Page 77 of Duplicity

‘Your daughter?’ she asks, pulling away enough to scrutinise me.

‘Yeah. Brendan doesn’t know about her,’ I add hastily, and she nods sagely.

‘There are a lot of things in this job that Brendan doesn’t need to know about, bless him. Is she in hospital?’

‘She’s in A&E with my parents. She has a congenital heart defect and she ends up there quite often,’ I tell Elaine as I grab a couple of tissues from a box beside the washbasin. I blow my nose noisily.

‘Oh my dear. I’m so sorry. That’s just tragic. How old is she?’

‘She’s eight.’

‘Well, you should go be with her then.’

My face crumples again. I can feel the panic welling up. ‘I want to, but I told her that when I took this job I might not always be able to make it to the hospital.’ I take a look at Elaine’s face, contorted with sympathy. She’s a mother and a lovely person, as straight as they come. There’s no need for politics or game-playing with her. I know I can trust her.

‘It’s only for a few more days,’ I tell her. ‘We’re going to the US to get her operated on privately. She needs a new pulmonary valve.’ I hesitate. ‘That’s why I told Brendan I had jury duty next week.’

Her lips press together in an attempt to prevent a smile. I suspect Elaine’s been working on a need-to-know basis with Brendan for a long time. ‘Well, he’s thrown his toys enough about that, hasn’t he? Let’s not add any sick kids into the mix. I told you what a total twat he was when my son was ill.’ Her facegrows more serious. ‘Listen to me, love. You do what you need to do. Brendan’s a big boy, and I’ll hold the fort when you’re away. But for now, you get yourself over to that hospital and go be with that little girl of yours, where you belong. I’ll tell Brendan you weren’t feeling well.’

‘Okay,’ I say with a watery smile. She’s such a lovely lady. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘It’s not a bother. I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I assume this job is funding the US trip?’

She raises a meaningful eyebrow, and I nod, feeling a flush of mortification sweep over my cheeks. Oh my God,Elaine knows. This is horrifying.

She pats my hand. ‘I’m well aware of the sacrifices you’re making for your daughter. She’s a very lucky girl to have a mother like you. Now, get over there and raise hell until those doctors give her everything she needs, you hear me?’

CHAPTER 37

Marlowe

The sound of my alarm is exactly as violating as a power drill to the head. I don’t actually possess the energy to sit up, so I turn my exhausted body over with great difficulty and slide out of my bed on my stomach before crawling over to where the alarm is ringing shrilly across the room. I plugged my phone in over here on purpose last night—I knew that if it was within reach from the bed I’d most likely turn it off in my sleep.

The only motivation I have to shut the damn thing up is the acute desire not to wake Tabs, who is hopefully sleeping the sleep of the exhausted next door. She was too broken to sleep in her warrior princess tent last night—or at one o’clock this morning, rather—when we got home from the hospital, instead opting to curl up in her bed. They put us through the wringer last night, with a million tests and the inevitable hours of waiting before and after each one.

I stroked her hair until she fell asleep, but I sat on the edge of her bed for hours afterwards, gazing at her in the dim light of her nightlight and willing her heart to give us just another week.

Just one more week until we can get on that plane. Until my little girl’s heart will finally be in the hands of the people who can make her suffering go away.

I turn the alarm off and reach deep within me to find the strength to get to my feet and into the shower. I am, ironically, on my hands and knees.

It’s probably not the last time I’ll find myself in this position today.

I cannot think of anything my poor, broken heart and exhausted body is less capable of this morning than having to be someone’s sex toy. No matter that Brendan is objectively drool-worthy, or that the dynamic between us has been supercharged and, dare I say, intimate since we “worked” from his home. Yesterday, I gave everything I had to ensure my child survived the night, which means that today I am broken, broken, broken.

The good news is that, after depositing Mark at the office and grabbing some files, Brendan heads out on a site visit for most of the morning, buying me some breathing space. Elaine, bless her, is very solicitous, bringing me a delicious double espresso and a pain au chocolat from the fancy, overpriced café across the square. She enquires after Tabs and is endlessly patient while I spew out all my worries. After all, I can’t vent to my parents. I sent them home when I got to the hospital yesterday evening. If nothing else, I needed them well-rested to look after Tabs today.

‘Just take it as easy as you can this morning,’ she tells me. ‘There are some beds in the basement by the doctor’s surgery. You could take a nap there?’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ I tell her, hoping that my layers of concealer will do their job and conceal the purple bruises under my eyes, even if they can’t do much about the reddened puffiness. ‘I want to get through as much as possible before we fly.’

She nods, mouth pursed. ‘Okay, but just look after yourself. You’ll be no good to that little girl of yours if you’re an exhausted shell.’

The bad news is that Brendan texts me from the building site he’s visiting.

Got us a suite at the Kingsley Canary Wharf

I’ll be there at 1

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