Page 92 of One for the Road
That bloody car. “Speak English please.”
“The bit that makes it go vroom. According to YouTube, anyway.”
“And you’re doing this by yourself?” Christ, she’d probably lose a hand.
“My womb is getting in the way a little, but somehow I manage.”
“Fuck you, Isla.”
“Romantic.”
This bloody woman was going to be the death of me.“Before I forget, Mum invited us for lunch on Saturday.” I’d given Mum a non-committal “I’ll get back to you” to the invite, but an entire afternoon of Isla’s company felt like a tempting idea.
There was a long pause. “With your family? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because we’ll have to lie to their faces.”
“You’re overthinking it,” I said quickly. Certain I wouldn’t have to lie at all.
Some fake-dating scheme this was turning out to be. “And Teddy will get to hang out with the twins.”
“Teddy would love that.”Wouldyoulove that, Lang?I heard a door slam her end. She sounded distracted as she said, “Okay, fine, we’ll come . . . I gotta go.”
“Don’t sound too excited.”
She laughed. “This has been a terrible phone call, at least try to look in love when you hang up.”
“I’ll see you soon, Isla, honey.”
The phone went dead, and I stared at it, suddenly desperate to get back to Kinleith. Even if it was only to spy on her through the window and ensure she didn’t get her fingers caught in an ignition coil, or whatever the hell she said.
“I didn’t know you had teeth.”
“Excuse me?” I turned and there was Amy, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth.
At some point in the past five minutes, I’d forgotten she existed.
“You just smiled more in the past five minutes than in all the time I’ve known you. She must be special.”
“Oh.” I waved my phone. “Sorry. It was—”
“Isla Lang. She’s my patient.” She nodded, looking happy for me. “Shit, Macabe, I assumed it was just village gossip.Now I feel bad. You’re actually dating her?” She gave up on her cereal, carrying her bowl to the sink.
I could have said no.
Amy was the only person other than Isla who knew I’d be gone by the autumn. There was no reason she needed to believe this ruse. Which was why my reply, “For a few weeks now, it’s going really, really well,” made no sense.
Her smile was somewhere between mocking and something sickly sweet. “Then I’m really, really happy for you.”
Excellent.
I checked my watch; it was time to do rounds again. “Good work over the past few days. Why don’t you head home now; I can take it from here.” I lifted my mug, feeling her bemused stare follow me out the door.
“You’re not my boss,” she called after me.
It wasn’t until I was taking Mrs Gillespie’s pulse that I realised I was still smiling.
