Oh for God’s sake.

“Er…not sure,” I say, as Janice seems incapable of speech.

“Who are you?” The woman squints at my badge.

“I’m Marigold,” I say confidently.

“Marigold?” Her eyes narrow further. “I thought she left.”

Honestly, what’s wrong with this woman? Why does she have to be so suspicious the whole time? I’m sure it’s not good for her health.

“Well.” I give a shrug, and the woman whips round to Janice.

“What’s your name?”

Oh no. Poor Janice. I turn to give her some moral support—and blink in shock. Janice is transfixed. I’ve never seen such terror on a face. Before I can even open my mouth, she’s collapsed on the floor.

Oh my God.

“Janice!” I cry in horror, and kneel down beside her. “What happened? Are you OK?”

She’s not even moving. This is bad.

“Janice!” I tug at her clothes and try to listen to her heartbeat.

“Is she breathing?” demands the black-haired woman.

“I don’t know!” I say furiously. “Let me listen!”

I put my ear to her chest, but I can’t tell if I’m hearing her heartbeat or my own pulse, so I rest my face against her mouth. I’ll be able to feel her breath, surely?

And the next moment I hear a watery whisper in my ear: “I’m acting, love. Like in the film.”

She’s…

What?

I don’t believe it.

This was not in the plan. I am so going to tell Janice off. But for now I’ll have to go with it.

“She’s unconscious!” I say dramatically, sitting back on my heels. “I think you should call a doctor. So, um…you stay with her and I’ll just quickly deliver this.”

I get up and grab the trolley. I need to get into the room with these wretched flowers. Danny and Suze need the signal. They’ll be wondering and not knowing what to do—

“Wait,” says the black-haired woman.

“Call the doctor!” I repeat urgently, and the woman glares back but gets out her phone and dials. “Juliana?” she says. “It’s Lori. Can you put me through to the health center?”

“Hey, Becky!” A cheery male voice hails me. “Becky, is that you? Over here!”

Argh. What now? My head turns instinctively before I can stop it—and it’s Mike, the guy from the roulette table at the Venetian. The one who didn’t want me to leave. He’s waiting for the lift about twenty yards down the corridor, wearing a blue suit and waving with a huge beam on his face. “How’s the winning streak?” he calls. “Hey, you really work here?”

I feel prickly all over. Please shut up, I think silently. Please shut up.

“Becky?” Lori gives me an evil look. Thankfully the lift doors close before she can question Mike.

“Isn’t that weird?” I give a shrill laugh. “Who was that man? He must have me confused with…I have no idea….Oh my God! Is she still breathing?”

As Lori glances down again at Janice, I practically gallop away with the trolley. I knock on the door of Jerry’s and enter without waiting for a reply. By now, Cyndi is wearing a full-length coat and turning this way and that in front of the mirror.