Goodie tried to control the shaking that was raking her body but it was no use. Salem licked her hand as it was hanging off the edge of the bed until she shuffled back slightly and patted the space beside her so he could leap up next to her. She was so cold. She pulled the duvet up further and cuddled into Salem’s large, warm body, but nothing could tamp down the shaking. Sleep, she thought, as she closed her aching eyes, I just need to sleep. In the back of her mind she knew that what she really needed was some fluids and paracetamol, but for the moment that wasn’t happening. She’d survive; she always did.
‘Goodie,’ she heard his deep voice and felt gentle fingers shift her hair away from her forehead. ‘Jesus Christ, you’re boiling.’ Her duvet was being pulled back and Salem’s warm body was pushed from her side. To her horror a whimper of protest left her lips as she tried to snatch the covers back.
‘You’re too hot, honey,’ his voice told her again, closer now, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘Have you taken anything for the fever?’ She shook her head. Where was her knife? She needed to stab this sadist in the throat.
Next thing she knew she was being sat up in bed supported by a strong arm at her back. ‘You’ve got to take these, baby.’ She felt two tablets in her hand and managed to lift them to her mouth, wincing as she swallowed over her ravaged throat. ‘Drink this.’ A glass was brought up to her lips and she took a few sips, but the cold water hurt her throat even more that the tablets had. Thankfully the sadist didn’t push it any further, and let her settle back into the bed. She pulled the duvet up to her chin again and curled into a ball, her shaking back with a vengeance. Moments later she could hear the low mumbling of his voice and blinked her eyes open to see that he was on the phone. When he caught her eye he moved to the bed and put the phone up to her ear.
‘Goodie, cariad?’
Goodie rolled her eyes and shot Nick a filthy look.
‘Katie,’ she rasped.
‘Oh no, you sound rough. Nick’s worried, bless him.’
‘He should be worried. When I have strength back I am going to kill him,’ Goodie said, trying to make her voice menacing but in reality the croaking just made her sound pathetic.
‘Tell me your symptoms.’
Goodie told her to fuck off in Russian and Katie snorted a laugh. ‘I know enough to know that was a naughty word, you cheeky girl. Humour me, okay?’ Even though she was laughing as she spoke, Goodie could detect a thread of unease in Katie’s voice; she really was going to kill Nick when she was able, for worrying her like this.
‘I have cold,’ Goodie told Katie, letting her Russian accent thicken in her exhaustion. ‘Tell me, can you section people under Mental Health Act.’
‘Um … Goodie, I’m not sure …’
‘Can you do this or not?’
‘I … uh … I can but I need a social worker and a –’
‘Call these people. Get them here. This man has lost his mind. I have cold; tell him to leave me alone.’ Nick scowled at Goodie and snatched back the phone, stalking out of the room. She was just thinking that maybe he had taken at her word and left her alone (why that made her chest constrict and her nausea worsen she had no idea) when he pushed open the door to her bedroom again.
‘Right,’ he said, using the no-nonsense voice she had often heard him employ in meetings. ‘Katie thinks you have flu. I spoke to Mum because I couldn’t remember what she used to give me, and I made this.’
Goodie stared at him and blinked. ‘You … spoke to your mother?’
He didn’t answer and just moved to the side of the bed to pull the duvet down from under her chin. She shivered and tried to snatch it back.
‘Katie said you shouldn’t overheat.’
‘You are sadist,’ Goodie muttered, her teeth chattering together.
‘Drink this.’ He shoved the cup he’d been holding under her nose and she tried to push it away, shaking more violently now. ‘Fuck it.’ He put the cup down, slid one arm under her knees and the other her shoulders to scoot her down the bed, then got into the bed behind her, pulling her shaking body back against his broad torso. Not used to sharing personal space, her first reaction was to push away, but then his warmth seeped through her clothes and she almost sighed with relief as her shakes subsided. Maybe it was the fever, maybe the intoxicating feeling of having him so close, she couldn’t be sure, but after a moment she actually buried deeper into him, pressing her face against his neck.
