demanded her full attention. The job combined her regularly updated secretarial skills with her love of research, and Laura enjoyed gathering information from the Internet and institutions like Reuters, and the subsequent collation of reports; even the sorties into the frenzy of the trading floor afterwards to deliver them.
Evenings were occupied with friends from the bank for a drink and a snack after work, or with a swim in her building’s pool and a workout in the gym. The infuriatingly restless nights were the worst problem. Laura ground her teeth as she tossed and turned into the small hours. If insomnia was a side effect of having a lover, she was glad she’d never had one before. Not that she’d ever had Domenico in the first place, of course. He probably used the same routine with every woman he sweet-talked into bed.
When Abby rang to say goodbye before she went off to France, Isabel took over the phone to announce that she’d booked a fortnight’s holiday in the Lake District with her colleague and friend, Janet Fenton.
‘Picturesque hotel, good food, and lots of walking to burn it off,’ said Isabel. ‘By the way, Fen tells me that your Domenico’s coming to the wedding.’
‘He’s not mine, Mother.’
‘He hasn’t rung, then?’
‘No. So you and Janet take care in the Lakes, Mother. Steer clear of holiday romances.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing!’
Sleep caught up with Laura when she least wanted it, and to her fury she slept late on the Thursday morning. She shot out of bed, threw on her clothes, and with no time for coffee raced to the station, trod on a loose paving stone and fell flat on her face with such a smack she saw stars when she finally managed to sit upright. Shaken and hideously embarrassed, she sat very still on the kerb for a moment, checking that her teeth were intact. When her head stopped spinning she staggered up to collect the scattered contents of her handbag and almost fell again as pain shot through her ankle. Breathing heavily, she put her weight on her good foot as she leaned against a lamp post to rummage for tissues to mop up the blood pouring down her face.
‘I say, are you all right?’ said a voice, and Laura looked round to see a young man in a City suit peering at her. ‘I saw you fall. Hellish tumble. Can I help?’
‘That’s very kind of you. If you can see my phone anywhere I’ll call a taxi and get myself to a hospital,’ said Laura shakily.
Her good Samaritan found the phone in the gutter and broke the bad news that it was broken. He used his own to ring for a taxi, then handed it over so Laura could contact her work, and afterwards, to her surprise, even insisted on waiting with her until it arrived. Laura thanked him warmly as he helped her into the cab, grateful for his help.
The A & E department was packed. Laura hobbled to Reception to check in, then took a seat to wait until she was assessed by a triage nurse who warned of a three-hour wait to see a doctor. By the time Laura was finally examined she had a pounding headache, her ankle was throbbing violently and she could barely see over the swelling below her left eye. But to her relief no fractures showed up on the X-rays the doctor ordered. Her skull and face were intact, her ankle was neither broken nor sprained, only badly wrenched, and when it was bound up she was given painkillers and pronounced free to go. Laura rang for a taxi from the public telephone and, desperate for fresh air, went outside, shoeless, to sink down on a bench to wait, then stiffened in dismay when she saw a familiar white-coated figure approaching, fair hair ruffled, boyish face frowning in concern.
‘Laura?’ said Dr Edward Lassiter. ‘Good God! What the hell happened to you? Were you mugged? Has someone seen you?’
‘Hello, Edward,’ she said coolly. ‘I had a fall on my way to work. I’ve just been X-rayed, but I didn’t break anything. I didn’t know you’d transferred.’ Or she would have gone to another hospital.
‘Started here last week.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m on duty, otherwise I’d drive you home.’
‘No need. I’ve rung for a taxi. It should be here any minute.’
He took her hand. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call round to see you later—’
‘Thank you, but I won’t be there. I’m going home to Stavely.’ Laura detached her hand as a taxi drew up and with a feeling of escape let him help her into it, knowing from the look on his face that she’d offended Edward again, but feeling too ill to worry about it.
When she got in she took a long look in the bathroom mirror and faced facts. She was a total mess. An ugly scab bisected her eyebrow, one side of her swollen face was grazed from half-shut eye to sore chin, and due to the ankle and various other contact points on her body she ached all over. But none of it mattered. The major tragedy was not only missing her best friend’s wedding, but the chance of seeing Domenico again. Tears poured down her face at the thought, but they stung her grazed cheek so badly she mopped them up, took several deep breaths and left a message on her mother’s phone to ask for a lift from the station a day sooner than planned, and warned that her mobile was broken.
Laura packed her bag, made some tea, took some painkillers, and, after an interval with her foot up and a bag of frozen peas clamped to her face, put on dark glasses and a pair of elderly flat shoes, tied a scarf over her head to hide as much of her face as possible and went out to catch a train on the first leg of her journey home. And on the slow, painful way to the Bow Road station she steeled herself to ring Fen to report the fall.
In response to a frantic fusillade of questions Laura gave Fen the details, and eventually, after much argument, managed to convince her she would be one bridesmaid short. ‘I’m so sorry, Fen,’ she said miserably. ‘I could kick myself.’
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t! You’re in enough trouble without that, by the sound of it. I’ll pop down tonight to see you.’
Hours later Laura gave a sigh of relief when she saw her mother waiting for her on the platform at Bristol Parkway.
‘Thank goodness you got my message,’ she said gratefully, and took off the scarf and glasses. ‘I had a fall this morning. Don’t faint. It’s not as bad as it looks.’
After frantic questions, and Laura’s assurances that the requisite medical care had been taken, Isabel drove her daughter home. ‘Bed,’ she said firmly when they arrived. ‘I’ll bring your things in. Just get yourself upstairs and undress, darling.’
‘Thank you,’ said Laura gratefully. She crawled up the steep stairs and sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling too wretched to undress. ‘I feel a bit shaky,’ she admitted when her mother came in with her holdall.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Isabel as she piled pillows. ‘You should have let me drive to the flat to fetch you.’
‘I couldn’t subject you to a journey to London and back on top of your working day!’
‘I would have managed, and it would have been a lot better for you than hobbling around on the underground in that state. Why on earth didn’t you get a taxi to Paddington?’
‘Low on cash. Don’t scold!’
Isabel put an arm round her contritely. ‘Sorry, darling. Now, totter to the bathroom for a wash while I make some tea.’
In bed later, leaning back against cool pillows, her ankle propped up on another, Laura felt a little
