Jem leaned into her. “Do you think people would ship us?” she asked, and felt the low rumble of Rosie’s answering chuckle.

“The plucky paramedic and the wayward but debonair copper?” Rosie set them off walking again, slow and steady, each step perfectly coordinated. “I reckon we’d be a shoo-in.”

Chapter Fifteen

Rosie’s newspaper rustled as she licked her finger and flicked to the rest of the article. “‘The investigation is ongoing,’ blah blah, ‘Manchester Metropolitan Police are appealing for witnesses.’ Oh, and apparently we spent ‘a comfortable night at West Pennine Med.’” Scoffing, she rapped the arm of her chair. “Whoever wrote this piece has never tried kipping in one of these.” She closed the paper, her concentration waning as she watched Jem attempt to pass a comb through her hair. Despite the reporter’s claims, neither of them had slept well. A post-breakfast physio session had seen Jem walk to the nurses’ station, with the promise of a shower dangled in front of her like a carrot. She had managed both, but she had nodded off twice with the comb still in her hand, and she was on the verge of making it a hat trick.

“C’mere.” Abandoning the paper, Rosie sat on the bed and held out her hand for the comb. Jem relinquished it without a protest. Her cheeks had lost all the colour they’d gained from the warm water, and her chest sounded like it needed oiling. On the sats monitor, ninety-three percent flickered in amber figures. Rosie put her hands on Jem’s shoulders. “Can you lean forward? That’s enough, that’s fine.”

Jem gave a satisfied sigh as Rosie began to ease the tangles from her hair. Katya had replaced the manky hospital soap with proper body wash, and the stink of smoke had at last disappeared beneath the scent of vanilla and honey.

“Thank you,” Jem said. “Y’know, for last night. For everything.”

Rosie fussed with Jem’s fringe, uneasy with the gratitude. She didn’t want Jem to feel indebted to her; that wasn’t why she’d stayed. “Not quite what I had in mind for a first date, Jemima,” she said.

“No?” Jem smiled. “We did get fireworks, of a sort.”

“This is true.” Rosie guided Jem back to the pillows. “The travel arrangements were also exclusive and very efficient.”

“Free accommodation,” Jem added.

“And your dad made sure we spent the night together,” Rosie said.

Jem spluttered and set off coughing. “Well, this just got very weird.”

“It did rather.” Rosie retrieved the paper and snapped it open. “Moving right along, apparently too much cauliflower might give you tinnitus.”

Jem’s cough tapered into a yawn. “What a load of twaddle. They’d print anything.”

Rosie lowered the paper again. “You’re welcome, by the way. And I’m really glad you’re okay.”