Trying Not To Love You

Part Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

It was less than ten days after her father came home that for Martha, everything came to a head. It was late on a Wednesday night, Martha was sat in the kitchen pondering over accounts, her father had gone to bed, Aunt Lucy too. Sonny had gone out, who knew where and she was glad of the peace and quiet. It wasn’t until her phone rang, and she saw the name on the screen that she felt fear engulf her.

                “Steph?” Her godmother NEVER called, Martha called more than enough for both of them. SO instantly she was defensive, more than that, she was scared.

                “Martha, thank god you answered.”

Martha felt sick, her heart was racing, the room was spinning, “what’s happened?”

At that moment she realised that she’d been poised for this moment, waiting for something terrible to happen in her absence, always knew that being away would be her downfall.

Steph whimpered, “We’re on our way to the University Hospital, Ethan...” her voice failed for a moment. “He got short of breath...the inhalers didn’t work. I called an ambulance but they took ages...I wanted to call you sooner, but I was panicking...I’m SO sorry Martha.”

                “Is he alive?”

                “Yes...they’re trying to help his breathing but it’s hard...I shouldn’t have...”

Martha cut her off abruptly, “Steph this isn’t your fault...I’ll be there in ninety minutes, call me if there’s any change? Please.”

Sonny had just won big, he’d met his mate Johnny in Northfield for a few drinks, then after a tip from a wily old man who was sat in the corner of the pub sipping a single malt, they both hit the bookies. The 3.20 at Doncaster - Grant a Wish...66-1. Longer odds than he normally took on, but half a ton to win had seen him come home with nearly three and a half grand. Happy Days.

He was almost skipping as he entered the farm, it was dark, but the light on in the kitchen meant that Martha was there, and coming home to someone, knowing that there’d be a hot meal for him if he wanted it, someone to share the bottle of champagne he’d bought, and most importantly someone to talk to, someone who cared was an amazing feeling.

It was something he’d never had, and the until the last few days he didn’t realise that it was everything he’d craved, and for the last week he’d felt truly alive, for the first time. Throwing open the kitchen door he froze. Martha was sat at the table gathering her paperwork, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence, neither was the wonderful smell of something that she’d lovingly cooked, she was an amazing cook, but it was her face. She was white, like a sheet, and talking earnestly into the phone.

When she looked up and saw him she gasped, “I’ve got to go.”

Hanging up the call she looked at him and in that moment he wondered if someone had died, “what’s wrong?”

She gulped again, and when she spoke her voice was quiet, a croak, “will you help me Sonny?”

It was his turn to gasp; she’d never called him anything other than Carter, but these words, this plea... “I’ll do anything for you, you know that.”

                “I need you to keep an eye on the restaurant, I’ll be contactable by phone, but I have to go to London, now. In the next few minutes.”

He stared at her, “I can’t run it for you, I know nothing about restaurants.”

She laughed dryly, “you can do it, it’s stocked, Paul’s on top of the bookings, him and Tom will help you.”