Read The One I Was for Free Online

its poles.
    ‘I feel rude not getting up. What must you think?’ The eyes rolled with the irony of it.
    ‘I’ve seen worse. You haven’t thrown a bedpan at me to welcome me.’
    ‘Someone did that?’
    ‘At least it was empty.’
    ‘Could have been worse.’ He grinned, the years slipping from him. ‘Good to see you again, Rosamond. Make yourself at home before you do anything else. I’ve got some writing to do for a couple of hours, anyway. If I don’t drop off, that is.’ He touched his arm. ‘Damn patch.’
    He was more like a newspaper editor with a new reporter than a patient with a nurse. But his manner was easy and gentle. ‘Leave Max up here, Sarah.’
    ‘Until later, then.’ I picked up the bag I’d left at the bedroom door. He raised a hand, already engrossed in whatever was on the laptop.
    ‘That new computer only arrived a few days ago. He’s been fiddling around with wifi connections,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s really perked him up. She glanced at my bag. ‘You travel light.’
    Most of the time I simply wore black or grey jersey trousers with either a beige or grey cashmere v-neck over a t-shirt. Smart enough to look professional yet comfortable.
    Other than these clothes and my underwear and toiletries my bag contained my mobile and a tablet computer. I didn’t own many other possessions.
    ‘You live like a gypsy,’ James had complained when he’d first got to know me. ‘Even this apartment of yours is like a temporary refuelling point or something.’
    I’d laughed, but taken his point. There’d been a period of time, lasting no more than a month or so, when I’d thought of moving, of finding a house with a garden. But that had all come to nothing.
    ‘I suppose you’re used to … this.’ Sarah nodded over her shoulder at the door we’d just closed and blinked hard, a chink of emotion showing in her neatly made-up features.
    ‘I’ve had plenty of experience, but you never get used to all of it. You shouldn’t, really.’ I suppose I’m like a kind of midwife for the dying. I hope so. Rather than help them arrive, I help them leave. I never hurry the pace of the departure, though. And my loyalty is always to the patient rather than anyone else. I hoped I understood this properly myself.
    She paused, frowning, outside the door next to Benny’s. For a moment I thought I was to sleep in there and clenched my suitcase handle. Sarah opened the door and looked inside. ‘I heard something in there. Probably a bird hitting the window.’
    Or a ghost, letting me know it was aware of my presence at Fairfleet.
    Sarah closed the door, allowing me a glimpse of neatly arranged shoes under the dressing table, and a well-ordered arrangement of make-up and perfume on the dressing table. Her own bedroom.
    We followed the landing round to the right. Sarah opened a door. A west-facing room. In the evening pink light would flood in, warming the ivory walls.
    ‘It’s lovely, thank you.’ I placed my suitcase on the bed, beside two thick and obviously new ecru towels. Sarah had a gift for making rooms look welcoming. The wooden panelling had been left to speak for itself, the rest of the room was muted and neutral, except for the bluebell-coloured quilt on the bed, which matched the blue trim on the curtains. Sarah had piled new magazines on the small desk and arranged freesias in a square Perspex vase on the dressing table.
    Four small candles in stainless-steel holders sat on a mirrored tile on the dressing table. I couldn’t bear to have candles in my bedroom. I’d hide them away.
    ‘If you’ve got everything you need, I’ll let you unpack.’ She reached the door and turned back. ‘Oh …’
    I stopped, hand still opening the wooden doors on the wall beside the dressing table.
    ‘I was just going to tell you about the hidden wardrobe, but you’re too quick for me!’
    ‘Pure fluke.’ I hoped I sounded casual. She left me to my unpacking.
    ‘You won’t be able to get away with it,