Whatever You Love by Louise Doughty Read Free Book Online

his file, acutely aware of how intently he was looking at me, and aware that neither of us was attempting a wisecrack of any sort. It was stalemate. In the formal scheme of our relationship – patient and physiotherapist – I was in the position of power, but it was as if we were now balanced precariously on either end of a see-saw, each of us waiting for the other to shift their weight. I sensed it was up to me to indicate whether or not I would welcome a further advance on his part.
    I closed his file. ‘I sometimes shave patients myself,’ I said. ‘It’s quite difficult to reach your own back and you’re very hairy. Do you have anyone at home who could do it for you?’
    He pulled a face, lifted his hands to show me his palms were empty, then let them drop. ‘No one.’
    ‘Neither do I,’ I said quickly, drawing breath immediately afterwards. Strictly speaking, that was not a piece of information that he needed.
    His smile seemed to take about five minutes and stretch from one wall of my office to the other. His teeth were neat and white.
    I was twirling the biro between my fingers as we looked at each other. All at once, it slipped my grasp and somersaulted across the desk. I made a clumsy attempt to grab at it.
    ‘Do you often drop your biro?’ he asked, still smiling.
    ‘How’s the pen factory?’ I said.
    ‘Great,’ he said. ‘I’ve been promoted. I get free pens. I’ll get you some if you like. You obviously lose them quite a lot.’
    ‘Why didn’t you call?’ I asked. ‘Is that a euphemism?’
    ‘The pens? Absolutely. Why did you run off?’ he replied. ‘You’re always running off.’
    ‘I didn’t,’ I said, hunting self-consciously for the biro amongst my paperwork.
    ‘You did,’ he said, ‘but if you shave my back I’ll forgive you. Let’s do it at your place. Maybe we should go now.’
    ‘My place is a mess.’
    ‘I’ll help you tidy up.’
    I sat back in my seat and looked at him. How had this happened?
    We looked at each other then he said, his voice thoughtful and soft, almost as if he was talking to himself, ‘You’re so slender. I’d probably snap you like a twig.’

    His smile died – he stared at me, that unmistakable, brown- eyed stare. I felt my lips part, almost imperceptibly. I looked away. I smiled at the wall, then looked back and, yes, of course, he was smiling too and I felt dizzy with lust, wildly happy and very confused. ‘Your front teeth are slightly longer than your canines,’ I said. ‘Has anyone ever told you that?’
    ‘Is that good or bad?’
    I finally located the biro, which had managed to slip between two sheets of paper. I made another note, closed his file, then looked at him and said something I had wanted to say to him ever since we first met that time in a pub, all those years ago. ‘My name is Laura.’

3
     
     
    We had sex that evening, up against a tree in the park. I had never done it on a first date before. I had never had sex like that on any sort of date – the boys I had gone out with previously were nothing like David. Physiotherapists tend to attract men who want mothering – and nothing could have been further from David Needham’s mind.
    *
     
    After we had finished the professional part of our encounter, in my consulting room that afternoon, David looked at his watch and said, ‘What time can you get out of here?’
    ‘Five o’clock,’ I replied.
    ‘I’ll wait in Reception,’ he said, rose from his chair and left. Most men would have suggested it, rather than stating it. Most men would have waited outside the building, or arranged to meet me somewhere else entirely. He knew what he wanted. He didn’t care what anyone thought.
    At two minutes past five, we got into my car, parked behind the hospital. I felt a vague unease, based entirely on social propriety, that I might somehow lose face if we went straight back to my flat. ‘I’m going to take you to my local,’ I said, as I started the engine. ‘Does