ChapterForty-One
Owen stared wearilyat the long list of unopened emails, exhaustion draining him of any form of curiosity. He knew he had to work, his bank balance and George were relying on him, but all he really wanted to do was jump on the next train to Brighton; get a taxi to Lexie’s flat, curl up in her bed and go to sleep with her snuggled next to him. But that was not an option. Lexie had clients today, and he had WIV.
‘Morning.’ George breezed by Owen’s desk in his usual pent-up storm of Monday morning temper. ‘You’re early,’ he called back from his office door, adding, ‘No, Kate yet, and where the bloody hell is Lexie?’
‘Back home, in Brighton. She doesn’t work here anymore. Have you forgotten?’
‘Course not,’ George yelled from inside his office, ‘Fetch us a coffee, will you? We need to talk.’
Owen peeled himself from his chair and trudged to the kitchen, too weary to argue, certain it was going to be a long day, and all he had to look forward to was a return to the hospital in the evening.
‘Morning, Owen. Are you all right?’ Kate arrived at his side as he tipped coffee into the machine.
‘No. I’m shattered.’
‘You look it. How’s Emi?’
‘Bit better this morning.’
‘You’ve been to the hospital already today?’ Kate pulled a tray from the cupboard and set mugs on it.
‘No. I spent the night there.’
‘No wonder you look like the walking dead. Was Lexie with you?’
‘No, she went home. Work to do today, and Margaret wasn’t exactly welcoming.’
Kate rolled her eyes in sympathy. ‘I can imagine. Did she stay all night?’
‘No, she left shortly after Lex.’
‘Poor you. All on your own. Shall I finish making the coffee now?’
‘If you want – George wants to see me, anyway.’
* * *
Owen madeit as far as the door into George’s office before dizziness stopped him, and he had to hang on to the doorframe for support.
George looked up from his work. ‘Jeez, Owen! Look at the state of you. Sit down before you fall down.’
Owen staggered to the chair. He’d thought he was tired, but now he wondered if he had caught his daughter’s infection.
‘Heavy night, was it?’ George asked.
Kate entered with coffee. ‘Owen’s little girl is sick. Has he not told you?’
‘No. No, sorry.’ George stood up and took the tray from Kate.
Owen leaned forward on the chair. Elbows on knees, face in his hands, he heard Kate explaining about Sunday with the Scotts. The less than successful family get together cut short, Owen and Lexie leaving to go to London and Emi in hospital.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ George interrupted.
‘A viral infection,’ Owen answered, leaning back in the seat. Grist! He ached in every bone. He must have caught the bug. He leaned forward again, feeling suddenly sick and then .…
* * *
When he woke,it was Millie looking down at him.