She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath, then one of his hands started stroking her hair and her back as he reached across with the other for the cup he’d brought in. ‘Try it, baby,’ he murmured against her hair, wafting the cup under her nose. The smell of lemon and honey drifting up to her was surprisingly soothing and she found herself reaching up and grasping it before taking a long sip.
‘That smell,’ Nick said, still stroking her back. ‘Reminds me of my childhood, you know?’ Goodie shrugged, swallowing the rest of the cup and almost moaning at how soothing it was to her throat. ‘Didn’t your mum ever make you honey and lemon when you were sick?’
Goodie shivered again and instinctively buried further into his chest. As a child she had had to rely on herself. She had long ago blocked the distant memory of her mama from her mind. When her thoughts strayed back there it tended to only be the image of those Christmas lights reflected in those glassy, unseeing eyes. But now something swam up from the back of her mind; she felt the soft brush of her mama’s lips on her forehead again, and a warm mug placed in her hand.
‘Gogol Mogol,’ she muttered against his chest.
‘What?’
‘I’d forgotten … the pain, the darkness, it pushes the other memories down.’
‘I don’t understand you, baby,’ Nick murmured, kissing her temple and stroking her hair.
‘I mustn’t forget …’ she muttered, her voice growing weaker, ‘must try not to forget …’ She trailed off and her body went slack as her breathing evened out.
*****
‘That looks bloody gross, mate.’
Nick scowled at Ed, then peered over his iPad again to check the recipe before stirring the thick glop in the glass a couple of times.
‘Well, Russians are weird, aren’t they,’ Nick grumbled, ‘and anyway I haven’t warmed it up yet.’
Ed shook his head. ‘Think Goodie is more of a straight vodka type of girl. Not an egg, milk, honey with a dash of brandy drinker.’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ Nick said, wishing he hadn’t asked Ed and Bertie over for the strategy meeting they needed before tomorrow. ‘She said Gogal Mogal, and this is what it is.’
‘She said that, but did she actually request it? Maybe it was a fever-induced nightmare of some sort of torture she’d been through.’
‘Looks a bit like that time we dared Dicky Vom-it-up Dickerson to drink that pint of curdled Baileys and whiskey that had been sitting on a radiator for a couple of days.’
‘Fun times,’ Nick deadpanned, and then rolled his eyes when he realized that yes, to Bertie it had indeed been fun times. Sometimes he thought Bertie would be happier in an alternative universe where you remained forever institutionalized in boarding school or at Oxford in the Bullingdon Club; not in the real world, where downing a pint of curdled Baileys with your trousers round your ankles and then vomiting it up over the bar wasn’t considered the height of entertainment.
Nick slammed the door of the microwave shut and scowled at them both, but was distracted by the bedroom door opening. Since yesterday Goodie had done a lot of sleeping. He’d decided not to risk moving her into his apartment: she may be weak but she could still probably inflict severe bodily harm if provoked to that extent. So he’d just moved into hers. It wasn’t like he was invading her privacy; she had almost no personal possessions whatsoever in her flat. Nick had bought the whole floor off plan when he decided where he wanted to live, thinking it would be convenient for his family when they came down to London. The developer had fully furnished and decorated them all, but the ones Nick and his family stayed in were full of books, pictures, old umbrellas, useless nick nacks … stuff. Goodie’s apartment had never been used before and still had the picture frame complete with fake family on the mantelpiece. She’d lived there for two months now, and literally nothing had been changed or displayed; it was almost eerie.
He smiled as he saw her emerge from the bedroom in just his shirt with Salem at her side; her hair was rumpled and her eyes slightly swollen, but the feverish flush was gone from her cheeks and her hands were steady. Her eyes widened as she took in the three men standing in her kitchen, then she narrowed them to glare at Nick
‘Oh hello, old girl,’ Bertie said into the silence, ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere, as was his wont. ‘Heard you were feeling a bit flipperty-gibbert. Get well soon and all that.’ Goodie didn’t spare Bertie a glance, she was still staring at Nick.
