Chapter Sixteen

I am not a great patient and Theo is not a great nurse. In his defence, the man hasn't had to take care of himself, let alone another person, for two decades. At first he hovers, anxiously, waking me up every ten minutes to ask how I feel and to take my temperature.

After the twelfth time, I summon the energy to throw my pillow at him and tell him in no uncertain terms that if he doesn't leave me alone to sleep, the zombie apocalypse will be the least of his worries. I use a lot of swear words. His eyes get bigger and bigger and at one point I think he's going to laugh, but the glare I send his way has him swallowing the impulse.

‘Fine,' he huffs, leaving the room with a muttered, ‘you know where I am if you need something.' I can already hear him speed-dialling David but I don't care and I crash out into an oblivion that lasts through to the next morning.

I'm woken by a lot of ominous banging noises from downstairs and the smoke alarm briefly blares. I later learn this is because Theo tried to make soup. He tells me this crossly, as if it was my idea, and I notice that three of his fingers have plasters on them.

‘You should have just heated some up from a tin,' I say.

‘It was from a tin,' he sulks.

Giving up on the soup plan, he brings me plate after plate of slightly burnt toast and forgets what medicine he's given me and when. I groan and complain and tell him there's this thing called a pen and he can write that stuff down. He tries to make me drink some of the green slime juice and there's more swearing from both of us. Like I said, I'm not at my best.

Once I start feeling a bit better, I apologize. ‘I'm a horrible ill person,' I wince. ‘Ask any member of my family and they'll tell you. You should have run for your life the second my temperature started rising.'

‘You didn't give me much notice before you started projectile vomiting,' Theo says, rearranging the pillow behind my head. ‘But I'll certainly bear it in mind for next time.'

‘I'm just trying to warn you,' I mumble. ‘We're not out of the woods yet. I'm going to be a whiney grump for a while.'

‘I can handle it,' Theo says with what I consider to be misplaced confidence.

‘You say that now…' I trail off, weakly. ‘I need to phone David. Shouldn't we be organizing someone else to come here and look after you? Maybe I should just go home.'

‘I don't need someone to look after me,' Theo huffs. ‘I'm not a houseplant, I'm a grown man.'

I remain suspiciously silent but the look I give him obviously speaks volumes.

‘I am,' Theo insists, clearly torn between outrage and amusement. ‘You and David make me feel about three years old, but I promise you, I am almost forty and capable of functioning in the world without a nanny.'

I raise my brows. ‘How much is a pint of milk?'

‘I don't know. Two pounds? Three?' he hesitates. ‘Wait, is this one of those trick questions to show how out of touch I am and it's actually 50p?'

‘How do you pay a gas bill? How do you log in to your Netflix account? How does the washing machine work?'

He looks annoyed now. ‘Just because I don't do those things doesn't mean I can't do those things,' he insists.

‘Fair enough.' I slump back, closing my eyes, far too tired to carry on that conversation. I wonder distantly why it feels normal for Theo to sit on my bed, arguing with me. ‘But it doesn't seem right that I'm getting paid to do a job I can't do. Not that there was much to do in the first place.'

‘Because I'm so low-maintenance,' Theo insists, stretching his long body out beside me, hands clasped on his stomach. ‘And just shut up about it. You're ill, it's not your fault. You'll be better in a few days and then everything will be back to normal. You don't need to lose your job just because you've got the sniffles.'

‘The sniffles,' I snort, my head resting on his shoulder of its own accord. ‘More like the Black Death.' And then I fall asleep again.

Two days later I'm feeling much better; wan and tired and coughing like I smoke forty a day, but my temperature is normal, my body has stopped aching, and I treat myself to a long, hot shower, changing into real clothes. Sure, they're a pair of yoga leggings and a crop top which is – at the very least – bra adjacent, but that is all anyone can ask for at this point. I top this off with a sloppy T-shirt that used to belong to Len but which I kept because I had broken it in perfectly. It may not be a huge step up from pyjamas but they're still clothes, outside clothes.

When I make my way gingerly downstairs, I find Theo sprawled on the sofa.

‘Hey,' I say, suddenly weirdly shy. I've spent the last two days sleeping and sneezing. I have been a sick, sweaty, cross little gremlin that whole time, and he's looked after me. There's not really any reason to start feeling shy now. That ship has sailed. That ship is way over the horizon, tangling with sea monsters.

‘Hey!' He turns to me, a pleased smile spreading across his face, and the dimple is out and it feels like someone has flipped a light switch inside me. ‘You're up!' Then he sneezes four times in a row.

‘Oh, no.' I take a step towards him.

‘I don't feel too bad,' he insists, though his nose is pink and his eyes look a little glassy. ‘Just some sneezing and a bit of a headache. Nothing life-threatening.' I lean over him, touching my hand to his forehead.

‘You're not hot,' I sigh, relieved.

‘That's a matter of opinion, thanks,' he replies, his voice muffled. I look down and realize that I'm standing bracketed by his long legs, pressing my chest right next to his face.

‘Oops, sorry!' I take a sharp step back.

‘Didn't hear me complaining,' he murmurs, but I ignore that. Flirty Theo has returned, it seems, and I remind myself not to read too much into things, that any feelings of a warm, tingly nature need to be firmly quashed.

