The little boy’s eyes grew wide, in a sign the bet had paid off. “No.”
“Tonight you will,” he promised.
All sign of concern fled from Jack’s face. “When?”
“Soon. I just have to take care of a few things first.”
2
EVERYTHING HURT.
Elodie tried to sit up, but it was like taking a hammer to her ribs, so she stayed where she was, blinking her eyes open. Nothing made sense. She looked around the room as best she could while flat on her back. It was a hospital – the equipment gave that away. The bed though was unlike any hospital bed she’d seen, wide and soft. The décor was lovely too – butter yellow walls with modern art work, and the room was spacious, with a sofa and a little kitchen.
Where was she?
One of her hands was sore. She used the other to feel around until she connected with something like a small remote control. She pressed the button on it and closed her eyes.
It was too bright.
Her throat hurt.
She felt like she’d been hit by a…flashes of memory speared through her. The truck. The ball. Jack.
“Oh my God.” Ignoring the pain now, she pushed up to a sitting position, crying out in agony, pausing to take stock and then shoving the light-weight blanket from her lap. Her leg was in a cast.
It didn’t matter. She had just pushed herself off the bed and was trying to catch her balance when the door burst open and two nurses ran in.
They spoke in a foreign language. Italian? Or was she not hearing properly? Her head hurt like the devil and felt half-full of wool or water, it was highly likely she’d done some kind of damage to her brain and could no longer process language properly. She stared at them helplessly, fear tightening around her. Where was Jack?
“My son.” The words barely came out. Her throat was so dry. Tears filled her eyes. She lifted one hand and mimed the action for rocking a baby. “Baby. My baby. Where is he?”
Then, to herself, “Oh, Jack, where are you?”
They stared at her and she could have screamed. What time was it? What day? Where was she? This didn’t look like the Royal, but she could be in a different ward. Presumably she was. The only other time she’d been here was when she’d had Jack.
“Please help me,” she groaned. Panic was making her heart rate soar and her pulse was like an out of control anvil. “Please.”
One of the nurses, a woman in her fifties or sixties with blonde hair and a kind smile, nodded reassuringly, gesturing to the bed. “Sit. We help you.”
“My son,” she rushed, ignoring the suggestion she sit. “Where is he?”
“Jack?”
Relief was dizzying. If this woman knew his name then he must be here, too. “Yes, Jack,” she nodded but the action made her head feel like it was being split down the middle with a samurai sword. “Where is Jack?”
“Ah! Later. He come later.”
Come from where? Where was he? “Now.” She pointed to the floor to be better understood. “I need to see him now.”
The nurse frowned but nodded. “Been.I call.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Please, you sit now.”
Having ascertained that Jack wassomewhere,and within calling range, and that he could be produced, she relaxed a little. Her body was in agony. The first rush of maternal panic had subsided and the pain she’d been conscious of before was so much worse now.
“Okay.” With the help of both nurses, she was helped into bed and eased back into a prone position carefully. She was grateful to be on her back once more, though the other nurse, a brunette with dark, thickly lashed eyes, pressed the button that lifted the back of the bed a little, so she was half-sitting.