‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, scooping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me inside the house. ‘I meant you look terrible and should be at home in bed.’
I looked at him properly for the first time since he’d opened the door and saw that his face was creased with concern, deep furrows on his forehead, and his mouth set in a grim line.
‘You’re soaked,’ he said, helping me out of my coat. ‘I know there’s a Tube strike but please tell me you got a taxi.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘At this time in the morning, at Christmas, and when there’s a strike on? It was quicker to walk. And I’m fine. It’s just a little cold.’
He shook his head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
I looked up at him hesitantly. ‘And what is the answer to that question?’
Michael tilted his head.
‘I mean, am I fired?’
‘Are you fired? For what? For finally telling me something about yourself? Of course you’re not fired. Come on, let’s get something hot inside you.’
I waved my hand and felt myself turn a little green.
‘No, really I’m fine, thank you. I’m happy just to get this last – ’
Michael’s hand caught mine and pulled me back gently. His other hand went to my chin, tilting it up until my eyes met his.
‘Kate. You’re really not well. I’m not happy about you working like this. I already got loads done the other night after you left.’
‘You did?’
He nodded. ‘I needed something to focus on.’
I lowered my eyes, but my chin was still caught in his hand, the slight roughness of his fingers feeling disturbingly good against my skin.
‘I really should have got Bernice on this job, I think. I’ve never once lost my cool with a client, and then you come along and ruin my perfect score.’
His mouth curved into a half-smile. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Just so long as you don’t put a bad review up online about me.’
‘Definitely not going to happen.’
I smiled, still trying to ignore the clanging in my head. ‘Thank you. And I really am sorry. I’m normally so much more professional than this.’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. Really. In my family, we say what we think. There are some arguments, sure, but then the air is clear. Everyone knows where they stand. And that’s right behind one another. It’s how things work. Doesn’t do anyone any good to keep stuff bottled up inside. I just wish you’d said something earlier.’
His hands had moved to my shoulders now and I had the distinct feeling they were helping me stay upright, even if Michael didn’t know it.
‘I’m hardly going to go around telling clients something like that.’
‘No. I just meant…’
I lifted my eyes to find him looking at me. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. ‘No, of course not. Come on, let’s get you a hot drink at least. Do you have a jumper or something? You’re shivering.’
‘No, I’m all right,’ I replied, feeling anything but and less so with every minute. But I was pretty sure I could work through it and distract myself by just getting on with the job as I usually did. ‘And I don’t feel cold at all.’ This part, at least, was true. I actually felt pretty damn warm.
‘Right.’
Five minutes later I was sat in the living room, where Michael already had the wood burner fired up. Pilot was lying in front of it, snoring. As we entered, he woke and lifted his head, his tail banging lazily on the floor as he decided whether he could muster the energy, or inclination, to relinquish his comfy spot.
‘I went out for a run last night and first thing this morning. I don’t think he’s used to quite that much exercise.’
‘I think you’re right. He was a little overweight when he came to us. He did get walked, just perhaps not as much as he needed. Looks like that’s changing.’
‘I don’t know if he’s too impressed about that.’
I touched Michael’s arm, still looking at the dog. ‘He’s loving it.’ I broke away to lean over and give Pilot a stroke. ‘I didn’t know you were a runner.’
Michael lowered himself to the floor beside us, stretching his long legs out in front of him, one knee falling to the side a little.
‘I’m not really. Too many years of rugby has knackered my knees a bit but I still do it sometimes. Good for clearing the head.’
I stored that nugget of information away. A bit of head clearing didn’t sound like a bad idea to me at the moment. Although, let’s face it, me and running equalled a very unlikely pairing. Especially today, when keeping upright was proving a tough enough challenge as it was.
‘You know, you really don’t look well. Why don’t you let me take you home?’
I shook my head. ‘It’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll go off.’ I wished I was as confident of this as I made myself sound.
Michael watched me for a moment. ‘And people call me stubborn.’
‘It’s not that at all. You of all people understand the kind of pressure running your own business puts on you. You can’t just go taking sick days willy-nilly.’
‘I get the feeling you don’t do anything willy-nilly.’
‘Great. Another statement that makes me sound incredibly boring.’
‘That’s not what I meant. So how many sick days have you taken since starting your company?’
The truth was I hadn’t taken any. I’d rearranged a couple of appointments so that I didn’t go taking germs to clients, but I’d never actually had a day in bed and not worked. My biggest concession was a couple of hours on the sofa on a particularly rough day. It was just what I did. What I’d always done.
When I was sick as a child, Mum generally wasn’t in an appropriate enough state to snuggle me into the duvet and dose me up with Calpol. I didn’t even know that was a ‘thing’ for ages. I never resented Mum for it; it was just how it was. I didn’t really remember a time that it wasn’t. So I just got on with it. On the times when she would sober up and hazily realise I was full of some bug or other, I’d see her overcome with a wash of guilt and she’d make an effort to try and do the traditional mum thing. Until she took another drink and her world became blurry again. In truth, it had actually been pretty good training for running my own business. Once again, it was just a case of getting on with it.
‘I do understand. It’s hard when everything’s on you.’
I flicked my eyes up. ‘I just hope I haven’t brought any germs to you, though.’
He gave a half-smile. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty resilient. Even germs think I’m too much hassle to live with.’
I gave a weak smile, which exactly matched how the rest of me felt.
Half an hour later, I became aware of Michael studying me. I brought my head up, the effort of doing so seeming three times as hard as usual. He narrowed his eyes at me.
‘OK. That’s it. You’re going home.’
‘What? No, just let me finish – ’
‘The only thing that’s