each hair on my body raised in preparation to approaching horror.

I started to wiggle underneath him as my body started to tremble. “Mason, please.”

“Ava, shush . . .”

“No.” I slid away from him, pulling up the strap to swiftly cover myself.

He stared at me and sighed, “Baby . . .”

I shook my head and slipped my legs out of bed, grimacing at the pain that shot through my shoulder when I moved too quickly. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry,” I rambled as I stood and slipped my slipper boots onto my feet. “Sandwich?” I asked as I spun round to him.

His eyes slid over me, from my boots and up until he met my eyes, and then back down again. The corner of his lips twitched in humour before he chuckled. “Fuck, baby. You are so damn sexy.”

I frowned and looked down. I giggled at the state of me. I was in my comfiest but sexiest negligee, the black and white lace was delicate and chic, the split up to my thigh very daring but modest and the straps elegant ribbons of dainty black silk. And then came the thick bright blue fur boots and the great big whacking bandage covering my shoulder.

He slid off the bed and cocked his head at me. “Do you even realise how beautiful you are?”

I knew where he was heading. I just shrugged and smiled faintly, “Yeah. Now, do you want chicken or beef?”

“Ava . . .” he grumbled as I walked off, holding my arm in place with a hand on my elbow as I made my way towards the kitchen.

I flicked the kettle on and started rummaging through the fridge, pulling out lots of different foods. “We have salad, or just pickles. Or there’s cheese if you don’t want meat.”

“Ava . . .”

“There’s scones if you don’t want a sandwich. Or maybe something sweet . . .”

“God damn it, Ava.” He cried, “Look at me.”

I bit into my lip as I furrowed even further into the back of the fridge, extracting jams and chutneys that were well out of date. “This fridge needs a damn good clean . . .”

“AVA!” he roared. The jar I was holding slipped from my hand and smashed at my feet, masses of plum chutney covering my feet and spreading in a circle on the floor around me. “Bloody hell,” he cursed as he rushed and crouched in front of me, picking up the bulk of broken glass.

He snatched at the roll of kitchen paper and started to mop up the spilled contents as I stared at him. He scooped and piled, wiped and cleaned, picked and shifted as I just stared at him silently, my body in lockdown as my mind refused to let him in, rejected what he wanted of me.

I stepped over him and slowly walked across the room to the door. “Don’t—you—fucking—dare!”

I closed my eyes and swallowed back the lump of fear growing in my throat. “Don’t do this, Mason.”

“I will do this!” he growled out, his anger simmering just below the surface. “And so will you.”

“I . . .” I shook my head but refused to turn to him.

“YES!” His close voice made me jump as his fingers curled around my wrist, denying me my escape. “Sit down.” I didn’t have much choice when he dragged me across the room and kicked out a chair from under the table. “Sit.” He repeated.

I slammed my arse into the chair, my own anger now bubbling away furiously. How dare he! How fucking dare he do this!

“That’s it, you sit and simmer while I make coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee.”

“Tough. You are getting coffee.”

“Well, your bloody coffee is worse than the northern oil rig.” I raged at him, my face now turning red. “I said I don’t want your damn coffee!” I picked up the vase of flowers from the middle of the table and slung it at him. Water splattered over him when he ducked and the vase hit the cupboard door, the pot shattering and splintering fragments of ceramic over him. The flowers plopped onto the floor beside his feet.

He spun round, his face furious and his chest heaving as his teeth clasped the tip of his tongue. “Better?”

“No!” I hissed as I reached right across the table and picked up the small bowl of potpourri.

“Oh,” he scoffed. “Why not, might as well go the whole hog, Ava.”

The contents of the bowl scattered on the floor as the bowl sailed across the room. Mason was ready this time, his hand snatching out as he caught it perfectly. He whirled round and flung it at the back door, the shatter loud in the quiet room. “Thought I’d save you a job!” he shouted as he turned back to me. “Is there anything else you want to throw at me? The table? Your fist maybe?”

“Fuck you,” I spat back when I knew he was taunting me, my shoulder stopping me from throwing any punches. “Fuck you.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

My mouth dropped open at his audacity. “You insensitive bastard!”

He pulled in a deep breath and stormed towards me. I pushed back into the chair before he hoisted me up and took me in his arms. “Put me down, Mason.” I raged at him as I tried to pummel him with my left hand. “Mason!”

He stamped through the house and carted me back upstairs where he gently dropped me onto the bed.

As I tried to get up, he was suddenly sat on my stomach. He grabbed my hands and pulled them by my sides before he quickly captured them between his thighs. “Hold still.” He barked at me as I struggled beneath him. “Ava! Hold still, I want to show you something.”