Page 30 of The Holiday Cottage

“When?”

“Right away.”

“Right away? You meannow? That’s out of the question. I’m at work, and I won’t finish before midnight and—”

“Miss Thorne—” his tone was scalpel sharp “—your mother has incurred some injuries. We’re running tests and depending on what those tests show she’ll need suturing and she will have to have someone with her when she goes home.”

“You’re sure she asked for me? She doesn’t normally want—” She stopped. What was she going to say?She doesn’t normally want me around.It was too embarrassing to admit that to this man, and she could already feel his judgment pulsing down the phone. He probably had loving parents, a couple of doting grandparents and maybe a wife and kids of his own. People like that didn’t understand that not everyone was so fortunate. That some families were made in hell, not Hollywood. That not every problem could be fixed, nor every sin forgiven. “She may not want me.”

“In my opinion, you should be here.”

He didn’t have a clue. He didn’t know how many times this had happened to her before. He had no idea how many taxis she’d taken across the city in the middle of the night to get to whichever hospital her mother had been taken to. And each time her mother would swear it would never happen again. Occasionally, she meant it and the phone would go quiet for a few months. But then the call would come. Sometimes from a neighbor, sometimes from the police, sometimes from a strange man her mother had picked up in the bar where she worked. The end result was always the same.

Imogen took her home, did her best to tidy up the place, filled the fridge with food (she’d learned the hard way that giving cash wasn’t a good idea) and then waited for her mother to sober up and tell her to get out of her life. Which she did. Until next time. And there was always a next time because no matter how hard she tried, Imogen couldn’t bring herself to cut those ties completely.

She believed in family, even though hers fell short of her ideals. She tried to behave the way she felt a family member should—by offering loving support, no matter how hard that sometimes was.

She was her mother’s only relative. All they had was each other. That might not mean much to her mother, but it meant a great deal to Imogen. She wouldn’t give her mother financial support because that always led to bad things, but nor would she cut her mother out of her life completely. That wasn’t what family did. Family should stick together through thick and thin. She believed that, even if her mother didn’t. And she wanted her actions to reflect her beliefs, which was why she still had contact with her mother even though most of the time it would have been more comfortable to lie on a bed of rocks. It wasn’t easy and she wasn’t blind to reality.

“Was she drunk?”

There was a pause. “If you come in, we can update you properly.”

Which probably meant she had been drunk. That wasn’t a surprise.

But this doctor was asking her to come in. He was impartial, and he believed she should be there. What tests were they running exactly? Doctors weren’t allowed to lie, were they? Hippocratic oath and all that.

She checked the time. The hospital was virtually on the way to her next event. She could take a minor detour, drop in for half an hour, talk to the doctor and then wait for her mother to tell her to get out of her life. That normally took a matter of minutes.

“I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”

She ended the call, then messaged Sophie.

“Keep client calm. I’ll be with you in an hour.”

She’d deal with her mother and still arrive at her event in good time. No problem.

7

Sara

“We should get the Christmas tree next weekend.” Sara spread butter onto toast and deftly cut it into the shape of a house. She was not going to worry about her mother driving up to London. It was ridiculous. What exactly did she think was going to happen?

“Is that mine?” Patrick sounded amused. “Nice house.”

Sara stared at the toast in disbelief as she realized what she’d done. “Sorry. I was operating on automatic.”

“I know. You obviously have a lot on your mind.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you want to offload some of that anxiety that is making your forehead crease?”

“No, but thanks.”

“Fine. But at least drink your coffee. You know you’re not human until you’ve had your first cup of the day.” He put a cup down next to her. “Drink. It might help.”

She felt his hand on her back, the gentle rub of his fingers against her spine.

Comfort.

She could never hide any of her moods from him. Happy, sad, worried, thoughtful—he recognized them all. And she was grateful for that. She’d known him since she was four years old and they still had the same circle of friends they’d had back then. Lissa, Shona, Paul and Rick. They’d met in kindergarten and moved through school together as a tight-knit group until university had finally forced them to take separate paths. Paul and Rick had got together almost immediately and now ran the bookshop in the village. Sara and Patrick had lived together and then married a few years later. Lissa now had her own interior design business and was based in London, but she’d renovated a cottage in the village and came down once a month for “respite” as she called it, and also to see friends and her younger brother Miles, the vet. Lissa threw stylish dinner parties, with elegant food and extravagant flower displays courtesy of Shona, who was a florist. Shona mostly handled weddings and large events and traveled a great deal, but every three months the six of them got together no matter what and caught up on life. Lissa provided the food and the elegance, Shona the flowers, Sara and Patrick the wine, and Paul and Rick were the entertainment. They kept everyone supplied with their favorite books, and Sara knew for a fact that the closest Shona got to “Christmas shopping” was sending a list of people, ages and interests through to Paul and Rick. They chose an appropriate book, gift wrapped it and delivered the whole box back to Shona to mail. Since she was on that list, Sara had started dropping hints to Paul about the book she’d like from Shona. Which reminded her, she still needed to do that.

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