The car door felt heavier than usual as Jack pushed it shut, emulating the leaden weight of tiredness and despondency in his bones. He had driven straight from London without stopping, his eyes dry with lack of sleep, his throat sore with sadness. He winced as he ducked his head against the siling rain, his neck stiff from the drive. He shuddered against the cold.
He had come to Beth's without really thinking; uninvited. It was late, so late that the village had that eerie edge of silence, when even the stop-outs have succumbed to sleep. He hadn't thought through how she would respond to his appearance on her doorstep at this ungodly hour, but, to be honest, he didn't really care. He needed to see her; to be near her. Even if she was grumpy and terse. Even if there was no future for them as a couple: he just needed her tonight.
He knocked gently at the door, grimacing as the sound rang out across the street. Almost simultaneously, the light in her hallway flicked on: Beth had heard his car and was already awake. She came to the door and unlocked it, meeting his gaze through the glass. Her expression was sleepy and, at first, difficult to read. Wordlessly, she pulled the door open and, without speaking, he slipped inside, out of the rain.
As Beth bolted the door again, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it over a chair, shaking raindrops from his hair. Still they hadn't spoken. Uncharacteristically, he didn't know what to say, or even where to begin. He doubted whether he would be able to get the words out. So he just stood there, arms hanging listlessly by his side, feeling as though he had been kicked in the chest. Only his eyes gave his devastation away, laden with the emotional turmoil of the past few days. And it was his eyes that Beth could read fluently.
She looked at him intently, herself biting back the emotion of seeing him like this. For a split second, the wrongs and rights of the situation flickered through her consciousness, but the rising compassion in her chest was quick to trample any misgivings. She felt a physical compulsion towards him; an aching need to comfort him.
An almighty sigh, verging on a sob, left him as she bundled headlong into his chest, up on tiptoes, arms tightening around his shoulders. His hands clawed against her, clamping her against him, as she felt his face burrow into her neck.
"I'm sorry it's so late." He mumbled, his voice unsteady. "It's just… I needed to see you. I… I… needed you."
"It's OK." She whispered, finding herself involuntarily kissing his cheek, as she rubbed his back. She could feel him clenching his jaw against the onset of tears. "Shhh." She held him tighter.
They stood like this for some time, until eventually his grip loosened slightly. She pulled backwards so she could look at him: he looked exhausted, worn out from worry. He spoke: "Karen's OK. She's back in hospital now. I don't know why I'm so upset. It's just…. It's just…" His voice broke again.
"Shhh. I know." She stroked the roughness of his unshaven cheek in a gesture which, had the situation been different, would have been far too intimate for "just friends". "I'll make you a brandy. Why don't you head on up?" she gestured towards the stairs.
He looked confused. "Up?" They hadn't shared a bed in weeks.
"Um hmm," she nodded. "I just thought that you might fancy some company tonight. We won't… er…" she shrugged, deeming it unnecessary to complete the sentence "…but if you don't want to, I can make up the spare room…"
"I really could do with some company." He cut her off before she could go further, his face plastered with exhausted gratitude. "It's been a hell of a week."
"Well, up you go then." She smiled and turned towards the kitchen.
