The Fires of Spring

Chapter Fourteen

Author's note - I know, I know. I never update this story. I'm sorry. But it's not very popular so I only get around to it sometimes. Anyway, enjoy!

The next two days saw the Farrars comfortably re-installed in their home. They had not gone back to Bancroft; in fact, Christopher had sworn he would never go back. He was set firm on selling the magnificent old house and Lilith, despite her liking of it, did not protest.

So it was to their city penthouse they returned, with androids laden with well-wishes and gifts as their retinue. The doctors had advised Lilith that she ought to remain in hospital another week, but she had surprised them all by getting better much faster than they had anticipated. She thought it had been luck that made her mend, or the attentiveness of her physicians. Christopher, on the other hand, thought it force of will.

"Lilith's the strongest person I know," he boasted to the doctors when they marvelled at the speed of her recovery. "She's not afraid of anything or anyone and if you think a near death experience will stop her, you'd better think again."

He'd smiled at her and she, for the benefit of the doctor examining the scars on her back, accepted the kind words of her husband with a graceful smile. In reality, she did enjoy the compliment, though it set her on edge to think that Christopher genuinely felt so proud of her.

He had slunk back only hours after their dispute, and had since then gone no further than twenty steps from her. He had curled in the armchair beside her at night and slept bent into an awkward pose. He had taken every single meal with her, and whiled away his time in her company.

It had irked Lilith to no end, since his mischief had become, though kind enough, far too frequent for her liking.

"Go home and sleep in your bed," she had told him after he'd passed the first night in the armchair.

"I sleep better here," he said, and leaned his head on the chair's arm. Though it was mid-afternoon, and Lilith was not in bed nor sitting beside him, Christopher had elected to stay in the armchair. He lolled to one side and regarded her with wide, rolling eyes, all kittenish charm and coy grace. "Better here than in that empty house, all by myself."

Lilith was silent. It roused her to worry, that Christopher should feel so inclined to stay in her presence. "And you think that staying here is going to be more pleasant?"

"Are you fucking crazy?" he scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "I hate this place. It smells like death and disease, even in here."

"Then why are you here?" asked Lilith. She felt stronger that day and could now move about on her own. She was, at that moment, sorting through the wilted flowers of the veritable greenhouse sent to her by various friends and acquaintances. Removing the dying ones and rearranging those that still had life in them was something that an android could have done.

Christopher had pointed this out when he'd presented her with a handful of daffodils to add to her burgeoning array of bouquets. Lilith did it herself, however, because she liked flowers and, more importantly, it gave her an opportunity to turn her back on her husband.

She was doing so now. She did not want to see his face. She inspected a deep red carnation and replaced it with a striped red-and-white one as she avoided Christopher's gaze.

"I don't think you'll like the truth," his voice warned.

"You're right," she said. She turned back to him and she noted how his smug smile seemed very nearly to glow at her concession. She did not, therefore, go on and say that the truth was only one of the many things she disliked about Christopher. "But tell me anyway."