‘Hope you enjoyed the floorshow,’ she replied laconically.
Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up at the front of Tom’s apartment block. I asked the driver to wait a minute or so, in case Tom wasn’t there, put my finger on his buzzer and kept it there until the intercom crackled.
‘Ella?’ he said. ‘Come up.’
He was in a worse state than Keane. His face was dark with bruising and there was congealed blood in his hair and eyebrows. His T-shirt was torn and he had to limp back to the sofa.
‘I was just about to take a shower,’ he said, but his voice came out thickly, as if he had teeth missing.
‘Did you lose any teeth?’ I asked, aghast, but he shook his head.
‘Just cut my mouth to ribbons, thassall,’ he said.
‘Oh, Tom.’
I wanted to put my arms around him, but I had the feeling it would hurt him.
‘You can get me a drink if you want,’ he said. ‘Just water.’
‘Anything,’ I said, emotional and distraught at the state of him. ‘Anything at all. Just ask me.’
‘Stick with the water for now, eh?’ he said, trying a smile that came out as a grimace of pain.
I returned with a glass of water to find him lying full-length on the sofa, groaning and holding his head.
‘Perhaps you should go to A&E,’ I suggested, handing him the glass. ‘You might need stitches.’
‘Don’t need stitches. Checked.’
‘But maybe a head injury? You must have a headache.’
‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ve had worse.’
‘Well, Keane wasn’t looking too clever either, if it’s any consolation.’
‘Why did you do it?’ Tom’s pained look was down to more than his injuries.
‘Because I hated the idea of you leaving town and Keane getting away with everything. Just because Ed won’t back you up doesn’t mean the story should be killed for good.’
‘Oh, Christ.’ Tom groaned and downed the water. ‘What a mess. Right, I’m going to have a shower. You sit tight and don’t move till I’m out.’
‘Are you going to be all right?’ I said, rising from the sofa in alarm as Tom attempted to move, with a great deal of difficulty.
‘I am,’ he said darkly. ‘Don’t know about you.’
I subsided against the cushions as he shut the bathroom door behind him. Hearing the splash of water on tile, I yearned to be in there with him. I wanted to dab off the crusted blood and rub soothing balm into his aching muscles. And, to tell the truth, I was feeling pretty icky after the night’s activities with Keane. Nothing could possibly be nicer than getting out of the bloody corset.
I took off my jacket and tried to loosen it a bit, but I cricked my neck in the process, gave up and flopped full-length on the sofa with my hand clamped around the offending area. I felt as if I reeked of Keane’s hands on me and tried to douse myself in body spray from my handbag to compensate.
No, this was stupid. I took tentative steps towards the bathroom and knocked on the door.
‘Are you all right in there?’
‘Fine.’
‘Do you…need any help?’
No reply.