‘You see? Go back to bed—Lucas, please,’ she begged, and flushed at the look he gave her.
‘For you, Emily, anything,’ he assured her and, still coughing, went off towards his bedroom.
She went to the kitchen to make tea and toast the crumpets she’d included in her shopping. When she took the tray into the bedroom Lucas was waiting, bolt upright against neatly stacked pillows in his newly tidied bed. His ashen face sported streaks of hectic colour, which worried Emily very much, but she smiled at him as she put the tray down.
‘Feeling better?’
‘Not a lot,’ he admitted, and gave a rueful look at the dish of crumpets. ‘I hate to be ungrateful, Emily, but I’m not hungry.’
‘OK,’ she said without fuss. ‘Just the tea, then.’
He downed the tea thirstily, then lay back against the pillows as though the mere exertion of drinking had exhausted him. ‘I feel so bloody feeble. Were you like this?’
‘Yes. But my mother called the doctor, who gave me antibiotics for my chest infection. So I soon got better,’ she added significantly. ‘Look, Lucas, your temperature’s up and I can hear you wheezing from here. You need a doctor. Do you have one I can ring?’
‘It’s just flu,’ he said testily. ‘I don’t need a doctor—’ He broke off to cough again and Emily handed him a box of tissues, then looked at him in question as the phone rang.
‘Answer it, please,’ he gasped.
Emily picked up the receiver and said a cautious hello.
‘Alice Tennent here,’ said an attractive voice. ‘Is Lucas there?’
Emily gave the receiver to Lucas, who lay with sweat beading his forehead as he battled to control his cough. He croaked a hoarse greeting, then went off into another paroxysm of coughing and handed the receiver back. ‘My sister—explain,’ he gasped.
‘I’m afraid your brother’s feeling very unwell, Miss Tennent,’ said Emily.
‘Sounds as though he’s dying! Has he seen a doctor?’
‘He refuses to call one,’ she said, defiant as she met the glare in the invalid’s eyes. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’s got a chest infection.’
‘Right. Hand him over, please.’
Emily thrust the phone at Lucas, then watched in some amusement when he disagreed in violent protest with his sister before handing the phone back. ‘She wants to speak to you,’ he growled.
‘Who, exactly, am I speaking to?’ asked Alice Tennent pleasantly.
‘Emily Warner, your brother’s cleaner,’ she said baldly, ignoring the look of impotent wrath on the invalid’s face. ‘I stayed on this afternoon because I was worried about your brother.’
‘That’s extraordinarily kind of you! Look, Mrs Warner—’
‘Miss, actually.’
‘Right. I’ve just told Lucas that if he won’t behave I’ll send Mother up to look after him. In which case she will certainly catch the bug herself. Naturally Lucas won’t hear of that. I’d come myself but I’m ringing from Italy. Can you contact a doctor and stay with Lucas until he arrives?’
Emily had no hesitation. ‘Of course, Miss Tennent. If the doctor thinks it necessary I can even stay the night.’
‘How very kind. Thank you. That’s a load off my mind. Now, put Lucas back on and I’ll read the riot act.’
But this time Lucas was surprisingly acquiescent as he listened, eyes fixed on Emily. ‘Did you mean it about staying the night?’ he demanded as he handed the phone back.
‘Of course I did.’ She picked up the tray. ‘Where will I find your doctor’s number?’
‘In the address book on my desk up in the gallery.’ He mopped at the perspiration standing out on his forehead. ‘I’ve only seen him once. Maybe he doesn’t do house calls.’
‘He’d better,’ said Emily darkly.
She stated Lucas’s problem to a receptionist, gave directions to the flat, then went back to Lucas, who by this time was looking ghastly.
‘A doctor’s coming shortly,’ she told him.
‘Dr Barnett?’ he croaked.
‘They didn’t say. Probably whoever’s on call.’ Emily eyed him with misgiving. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Not great. It hurts to breathe,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I don’t get it. I felt so much better earlier.’
Emily went into his bathroom, collected a towel, dampened a washcloth and went back to the invalid. ‘I’ll just wipe your forehead,’ she said briskly.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he protested.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But you’ll feel better if I do.’ She mopped him up, dried him off with the towel, poured water into a glass and handed it to him. ‘Down the hatch.’
‘I might be sick again,’ he protested wildly.
‘You’re sweating so much you’ll get dehydrated if you don’t drink.’
He gave in and took a few sips of water, then gave her a wry, twisted smile. ‘I bet you’re sorry as hell you stayed behind on Friday.’
‘Certainly not. I’m glad to help.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘How would you have managed otherwise?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘A question I’ve been asking myself all day, Emily Warner.’
‘I’m not sure how long the doctor will be,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I’d say another change of bedclothes was a good idea. But maybe it’s best if you stay the way you are.’
‘So he can see how poorly I am?’ he mocked.
‘Exactly.’ Her tone was casual, but underneath Emily was worried. Lucas’s forehead had been so hot the washcloth had steamed as she mopped him with it, reinforcing her fears about pneumonia. So far she’d functioned on common sense and her own experience, but committed to an overnight stay she felt in urgent need of professional advice.
‘Lucas,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m probably the only person you’ve met who doesn’t own a cellphone. May I make a phone call?’
‘Of course. Use this phone, if you like, or one of the others out there if you want privacy,’ he said, his breath rasping in his chest.
She smiled her thanks, and stayed where she was to contact Nat.
‘Hi, Emily here. I’m just letting you know I couldn’t make it this afternoon, and I won’t be back home tonight.’
‘No need
