The doctor began on Honor’s neck. ‘We all do. It’s not as if he has a full-time job. And what else are little brothers for?’ She raised her voice. ‘Martyn?’
He must have been waiting in the hallway because it was only a moment before Honor’s rescuer took a step into the room. It was hard to think of him as anyone’s ‘little’ brother as he had to duck his head to get through the doorway. His stubble was as dark as the straight hair that fell either side of his face and flicked across his forehead above near-black eyes, like a Manga character. Exotic cheekbones and a sculpted jaw; he didn’t look remotely like his mousey, middle-sized, middle-aged sister. ‘I can go now,’ he said, ‘but tomorrow I start a job that will last five days.’
Dr Mayfair pretended amazement. ‘Five whole days? All at once?’
The eyes glistened with amusement. ‘Three, really. The other two are for travelling.’
‘I thought five was a lot, for you.’
Honor was shocked. A guy only being able to get three days of work? It seemed mean to tease him about it. But Martyn seemed able to shrug off his sister’s barbs and his dark gaze shifted to Honor. ‘So, what sort of thing do you want apart from the ibuprofen? Bread? Tea? Milk? Maybe some ready meals?’
A new wave of nausea swelled Honor’s ribcage and, as Dr Mayfair had finished with the cream, she began to shift herself carefully towards the pillows, desperate to drop her head on to their cool, clean softness. ‘That is so great of you. Maybe some plain cookies. I don’t feel like real food.’
He hesitated.
She thought back to all the summers she’d spent around London with her dad, Karen, Zachary and Jessamine and the cookie/biscuit confusion in which they always found themselves. ‘McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits,’ she specified. And, with a sigh of relief, closed the eyes that felt hung with ten-pound weights.
* * *
She must have flickered into sleep for a few moments because Honor was alone in her room when next she heard the doctor’s calm, clear voice. It was coming from the other side of the door. And she was teasing her baby brother again. ‘I thought you were calling me out to minister to a girlfriend — so I’d finally get to meet one.’
Martyn gave a deep, incredulous laugh. ‘Yeah, right. I invite a girlfriend over from America andlet her rent Clarissa’s place? You think that’s going to end well, Clarissa having the perfect excuse to turn up at the door at will?’
Dr Zoë gave a theatrically regretful sigh. ‘I can see the disaster potential. But we all think it would be nice to meet one or two of your personal beauty parade of women.’
‘Clarissa met Rosie.’ Martyn sounded as if he were trying not to laugh.
‘Ouch. There’s something that really didn’t end well. When Clarissa—!’
‘Exactly.’ A pause, as if they were both reflecting on the situation, whatever it could be, between Clarissa and the unknown Rosie. Then Martyn returned to the subject of Honor. ‘No, I just found the American quietly cooking. Clarissa asked me to come down. Like you, she gives me a list of jobs every time she sees me.’
Dr Mayfair’s laugh was warm and sisterly, making Honor think suddenly of her Jessamine and Zachary; she hoped that her own big-sister-act was a little heavier on the sensitivity. ‘Iknow, we put on you. But you don’t mind helping Clarissa’s tenant out, do you? I know you get fed up with the tourists, but she needs a hand.’
‘I don’t mind.’ His voice began to move away, down the hall. ‘She’s pretty. At least, the bits of her that haven’t been fried extra crispy are.’
Chapter Two
Morning. The sun glared through the window. Inch by painful inch, Honor peeled herself from the sheets. The skin of her right arm, shoulder, neck and cheek felt as if it had shrunk to fit someone two sizes smaller, stinging viciously. ‘Sonof abitch!’ she hissed.
Glugging down the last of the cold water from the white bedside table, she eased from the bed and tottered along the hall to the bathroom. The shower unit, the kind that hung over the bath, provided a deluge of water. It took a bit of experimentation to make it bearable because anything the warm side of lukewarm made her feel as if she were being basted like a Thanksgiving turkey, but then she stood for a long time, letting the flood soothe her savaged skin and trying not to wish she was at home in Hamilton Drives, where Jess would have clucked and sighed then taken care of her.
Dabbing herself dry and spreading more of Dr Mayfair’s magic cream over her boiling scarlet patches, she wondered how to dress. Certainly nothing that had to be hauled over her head — ooh, ow. No.
Sorting through a suitcase, she was able to locate a loose, pale green shirt to ease cautiously up her burned arm, ‘Ow . . . ow . . . ow . . .’ so that it burst none of the water-filled bubbles clustered as ugly as frogspawn on the crest of her shoulder. A bra was out of the question. It would be torture.
On her way to the kitchen she noticed a key glinting on the doormat by the front door. Martyn must have posted it through after letting himself out. She’d tackle bending over to retrieve it later.
The kitchen was large for a compact home, meant for eating in as well as for the preparation of food. At the side of the single-storey house — she must remember to refer to it as a bungalow— it gave a close-up view of the fence that ran between this property and the next, yet light danced through it on to yellow walls and white counters.
In the fridge, she discovered milk, cheese, eggs, pineapple juice, sunflower spread, a pre-packed salad and a cooked breast of chicken. In a cupboard: tea bags, instant coffee, wholemeal bread, sugar, McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits, crackers, several tins of soup and a box of cereal.
Best of all, on the kitchen counter along with the ibuprofen and the receipts, stood a giant container of green aloe aftersun gel — spray on. ‘What a guy,’ she marvelled. ‘Brains as well as looks.’ She unbuttoned and carefully slid down her shirt, closing her eyes as she sprayed the pulsing area that she hadn’t been able to reach with the cream. Bliss.
Buttoning up, she picked up the receipt and saw it came attached to a note in a spiky hand.
Honor,
Hope what I brought will keep you going until you can shop. Clarissa says that if you need anything else, to ring her. Hope you’re OK soon.