‘What are you doing in my home?’ she said, her voice hoarse, but you could still hear the menace.
‘Making you this,’ Nick said cheerfully, turning back to the microwave as it pinged and pulling out the mug. Goodie stalked across the living area to the small kitchen. It looked as though she might physically eject them all for a moment, and then she stilled, her eyes flicking down to the mug Nick was holding out to her.
‘What?’ she whispered, the anger falling away from her face to be replaced by confusion.
‘Gogal Mogal,’ Nick told her.
‘I don’t under –’
‘You talked about it when I brought you the honey and lemon,’ he said gently, reaching forward to take her hand in his, and then lifting it up so that her fingers curled around the mug. Her eyes lifted from the mug to his as she took it from him and brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.
‘Bozhe moy,’* she breathed, lifting her other hand to wrap around the mug and hold it to her like it was the most precious thing she had ever seen. ‘You … you make for me?’ Her whispered words were thick with the Russian accent she normally suppressed. He nodded slowly, becoming a little alarmed by her out-of-character reaction; he could have sworn her eyes were actually wet for a moment. Slowly she placed the mug down on the kitchen counter with as much care as you would take over a priceless piece of china. Once she was free of it she hesitated for a second, still staring at him like she couldn’t believe he was real, the vulnerable expression on her face totally at odds with what Nick was used to. Then she moved: launching forward into him, the impact nearly forcing him back on one foot. Her arms clamped around him in a vice-like grip and she buried her face in his chest. Nick stood in shock for a second before he enclosed her in his large arms, dropped his face to the top of her head, closed his eyes and inhaled. Holding her small body to his, he felt relief sweep through him, like having her close but not in his arms had been some sort of unrecognized strain.
‘Golly,’ Bertie said, breaking the silence, and Nick felt Goodie stiffen in his arms. He had, on occasion, thought that Bertie could do with a good punch in the face, but in that moment he would have quite happily strangled him. ‘Much better than old Dicky’s reaction, although I doubt you’d have been quite as keen on cuddling him, the state he was in.’
Goodie tried to pull out of Nick’s arms and they stiffened around her, his need to keep her close so strong it was almost instinctive. But then Ed laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick turned his face to him and Ed shook his head once. Nick sighed and reluctantly loosened his grip so that she could push herself away.
‘Hey, Goodie Two Shoes,’ Ed said softly as she moved away until her back hit the counter. ‘You look a bit better, love.’ Goodie’s eyes flicked between the three men and it took a few seconds but then the shutters came down, blocking out any trace of vulnerability from before.
‘I am fine,’ she rasped, making her way around the kitchen island to put even more space between them. ‘I need to …’ She trailed off, looking lost for a moment; then she glanced down at what she was wearing, and to Nick’s complete amazement she blushed. ‘… get dressed.’ She turned on her heel and practically ran to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
‘Don’t push her,’ Ed said under his breath to Nick. ‘Let her come to you. Don’t make her feel trapped.’
Nick huffed out a breath and tore his hands through his hair. Having never had to put in the slightest bit of effort for anything he wanted in his life before, especially women, he wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with Goodie. Then he remembered the feel of her in his arms and the clean, citrussy scent of her hair and he knew that he would just have to develop it, and fast.
‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘It feels like one step forward, ten steps back with her. Could be I never break through. I’m not sure that …’ He broke off as the bedroom door opened again. Goodie walked back to the kitchen island, still in his shirt, ignoring all of them. She went straight to the Gogal Mogal, snatched it off the surface and stalked back to her room, clutching it to her chest. Nick watched with astonishment as she slammed the door again.
And then he smiled.
* Bozhe moy – Oh my God
