Fourteen Days(2)

And then he remembered the darkness.



The sound of Nicky rustling beside him pulled him out of his daze, so he rolled onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered how on earth Leah was going to cope without him. He tried to think of another subject, like movies, or sports, or even what to have for breakfast, but thoughts of the website and the missing files continued to seep through. How am I ever going to relax? he thought. She’s never gonna cope without me. Give her three days and she’ll be begging me back to save her ass. But I’ll just have to decline. Tell her I have to relax, put my feet up. Doctor’s orders.

Nicky shuffled again, and then popped her head up to look at the clock. “It’s a quarter past six, why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked, eyes half-shut.

“I’m trying. My body clock’s all messed up. I’m not used to sleeping in.”

She rubbed her tired-looking eyes and yawned. “How you feeling today? Any better?”

“I’m fine. I think.”

“Not feeling light-headed or anything?”

“No, nothing. Probably just a one-off.”

He turned his head and kissed her cheek. “Get some sleep. You’ve gotta get up soon.”

“Love you,” she said, barely audible.

“Love you, too.”

He listened to her heavy breathing as she slept beside him. Gently stroking her long brown hair, he stared up at the ceiling, trying desperately to block out thoughts of work.

No such luck.



Richard had been up since 6:45 a.m., unable to sleep. Nicky was standing in her underwear at the other side of the living room, ironing a dress. He glanced at her slim, sexy body as she ironed, trying not to be late for work again. It made him smile. No matter how early she was up from bed, she would still always manage to be in a mad rush.

“How’s the bump?” she asked, still focused on her dress. “Is it still bleeding?”

Richard prodded the cut at the back of his head, and then checked his hand for blood. “No. It’s fine. It’s dry.”

“Thank God. Lucky you didn’t need stitches.” Nicky sighed. “Or worse.”

“Worse? What’s worse than being carted out on a stretcher…in front of everyone in the office? It was bloody humiliating.”

Nicky stopped ironing her dress and scowled at him. “You could have been killed.”

Richard chuckled. “That’s a bit overdramatic, babe.”

“No it’s not. You could’ve smashed your head on something worse than a desk. You could’ve had brain damage.” She returned to her ironing, clearly irritated. “Don’t know how you can be so calm about it.”

“Look, Nic, there’s nothing I can do now. The doctor said it was just a nasty bang on the head. Maybe a little concussion. So there’s nothing to worry about. Honestly, I’m fine.”

She slipped the dress on and then unplugged the iron. “Well, make sure you call me if you start to feel unwell. Or better still, call the doctor.”

She walked over to the couch, almost running, and kissed him on the lips. “Right, I’m off. See you later. Don’t forget what I said.”

“Okay. Don’t worry. Just have a good day,” he replied, getting up to follow her out.

Standing at the front door, she kissed him again. “Don’t stress yourself out today. No heavy lifting. No work stuff. And no coffee. Just take it easy. Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll be fine. I’ll phone you if there are any problems. Don’t worry about me. I’m just gonna chill out on the couch. Nothing stressful.”

She left the house and headed across the street toward her car. “Love you.”

“Love you too. See you later.”

She gave one last wave goodbye and drove off.

Watching her as she vanished down the street, he had a sudden feeling of loneliness. This was the first time he had been alone in the house since moving in five months ago. His work schedule had become almost unbearable, even for him. He sat back on the couch and began watching the news again. Nothing registered. His mind only had room for one thing: work.

He glanced at the phone on the coffee table next to him. Should I call Leah, just to ask how she’s coping? he thought. No, I shouldn’t. The time at the corner of the television screen read 7:45 a.m. The office isn’t even open yet, he realized. What the hell is wrong with me? Get a grip, Gardener. Enjoy two weeks of lazing around the house, with no one to bug you. Come on, forget about work. They can manage.