The Love of My Life(93)

Leo. It’s Leo.

‘What?’ I stare at him, as he jogs down the final part of the hill. ‘How are you . . . Why – I mean, what? How did you get here so soon?’

‘I left at 7.15. Is she OK?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Good. Right. You stay out here. There’s an ambulance coming, but they’ll need guiding. I think they’ll have to drive across the golf course.’

‘I – Leo, where’s Ruby?’

He points to his car, parked haphazardly by a golf green. I must have walked past it. ‘Fast asleep on the back seat,’ he says. ‘She doesn’t know what’s going on. I’ve been here less than ten minutes.’

I stand in the doorway, watching in confusion, amazement, as my husband goes back in and crouches down next to Janice.

‘Janice,’ he says, quietly. He touches her arm, and she opens an eye.

‘I’m tired,’ she says. ‘Your wife was here. She’s a lot louder than you.’

Her voice is laboured, but it’s still the Janice I remember.

‘She is,’ Leo agrees. ‘Now, let me help get you comfortable.’ He moves her forward, gently, so he can stack another pillow underneath her.

I watch him, transfixed.

‘There.’ He pulls up a little stool and sits next to her. He takes her hand. ‘There’s help coming,’ he tells her.

‘I don’t want help.’

‘I understand. You can discuss that with the paramedics. But I had to call them.’

Leo watches Janice, as the minutes tick by. He leans close to her at one point, I think to check her breathing. ‘It’s OK,’ he says again.

His voice is so gentle. I’ve never loved him so much.

As if hearing my thoughts, he looks up. ‘Wait outside,’ he says. ‘So you can be seen. By the ambulance. By Ruby.’

*

Once Leo has shown the paramedics the pill packets, and told them what little he knows, he comes to join me outside.

The coastal grass sways on the breeze and the sea is sparkling, and the child with the kite has finally had success. It soars high over the beach, dipping and slicing through the warm air while the little boy screams with excitement.

Leo stands above me. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

I have no idea how I am. He sits down, and neither of us says a word.





Chapter Sixty-Three


LEO


Jeremy and Charlie are still at the hospital. We have no news yet, and a doctor friend has warned it could be two days before we know if Janice will survive.

Emma and I are sitting outside the Rothschilds’ holiday house. The sky is darkening but the odd cloud glows pink near the horizon, and the temperature is still tolerable.

We can’t see a great deal of sea from here, but the view from the room Ruby’s staying in is outstanding. She’ll be up at 5 a.m., wanting to go to the beach.

John is wandering around the garden, sniffing and peeing on things.

I had only an hour’s sleep this morning before Ruby arrived in my bed at quarter to six, wanting pancakes. She remembered Emma coming in a few hours before. She didn’t seem bothered to learn that Mummy had gone looking for crabs again.

We went downstairs and I started the pancake batter. Ruby changed her mind. ‘I really want banana porridge,’ she sighed, zooming her toy motorbike across the cluttered worktop.

Eventually, after she’d changed her mind twice more and had a minor tantrum, we settled for toast in front of Sarah and Duck. Emma would kill me if she caught me feeding Ruby breakfast in front of the telly. But it wasn’t even 7 a.m., I’d been up nearly all night, and I didn’t care.

I texted Kelvin and Sheila to say I was ‘working from home’ again.

Sheila called me straight back, in spite of the hour. ‘What’s the latest?’

I left Ruby and went into the kitchen to tell her.

‘Oh, God,’ Sheila said. ‘This is awful, Leo. The whole thing. I must call Jeremy.’

‘Do. He looked pretty bad last night. Although be warned, he’s on air right now.’

‘Do you think there’s any likelihood Emma’s hunch is correct?’ Sheila asked. ‘About this shed?’

‘Not really. Nobody goes and spends two weeks in a shed when they’ve got a lovely house up the road. But I suppose nothing about the way Janice has conducted herself in the last few weeks has been predictable.’

Sheila didn’t reply.

‘Hello?’

‘I’m thinking,’ she said.

I perked up for a moment. Maybe Sheila could use her espionage capabilities again. Type Janice’s name into some remote MI5 computer and have a satellite send us precise co-ordinates of her location.

I heard her scrabble around on the other end of the phone. ‘Just looking on Google Maps,’ she said. ‘Tell me exactly where this hut is?’

I opened Maps myself and directed her to the little square that marked the spot.

‘Yes,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Looks bloody unlikely to me.’

Then: ‘What about these glamping cabins?’

‘What glamping cabins?’

Sheila sighed. ‘The glamping cabins about three hundred metres from the hut Emma’s gone to search.’