At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (latest novels to read TXT) 📕

‘She rolled her eyes and said to me, “Oh, piss off and get me my tea, will yer?” So, I did. I put the kettle on and, as I was waitin’, I got distracted by something on the news and I ended up staying in the living room. By the time I remembered the tea and the painkiller I was pretty sure Abi was going to murder me, but I took it all into her. When I got there, she was asleep, slumped back in the pillows, so I put the tea on the nightstand and left the pill beside it and went back into the livin’ room to watch a film. I didn’t wanna disturb her, so I thought it best for me to get outta the way.

‘I fell asleep on the sofa and by the time I woke up it was past three in the mornin’. I found my way into the room in the dark so I didn’t wake her and got into bed.

‘I leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, but somethin’ was wrong. She was still in the position she’d been in when I left her to make the tea, slumped back onto those pillows. She hadn’t moved at all. I nudged her.’ His voice broke a little and I saw a tear teetering on the lower lids of his eyes. ‘She was so cold, but the room was warm. I didn’t understand it. Not until I looked at her face. She always had such an animated face, even when she was sleepin’, but it was just … blank.

‘I called an ambulance but, we all knew that she was dead, even if no one was saying it. They put her on a trolley and carried her out of here and that was the last time I saw her. One of them backed into one of the jars on the way out, knocking it onto the floor and smashing it. Later on, they told me that she’d died of a huge blood clot in her lung due to the operation and that she’d been dead for hours when they came to get her. That means that she was dead when I brought the tea in. Apparently, the faster you act with pulmonary embolisms, the better the person’s chances are. I could have saved her, if I hadn’t been distracted by the news.’

‘Charlie, I …’ But what could I say to that?

‘I came back in here to get some clothes and a couple of other things and I haven’t been in here since. The only one who comes in here is the cat. I think he likes that it still smells of her.’ He heaved a deep breath and tears rolled freely down his face, which was frozen in a mask of unimaginably deep grief. ‘So, there it is. That’s why I called you that night. She’s dead, because she was worried about how sexy I’d find her with those lumps on her chest and because I was busy watching the TV.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ I said, going over to him and wrapping my arms around his neck. He leaned into me and I felt the shoulder of my shirt moistening as he cried.

So, that’s why he’d slept in the bathtub, because he didn’t want to sleep in the bed where the worst event of his life had happened.

‘That first night when I walked away from you or the times I disappeared, it was all because, if I let myself hurt, then she’s still alive in some way. But having these feelings and acting on them, even for a second, it’s like I’m allowing her to be dead.’ Just as he was sobbing into the crook of my neck, three loud knocks came from the front door. We both jumped and withdrew from our hug. Charlie wiped his face, readying his macho façade, but his face was blotchy and red, his eyes set in a look of bottomless sadness.

‘I’ll get it,’ I said, squeezing his arm and moving through to the living room. I flipped the lock and let the door fall open, which was much easier now that all of the letters had been moved.

Standing in the doorway was a man, in his late forties with a mass of greying curls, facial hair that reminded me of Zorro, and an almost blinding turquoise scarf.

‘Erm, hi,’ I said as the man lowered his weather-inappropriate shades and stared at me like I’d just answered the door naked.

‘Who the hell’s this?’ he asked in an accent to match Charlie’s and if the accent hadn’t done enough to suggest that this man was related to Charlie, then the cornflower blue of his eyes was.

‘I’m Nell and I’m guessing you’re Carrick.’

He grinned with only half his mouth and held his arms out, as if presenting himself to me. ‘The one and only.’ He looked almost flattered. ‘Nell – lovely name. It means shining light, don’t yer know? Is he in?’

‘Erm …’

‘Charlie boy! You in there? Come out and give yer favourite uncle a big ol’ smooch,’ he bellowed into the flat.

I glanced to Carrick’s side and saw a suitcase, small and ostentatiously fuchsia pink.

‘What are yer doin’ here?’ Charlie asked, less than politely, as he appeared behind me.

‘I’m here to haul yer arse back home.’

‘Er, no, you’re not,’ he said bluntly.

‘Er,’ Carrick imitated, ‘you’ve no choice in the matter, I’m afraid, Boyo.’

‘No, Carrick. How many times do I have to tell you that there is absolutely no way I’m going back there?’ Charlie protested.

‘I’d be willin’ to talk to yer more on the subject if you’d let me through the front door, instead of leavin’ me out in the corridor like a hotel prostitute.’

‘Pfft, good job you’re not – you’d have few takers,’ Charlie said, turning around and walking back into the flat.

‘D’yer think that means I’m allowed in?’ Carrick asked, leaning in and whispering to me.

‘I have no idea,’