The strap was different, and he’d obviously had the glass replaced because the scratches that she remembered were gone. But the sixpence was what mattered. Rafe had said that his grandfather had carried it in his pocket for years, and then had the watch made for his only grandson when he went to medical school, saying he’d had all the luck he could stand and he was passing it on now.
Something tugged at her heart. She’d seen Rafe take this watch off the nightstand every morning and put it on. Having grown up in a world where he was surrounded by things of material value, this was the only one he seemed to care all that much about. He must have been so tired last night that he’d forgotten that it was in his pocket.
‘Still got his lucky watch, then.’ Charlie chuckled. ‘Good thing that didn’t go into the washing machine.’
‘Yeah.’ Mimi put the watch down on the table. Even there, it seemed to be radiating some signal, activating memories that she’d rather not think about at the moment.
She stuffed the clothes into the washing machine and was fiddling with the dial when Rafe appeared at the kitchen door. Thankfully he was dressed now.
She could hardly look at him. His thick, dark blue shirt was open at the neck and tucked into jeans that fitted better than they had any right to. Mimi thought she recognised the brown leather belt, or one quite like it. Suddenly this was almost worse than seeing him half-naked. The shirt couldn’t conceal his broad shoulders, and the jeans only accentuated his slim hips. And her treacherous memory was busy filling in the gaps, reminding her that she knew every inch of his body and that it had always been beautiful.
‘Have you seen...?’ He was clearly looking for something.
‘On the table.’
‘Ah... Thanks.’
Mimi turned her back on him, studying the instructions on the packet of washing powder as if this was the first time she’d ever washed clothes. She’d armed herself against all the obvious things, his smile, his scent, but she’d forgotten all about the watch and it had sneaked in under her defences. She’d deal with it, though. Just as long as she didn’t have to see him put it on...
Charlie came to her rescue. ‘Hey Rafe. Good night’s sleep?’
‘Yes, thanks. Much better than if I’d stayed at the hospital.’ He seemed to want to explain his presence here.
‘I imagine so. Sit down; breakfast’s almost ready.’
The scrape of a chair and then a sudden laughing exclamation from Rafe. ‘Really?’
Mimi turned and saw that Charlie had pulled himself out of the wheelchair and was sitting on a high stool next to the cooker.
‘Yeah, really. Took a bit of work.’
‘I’ll bet. Nice one.’
Rafe was grinning from ear to ear. The same grin that Mimi had worn for days when she’d seen Charlie wave away his physiotherapist’s help, leaning heavily on the parallel bars for support as he took his first laborious steps. Now, standing and even walking a little was something he did many times a day.
Suddenly it seemed all wrong that Rafe had missed out on that. She could have at least sent him a text to let him know how well Charlie was doing. She could have, but she hadn’t.
‘Have you heard from Jack?’ Rafe was leaning back in his chair, still smiling.
‘Oh... Yes. He texted me. Holme’s completely cut off at the moment, so he’ll be staying there for the next twenty four hours at least.’
‘Everything’s okay with him, though?’ Charlie interjected.
‘He said so.’ Jack hadn’t gone into details about exactly what he was up to, and Mimi had been happy to take his lead. ‘Apparently ambulance control told him the same as me—that they don’t have a spare vehicle and he should take his days off. They’ll sort something out for when we go back on shift.’
‘And, in the meantime, you and Rafe are doing your thing.’
Shut up, Charlie. Mimi gave him a withering look and he ignored it and began to dole out the contents of the pans on to three plates. Like so many other weekends when the three of them had eaten together, only then it had been either Mimi or Rafe doing most of the cooking.
Now, Rafe was sitting back, watching. He knew as well as Mimi did that you only helped Charlie when asked.
‘Come and get it, then.’ Charlie had finished serving the food and Mimi went to collect the plates and transfer them to the table.
‘This looks good.’ It was a full English breakfast and Charlie had crammed as much as he could on to each plate. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Me too.’ She heard Rafe behind her but didn’t dare look round at him. His hand shot out of nowhere and suddenly he was shaking Charlie’s hand. ‘Really good to see you on your feet, mate.’
‘Thanks.’ Charlie shifted on the stool and Mimi got out from in between them, carrying two of the plates over to the table. When she looked around, she almost dropped them.