“Always hungry for your creations. But yes, salad isn’t very satisfying for anything, except the waistline.”
“You have a perfect waistline,” Clem said before she could stop herself.
Victoria gave a tilt of her head in acknowledgement. “Then thank the salad. It’s your fault I have to eat it. I need to counteract all this lemon drizzle with something.”
Clem recoiled playfully, clutching a hand to her chest. “My fault?” She poked a finger at Victoria’s shoulder. “You could try resisting.”
“Seriously? You think resistance is possible? That would require several months in rehab, miles away from you… and your temptations?” Victoria’s smile faltered.
“Yeah, sounds a bit extreme if you ask me.” Clem winked. “Keep eating the cake and salad; I’m sure it’s perfectly balanced.”
“I have no plans on stopping. Lemon is a fruit, after all. That’s one of my five a day.”
“I’m not sure it works like that, but—” Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “Sorry, my phone.”
She took it out and sawDadflashing onto the caller ID. “Sorry, I’d better take this.”
“No problem,” Victoria said, returning to her desk as Clem answered.
“Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?”
The line cut in and out for a moment. She checked her signal; it showed five bars. “Dad?”
“We’re at Accid— and Emer— Buckley Hos—. Your mum — X-ray.”
A jolt of panic shot through her.
“Dad, is she okay? It’s a bad line. What happened?”
Victoria was suddenly at her side. Clem hadn’t even noticed her leave her desk again.
“Dad?”
The line went dead.
“Buckley Hospital,” Clem muttered, looking at the full signal bars on her phone.
“Who’s in the hospital?” Victoria asked.
“My mum, I think.” She tried calling her father back, but a series of short, sharp beeps sounded in her ear. “Damn it.”
“What do you need, Clem?” Victoria urged.
“A lift to the hospital.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Victoria shut her laptop, grabbed her keys from her desk, her coat from her chair, and was already heading for the door.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out. I could get a taxi.”
“And wait how long for it?” Victoria muttered as she left the room. “Come on.”
Clem nodded to herself, happy to follow. Her brain was racing with thoughts of her mum. Had she had a stroke, or a heart attack? She’d heard the word ‘X-ray’, so surely that meant she was alive, right? They wouldn’t X-ray a dead person. And weren’t X-rays mainly for broken bones? More serious things needed MRIs and CT scans. She clung to that thought and that canal-related injuries weren’t uncommon.
As she reached the car, Victoria was already holding the door open for her. Clem didn’t even remember walking there.
“Get in,” Victoria gently urged her, hand on her back.
On autopilot, Clem slid into the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt into place.