“He should have taken you to the hospital.” Milly stood up and gently angled her mother’s face so that she could take a closer look. “You have bruising around your eye. How did I not notice that before now?”

“It’s probably only just appeared. Or maybe it’s the light. Don’t fuss, Milly. I’m fine. I was wearing a helmet.”

“You should have said something and not let me go on and on about my problems. I’m going to drive you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. But I think I will have an early night.” Connie stood up, and the room started to spin. She reached out to grab the table.

“Mum?” Milly grabbed her arms firmly and guided her back down to the chair.

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

She felt very strange. The world around her was blurred, and she could hear a voice talking to her urgently, but she had no idea where she was or what was going on.

She heard someone saying Mum, Mum!

And then everything went black.

Chapter 23Nicole

It was pain that woke her. The hammering in her head and sore, gritty eyes. The exhausted, emotional hangover that came from too much crying.

She groped for the water she always kept by the bed and then remembered that she wasn’t in her little room in Milly’s boathouse.

She opened her eyes and saw Joel dozing in a chair in the corner of the room.

She sat up, disorientated, and he opened his eyes and yawned.

“You’re awake. Shame. I hoped you might sleep a little longer.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was obviously struggling to focus. “You look terrible, Wendy. I’d better call hair and makeup.”

It was astonishing that even in her current state, with everything that had happened, he could still coax a smile from her. Or maybe she was just relieved to wake up and find she wasn’t alone. Whenever there was a crisis in her life, she was almost always alone.

“My head is exploding. Have you been sleeping in the chair all night?”

He glanced at his watch. “We were still talking at two and it’s only five now, so I wouldn’t really call that a night. I generally need more than three hours’ sleep to be able to function. I’ll get you painkillers for your head, and maybe you’ll go back to sleep again.”

He levered himself out of the chair, and she noticed several dark smudges on his now crumpled shirt.

“What happened to your shirt?”

He glanced down at himself. “You cried on it. I think you were wearing mascara. Not that I’m an expert on such things, but I’m guessing it wasn’t waterproof.”

That’s right. She’d cried on him. For hours.