Gemma’s hand. “Now, promise me you’ll go straight home and talk to Duncan. You can work this out between the two of you. That’s what counts, after all.”
But when Gemma arrived home, she found Duncan in the hall, looking as if he was on his way out, and his expression didn’t augur well for a discussion.
“Where have you been?” he said, sounding irritable. “I’ve tried ringing you for ages. Toby and I wanted you to meet us for lunch. But when I couldn’t get you, I made sandwiches, and now I’ve promised to take him to the art shop because you weren’t here.”
“Oh, no. My phone.” Gemma remembered tossing it onto the seat before she went into Betty’s, and that was the last time she’d thought of it. Had it fallen onto the floor of the car and turned itself off? “I think I might have lost it.”
“You think?” He frowned at her. “What do you mean, you think? Either you lost it or you didn’t.”
“I can’t…remember.” The room wavered. She sank down onto the hall bench, knocking the dogs’ leads to the floor. “I-I don’t feel very well. My head’s gone all fuzzy.”
“Gemma?”
At least that was what she thought he said. His lips moved, but a buzzing sound rose like a wave, drowning the sound of his voice. Then his face receded to the end of a white tunnel and blinked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
– Gilda O’Neill,
The next thing Gemma knew, Duncan was stroking her cheek and saying her name, urgently. Then he turned his head and shouted for Kit and Toby.
She winced. “Ouch. Don’t shout. It hurts my head.”
“Gemma, are you okay? What happened there?” His face was inches away, his eyes intent.
“Just a bit dizzy,” she mumbled. “I’m all right.” She liked his hand on her face. It felt warm, and she pressed her cheek against it, closing her eyes against the light. But he tightened his grasp, using his other hand to turn her head.
“Open your eyes, Gemma. Look at me,” he said sharply.
“The light makes my head hurt,” she protested, but complied.
“Your pupils aren’t normal.” He sounded as if he was angry with her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
The boys came thundering down the stairs, the dogs at their heels, barking excitedly at the commotion. The noise made Gemma’s head feel like it was going to split open. She covered her ears, so that when Duncan spoke, his voice came through fuzzily.
“I’m taking your mum to hospital. Kit, I want you to look after Toby until we get back. I’ll ring you.”
“I don’t want to go to hospital,” said Gemma, pushing Duncan’s hands away. “I hate that place.”
“No argument.” He slipped an arm round her waist and lifted her, and she found that in spite of her resistance, she needed the support.
“I’ll start the car.” Kit scooped the keys off the floor, where Gemma must have dropped them. She caught a flash of his face, white and frightened, as he went out the door.
“Kit, I’m fine,” she tried to say, but it came out a thread of sound, and as Duncan started to walk her towards the door, the world began to go white and fuzzy again.
After that, she let Duncan fold her gently into the car, but she managed a smile at Kit as they drove away.
Then it was a blur of glass doors and gurneys and long, ugly corridors. Duncan stayed with her, holding her hand. At last they were through with scans and exams, and a young, female doctor came into the curtained cubicle to speak to them.
“The bad news is that you do have a concussion, Mrs. James,” she said, and Gemma didn’t correct her on the name or the marital state. “The good news is that there’s no sign of subdural hematoma,” the doctor went on. “But you should have come in sooner. Head injuries can be quite dangerous. Now, you’re going to need to stay quiet for three or four days”-she must have seen Gemma start to protest because she said more firmly-“and that means bed rest. We don’t want to see you back here. We’ll give you something for the headache that will help the pain and reduce the swelling as well.”
“But I can’t-”
“I’ll see that she stays in bed.” Duncan’s tone brooked no argument. He took down the doctor’s final instructions, then rang Kit as she was being checked out.
Gemma made one last feeble attempt at resistance when he brought a wheelchair. “I don’t need-”
“Hospital rules. It’s the only way you’re getting out of here.”
She shuddered and let him help her into the wheelchair and then into the car. When he had climbed in beside her, she said, “I hate that place,” and was mortified to find that her voice was shaky. “And I’m sorry you’re angry with me.”
He turned to look at her in surprise. “Angry with you? Don’t be daft, Gemma. It’s myself I’m angry with. I should never have let you go round with that lump on your head without having it checked out. You have an excuse because you weren’t thinking clearly. I have none but stupidity. And believe me”-he gave her a dark look-“I’m going to make sure you do what the doctor said.”
“But I promised I’d take the boys to see Mum tomorrow-”
“I’ll take them, as long as you get someone to come and stay with you. Maybe Hazel or Melody. Or Betty.” His voice had softened, and she saw the glint of a smile. “Otherwise”-he paused while he eased the car out into Ladbroke Grove-“you’ll be running laps.”
“Hazel’s working. I’ll ring Melody.” She’d said it so quickly that Duncan gave her a suspicious glance. Gemma settled back in her seat, deciding she’d just have to make the call when he’d left her alone. Fuzzy headed she might be, but she wasn’t about to tell him she had an ulterior motive. Not yet.
Melody arrived about ten on Sunday morning. Earlier, Gemma had got up, made the bed, put on shorts and a T-shirt, then been ordered back to bed by Duncan. She’d compromised by staying dressed and propping herself up on the bed with just a throw for a cover. To tell the truth, she didn’t feel up to much, and had dozed off again when she heard the bell and voices in the hall.
Duncan called out, “Melody’s here, and we’re off,” and a few moments later Melody came into the bedroom.
“Wow,” she said. “This is lovely,” and Gemma realized Melody had never been upstairs. Nor did she ever remember seeing Melody in anything as casual as the jeans and cotton print top she wore today, with her dark hair tousled and her cheeks pink from heat and sun. Even when Melody had come to their dinner party in the spring, she’d worn a white silk blouse and black trousers, an outfit that had seemed an extension of her uniformlike work clothes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Gemma agreed. “I suppose there are worse places to be confined.” She nodded towards the slipper chair in the corner. “Sit, please.” Suddenly, she felt a little awkward in such intimate circumstances with this unleashed Melody who seemed so different from the woman she had thought she’d known.
But Melody pulled the slipper chair closer to the bed and perched on it, showing no hint of discomfort. “Columbia Road was brilliant,” she said. “I want a garden. Or at least a patio or a balcony with room to plant things.”
“But surely you’ve had a garden.” Gemma, whose only previous experience with a garden had been a scraggly square of lawn at the house she’d owned in Leyton with her ex-husband, Rob, tended the terrace and patio garden of the Notting Hill house with much trepidation, and with considerable help from Duncan and boys.
“I grew up in a Kensington town house. With topiaries. My grandparents-my mum’s parents-have a very
