“No.” She wasn’t about to go into her mother’s history, the medication she must not have been taking, after all. She swiped the screen on her phone and typed Ruby Ward St Pancras into the search engine. The result came up instantly—a women’s psychiatric intensive care unit. Emily quickly swiped off the screen and looked out the window instead. She could feel each painful thud of her heart.
“Is she in critical condition?” Owen asked quietly, and Emily just shrugged.
“I really don’t know. They just said I should come as soon as I could.”
“I’m sorry.” To her shock he reached over and briefly put his large, warm hand over hers; it was just for a second, but the touch felt even more intimate than their kiss.
Their kiss…no, she couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think about anything. She just needed to keep her mind blank and numb, at least until she knew what had happened. What she was dealing with.
Owen must have gauged her mood correctly because he lapsed into a silence that was only broken when they’d reached the outskirts of London, and he asked her to navigate to the hospital by the sat nav on her phone. Housed in a former workhouse, the hospital had an impressive Victorian air, but as Owen drove towards the Huntley Centre, neither of them missed the sign for psychiatric care.
“You can just drop me off in front,” Emily said rather brusquely, and Owen looked at her in surprise.
“Let me at least come in with you. You’re in no state to face this on your own.”
“I’m fine,” Emily protested, and once again Owen reached for her hand. She wished he’d stop doing that, even as she wanted him to never stop.
“Emily, you haven’t been able to stay still since we got into this van.”
“I have—” And yet even as she spoke, she knew he was right. She’d been jiggling her foot and picking at the skin around her nails for the last hour, feeling like no more than a tight ball of nerves.
“I’ll just walk in with you,” Owen continued in that steady voice she realised she could get used to. Could like, or even crave. “And I’ll stay in the waiting room or wherever. Don’t worry, I’m not going to pry.”
But he already knew too much. Tears crowded her eyes and formed a lump in her throat but she forced it all down. “All right,” she relented rather ungraciously. Then she turned and looked out the window, because she didn’t think she could bear the sympathetic look on his face for a second longer.
Owen parked the car—the car park was near-empty at this hour—and then they made their way into the Huntley Centre. There were some plastic chairs in the foyer, and thankfully he told her he’d stay there while Emily headed for the Ruby Ward—and whatever waited for her there.
*
Owen sipped a cup of wretched coffee as he waited for Emily to return. He’d been sitting on a hard plastic chair in the entrance of the Huntley Centre for the better part of an hour, and his eyes felt gritty with fatigue. Whatever he was feeling, though, he knew Emily had to feel worse.
He wasn’t an idiot, and it was obvious that this was a psychiatric facility, and that Emily didn’t seem at all surprised to be there. It explained her hurry to answer the phone, and the panicked way she’d answered. Owen had been feeling a bit bemused, that she’d broken their kiss to take a phone call, but it was certainly starting to make sense now.
And yet nothing made sense. Emily’s mother in a psychiatric unit? And where was her father? What about that oh-so-privileged upbringing? Owen was starting to suspect he might have got the entirely wrong end of the stick when it came to Emily David, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.
But then that was something he didn’t need to think about now. Right now he just needed to think about Emily, and what was best for her. That protective instinct he’d been fighting against had kicked in big-time when she’d taken that call, and he’d realised how frightened she was. Unfortunately, that protective instinct hadn’t helped him—or anyone else—in the past.
With a sigh and then a wince, Owen drained the rest of his lukewarm, mud-coloured coffee. It was two in the morning, and he had no idea how long he’d be sitting here, or what would happen when Emily came back.
And then there she was, walking down the corridor on stiff legs, her expression stony and closed. Owen rose from his chair, crumpling the paper cup in one hand.
“How is your mum?”
Emily’s shoulders twitched in what Owen thought was meant to be a shrug.
“She’s sleeping now. They said I should come back in the morning.”
“Then you need a place to sleep tonight.” She stared at him blankly, and Owen thought she had to be in shock. “Do you have friends…?” he prompted, thinking she could call someone and kip on their sofa. She’d lived in London until a week ago, after all. But Emily let out a strange huff of laughter.
“No.”
Owen decided not to press. “Then you need a hotel room.” He reached for his phone and started to search. “There’s a Premier Inn just around the corner. I’ll take you there.” Emily didn’t reply. She still had that blank look in her eyes, and so Owen took her by the elbow, steering her gently towards the door.
She came unresistingly, as meek as a child, silent and accepting. Her docility frightened him, and it felt like a punch in the gut. He’d seen Emily David reserved, and annoyed, and flushed with passion, but he’d never seen her like this, almost as if she were a husk of a person, unaware of him or her surroundings as he led her back to the van.
They drove in silence, Emily staring blankly ahead, to the Premier