‘Let's get some of those vitamins in you,' I say over my shoulder, going to grab a bottle of juice from the fridge. When I come back into the living room I throw it at him. He catches it easily, cracks it open to start drinking, and I try not to watch the movement of his throat.

‘Someone sent you something.' Theo gestures to the coffee table where he's left a small box addressed to me. ‘There's another one too, I shoved it over there.' He points by the window and there's a giant box sitting on the floor. I can't believe I missed it. Too busy looking at Theo, which, I chide myself, is not a good idea. Does he have a pretty face? Yes. Does he have the body of an underwear model? Yes. Is he also surprisingly sweet and caring? Sure… I'm losing track of my own point here and I blink, focussing on the boxes instead.

I tackle the giant box first and Theo gets up to help me. It's an enormous, floppy stuffed unicorn, the kind a child could use as a beanbag. It has a rainbow-coloured mane and it's wearing a homemade sash, beauty-queen style, that says, GET WELL SOON, CLEMMIE!

‘From Lil,' I smile. The most perfectly Lil gift, ever.

Theo is still examining the unicorn (‘Can we call him Corny?' he asks) when I open Serena's gift. If the unicorn was perfectly Lil, then this is certainly Serena. It's a jumbo-sized bottle of echinacea and an extremely expensive-looking, all-the-bells-and whistles, also jumbo-sized, purple vibrator.

I snort, reading the card.

Orgasms make everyone feel better. Hope this stops you being a moody cow. No reason wish number 1 can't still come true. Xx Serena

I look up at Theo and see him notice what's in my hand. For a second there's a look in his eyes that feels like it's about to burn the clothes off my body. Then he clears his throat.

‘From Serena, I'm guessing?' he says, and his voice is steady, amused.

‘Of course,' I reply, shaking my head as if I can physically dislodge the decidedly not-suitable-for-work images that are flashing across my brain.

‘Nice,' he nods, and he sounds so mildly interested that I think maybe I imagined the look altogether, maybe it was just me. I really don't think he's been affected after all, not until he turns and walks straight into the wall beside him.

‘Ow!' he groans as I collapse helplessly into laughter.

Theo sneezes again. And again, and again.

Finally he crashes out face down on the sofa. ‘My head hurts,' he mumbles.

‘I need to call David.' I am already pulling out my phone.

‘No, you don't,' Theo says firmly. Then he sneezes again.

‘Are you kidding? What if you get worse? I'm already on the thinnest of thin ice with him. I need to tell him right now.'

Theo's response is to close his eyes and moan into the sofa cushions.

David answers on the first ring.

‘Clementine.' He sounds as annoyed by my existence as ever. ‘I trust you are feeling better.'

‘Yes, thank you,' I reply nervously. ‘Um, but Theo seems to have developed a bit of a cold.'

There's a dangerous pause. ‘Is it affecting his voice?'

Oh God, I hadn't even thought about that. ‘Is your throat hurting?' I ask Theo. He shakes his head. ‘He says no,' I tell David.

‘Put him on the phone, please.'

I hand the phone to Theo, who sits up reluctantly. ‘Hey,' he says, resigned. Then he is quiet for a while as David talks. A frown pinches between his eyes. ‘Fly the doctor in from LA?' he repeats incredulously. ‘It's just a cold, David. Calm down.'

What follows makes Theo's cheeks flush. ‘That was a totally different situation and you know it!' He casts a glance in my direction and huddles lower, speaking softer, but I still catch the sulky teenage tone. ‘I'm not totally out of touch with reality, you know.'

Even I hear the bark of laughter David makes and I press my lips together to keep from smiling. The way David acts about my job, I thought he would be incredibly obsequious with Theo, but it sounds like he's happy to give him as hard a time as he does me.

‘Give it a rest,' Theo says. ‘You know I'd let you fuss if it was something serious, but it's not. I don't have to perform for twenty thousand people tomorrow so I think we can give the doc the night off.'

This must be enough for David because after another couple of minutes of conversation Theo hands the phone back to me.

‘Clementine, listen to me very carefully.' David's voice is serious. ‘Mr Eliott's vocal cords are worth a fortune – an actual fortune – and they are in your care. Think of him as a Stradivarius. Your only job is to protect this precious instrument. I am going to send you a list of throat treatments that he needs to strictly adhere to, and if he shows any sign of getting worse, any sign at all, you contact me immediately.'

I can feel my eyes growing wider and wider as he talks. ‘Yes, David,' I say meekly.

When he hangs up a few minutes later, I look over at Theo. ‘What did he say?' he asks suspiciously.

‘He said…' I swallow. ‘That your vocal cords are in my care. He called you a precious instrument. He called you… a Stradivarius.'

Theo lifts his hands to his face. ‘Oh my God,' he whispers, like a kid whose parents have just mortified them.

I start giggling then.

Theo drops his hands. ‘And you can shut up as well,' he grumbles, but even though his mouth stays in a flat line, his eyes crinkle.

I laugh harder and my laughter almost immediately turns into a wheezy, honking cough that has me bracing both hands on my knees.

‘Right,' I say, once I've got myself under control. ‘I hope you like lemon and honey because according to David you're going to be basically swimming in the stuff.'