Billy watched as Meredith took the stairs slowly, one hand on the banister. Age was creeping up on them all—how had she not noticed that?
When Meredith was safely at the top, Billy wandered back to the kitchen and picked the kettle up again. Switching it on, she glanced at the clock—almost midnight. Her bag was on the counter where she’d left it earlier.
She rooted through it and found her phone—battery dead. “Damn,” she said just as the kettle began to hiss into life. The charger was at the bottom of the bag and she dug it out, plugged it in, and watched—dead screen—then the tiny green light.
When the cocoa was ready, she took one up for Meredith, gently knocking on the door before she pushed it open—and stopped.
Meredith was sound asleep, snoring gently, covers pulled up to her chin. Billy smiled, crossed the room, and switched off the light before quietly backing out and closing the door.
She considered for a moment just going to her room and climbing into bed herself—she was exhausted. But one thought remained in her head: Rosa. She wanted to check her phone for any messages and to send one herself. Rosa would wait up for as long as she could, she knew that.
And she had two mugs of hot chocolate to drink, didn’t she?
Chapter seventy-three
At the bottom of the stairs, her stomach rumbled and let her know she’d made the right decision to come back down.
She sipped the cocoa from the mug in her hand and headed back into the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge for cheese, butter, and an onion that lurked at the bottom of the vegetable box.
There was bread in the bread bin, and she cut two healthy slices. The butter was rock solid, so she gave up trying to soften it and shaved curls over the bread instead.
Next, she sliced some onion and cheese, covering the bread and butter.
She pulled the drawer free on the air fryer and laid each piece down gently on the rack, then set the timer. She checked her phone again. Nothing but that stubborn green light. Not that it mattered, Rosa would most likely be asleep by now, although tomorrow was a Saturday and she wouldn’t have work, so she might be up?
Imogen would have work, though—the new café job. Knowing Rosa, she would be awake early to make sure Immy got there okay.
Sipping more of her drink, the day replayed itself in jagged flashes, repeatedly looping back to the way her heart had beaten out of her chest when her mum had said the words ‘heart attack’.
The journey had been easy enough at least. Carl had met her at the airport and driven her straight to her parents’ home to drop her bag off. Then he’d guided her back to the car and driven her straight to the hospital where Meredith was sitting stoically by Schultz’s bedside.
It was family only allowed while Schultz was indie Intensivstation, Austria’s version of ICU. And despite Carl being as close to family as any man could get, he left them to it.
Billy let her thoughts wander to the wires and the beeps and the back and forth of doctors and nurses, all rapidly speaking in German and then more slowly in English.
A suspected heart attack had quickly been assessed as an actual heart attack. Schultz looked smaller in the bed, his bald head shiny with sweat.
When the air fryer beeped, she plated her meal and took it and the mug through to the lounge, then sank onto the sofa.
She’d barely taken a bite before her eyelids grew heavy. She rubbed her face, then gulped down a mouthful of cocoa and took another bite, chewing slowly as she decompressed the day. Whatever adrenaline had been holding her up all day, finally gave in.
She woke with a start.
The plate was still sitting on her lap, the half-eaten piece of toast falling from her fingers to land on it.
Her eyes squinted in the half-light and found the clock on the mantel—2:20a.m. A noise startled her—tap, tap, tap.
Billy put the plate down on the sofa and stood, stretching her back as she tried to work out what the noise was and why it had woken her—not that it was a bad thing—she needed to go to bed and get a proper night’s sleep.
There it was again.
This time, though, the sensor light sprang on. Someone was outside.
She’d never been scared here, but at this hour, with the dark pressing at the windows, a shiver ran through her.
Fortunately, common sense prevailed. What kind of intruderknockedin the middle of the night? She crept along the hallway to the door and leaned close.
“Who is it?” she whispered—not that her mother would wake up if she’d taken one of her pills.
