but then shook his head.
She followed Andrew out on to the landing.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘here’s my telephone number. You will let me know, won’t you, if he gets worse?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, automatically, though she thought:
I’ve just promised not to tell my mother and father. Why on earth would I tell you?
She stood in the darkness, listening to his footsteps going down the stairs, until she heard the click of the front door closing behind him. When she got back to the room, Toby’s eyes were shut, though she didn’t think he was asleep. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the rawness of undiluted contact with her, now that his friend had gone and they were alone. She looked down at him. There was a grey tinge to his complexion now, except for two patches of dark red on his cheeks that seemed to get more intense as she watched. The effect was ridiculous and even slightly sinister; he looked like a broken doll.
He’d thrust the bedclothes down below his waist. She tried to pull them up again, but he resisted. ‘No, I’m too hot.’
‘You’ve got a temperature.’
When she touched his forehead the heat frightened her, but a few minutes later he’d started to shiver and complained of feeling cold. She tucked the coverlet up around his chin, but almost immediately he started tugging at it, fighting to get it off. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘Has Andrew gone?’
‘Yes, just now.’
He nodded, but kept glancing towards the door.
‘He left me his telephone number.’
‘You won’t ring him, will you? He lives at home.’
‘No, I won’t ring.’
The port-wine stains on his cheeks turned him into a stranger. She sat by the bed, suddenly frightened, dreading the long night ahead.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said.
Bizarrely, he’d voiced her thoughts. ‘I think the best thing you can do is get some sleep.’
He lapsed into silence then, his eyes fluttering upwards behind his half-closed lids. Perhaps he would sleep. She sat back in the chair and gazed around the room. It was very much a student’s lodgings, right down to the cheap prints tacked on to the walls. Books were stacked on every available surface, sometimes spilling over on to the floor. In one corner, wedged between the wardrobe and the window, was a skeleton, wearing Toby’s hat.
A carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked out the slow minutes. She felt lonely, and she hadn’t expected that. She’d thought they’d be in this together, but they weren’t. Toby had vanished into his illness, leaving her to face the night alone.
As his temperature rose, he began to mutter, a jumble of words that made no sense. He seemed to think he was back at home, in his own room. Once, he even called her Mother.
She touched his hand. ‘It’s Elinor.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He managed a smile. ‘I’m glad it’s you.’
But then he started rambling and the muttering got louder. He seemed to be saying one word over and over again. She bent closer, getting the full blast of his rancid breath.
‘Toby, I can’t hear you.’
‘Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry …’
‘
Shush.
’
She put a hand over his mouth, but the sorries kept streaming out of him. He must be apologizing for what had happened between them, at the old mill and later in his room. What else could it be? Without warning he threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She pushed him back, knowing if it came to a fight he was almost certainly, in spite of his illness, stronger than her. She couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. He seemedto be staring at something, not at her, something or somebody behind her.
‘Sorry, I am so sorry.’
‘Go to sleep, Toby. Please.’
Sleep was what he needed, but she wanted him unconscious as much for her sake as his. He lay back, defeated, and closed his eyes. At first, he simply tossed and turned, made restless by the tightness of his breathing, but then, at last, he slipped into a deep
She followed Andrew out on to the landing.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘here’s my telephone number. You will let me know, won’t you, if he gets worse?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, automatically, though she thought:
I’ve just promised not to tell my mother and father. Why on earth would I tell you?
She stood in the darkness, listening to his footsteps going down the stairs, until she heard the click of the front door closing behind him. When she got back to the room, Toby’s eyes were shut, though she didn’t think he was asleep. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the rawness of undiluted contact with her, now that his friend had gone and they were alone. She looked down at him. There was a grey tinge to his complexion now, except for two patches of dark red on his cheeks that seemed to get more intense as she watched. The effect was ridiculous and even slightly sinister; he looked like a broken doll.
He’d thrust the bedclothes down below his waist. She tried to pull them up again, but he resisted. ‘No, I’m too hot.’
‘You’ve got a temperature.’
When she touched his forehead the heat frightened her, but a few minutes later he’d started to shiver and complained of feeling cold. She tucked the coverlet up around his chin, but almost immediately he started tugging at it, fighting to get it off. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘Has Andrew gone?’
‘Yes, just now.’
He nodded, but kept glancing towards the door.
‘He left me his telephone number.’
‘You won’t ring him, will you? He lives at home.’
‘No, I won’t ring.’
The port-wine stains on his cheeks turned him into a stranger. She sat by the bed, suddenly frightened, dreading the long night ahead.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said.
Bizarrely, he’d voiced her thoughts. ‘I think the best thing you can do is get some sleep.’
He lapsed into silence then, his eyes fluttering upwards behind his half-closed lids. Perhaps he would sleep. She sat back in the chair and gazed around the room. It was very much a student’s lodgings, right down to the cheap prints tacked on to the walls. Books were stacked on every available surface, sometimes spilling over on to the floor. In one corner, wedged between the wardrobe and the window, was a skeleton, wearing Toby’s hat.
A carriage clock on the mantelpiece ticked out the slow minutes. She felt lonely, and she hadn’t expected that. She’d thought they’d be in this together, but they weren’t. Toby had vanished into his illness, leaving her to face the night alone.
As his temperature rose, he began to mutter, a jumble of words that made no sense. He seemed to think he was back at home, in his own room. Once, he even called her Mother.
She touched his hand. ‘It’s Elinor.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He managed a smile. ‘I’m glad it’s you.’
But then he started rambling and the muttering got louder. He seemed to be saying one word over and over again. She bent closer, getting the full blast of his rancid breath.
‘Toby, I can’t hear you.’
‘Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry …’
‘
Shush.
’
She put a hand over his mouth, but the sorries kept streaming out of him. He must be apologizing for what had happened between them, at the old mill and later in his room. What else could it be? Without warning he threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She pushed him back, knowing if it came to a fight he was almost certainly, in spite of his illness, stronger than her. She couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. He seemedto be staring at something, not at her, something or somebody behind her.
‘Sorry, I am so sorry.’
‘Go to sleep, Toby. Please.’
Sleep was what he needed, but she wanted him unconscious as much for her sake as his. He lay back, defeated, and closed his eyes. At first, he simply tossed and turned, made restless by the tightness of his breathing, but then, at last, he slipped into a deep
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