Chapter 5

* * * *

The rest of the week flew by. Mark and I, celebrating the New Year, stood in front of the telly in each other’s arms watching Big Ben strike midnight and then sang Auld Lang Syne. We’d been invited to a party given by Mary’s parents, as well as to a smaller gathering hosted by Paul and Helen, but we both wanted to see in our first New Year alone together.

The following Monday, Mark’s bandages finally came off. I could only begin to imagine what a relief it must be for him. The nurse, a different one this time, cautioned Mark to take things easy. She told him not to get his hands wet too often.

“Does that mean I can get out of the washing up?” he asked hopefully.

“No, you can still dry the pots.” She had his number.

After cashing a prescription for some ointment for Mark, we decided to go to Daphne’s for lunch.

“How do your hands feel?” Mary, who was in the café on her break, asked Mark.

“Bloody marvellous,” he said, picking up his cup of hot chocolate.