*
Four days after her mortifying collapse, Lainie woke in the evening with a clear head. Her aches had dulled and her stomach had settled, and she felt almost like a rational human being again.
Her mother looked up from the armchair at the foot of the bed and smiled. “Feeling a bit better? You’ve lost that dazed look and your colour is better.” She put down her iPad and studied her daughter approvingly. “Yes, definite improvement. You look mildly hungover, which is at least five steps up from yesterday’s corpse.”
Lainie ran her hand over her midriff, grimacing at the clammy feel of her top. “Always supportive, Mum, thanks.” She looked around the bedroom. Despite the endless parade of sweating, tossing, turning and vomiting, it looked cleaner than usual. “Did you vacuum in here while I was out of it?”
“I also dusted, and I rearranged your wardrobe. Trousers at the left end, dresses at the right. This is a very small flat, Lainie.”
“Meaning there was nothing else to do?”
“Meaning it wouldn’t kill you to clean more often.”
“I do clean. On Sundays.” Not every Sunday, but most...well, some.
Rachel propped up the pillows behind Lainie’s shoulders and helped her to sit up. “Do you think you can manage something to eat? I haven’t been able to get more than a cup of instant soup down you the last few days. You won’t have the energy to walk to the loo soon. What about some toast? A boiled egg?”
It had been a long time since her mother had brought her a sickbed tray. Lainie thought back to her school days. “Marmite toast?” she suggested, weighing the suggestion against any lingering nausea. It sounded quite tasty. She must be on the mend.
“Marmite toast it is. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
“You’re a goddess among women.”
She was shattered after eating the toast and standing up for a proper shower, but the joy of clean hair was worth the wobbly legs. Lainie lay back against a mound of pillows and carefully combed through the long, wet strands.
“What time is it?”
Her mum looked up from her book. “Almost ten o’clock.” Correctly interpreting the reason for the question, she added, “The show will be over soon.”
“I’ve missed three performances,” she realised, dismayed, and her mother shrugged.
“It was hardly avoidable, darling. You couldn’t even sit up without assistance. I’d say you’re going to miss at least two more while we build your strength back up. You couldn’t possibly make it through three hours onstage like this.”
“They’ll probably revert me to the understudy.”
“Nonsense. Don’t let the post-flu blues take over. You’ll be back to work by the weekend. Put that phone down.”
Lainie didn’t look up from her dialling. “I’m just checking my voice mail.” As she listened to the automated voice, she asked, trying to make the question casual and failing, “Has Richard really been here every day?”
The fake indifference didn’t fool her mother. Rachel looked amused, and more than a little speculative. “He’s not too good at taking no for an answer, is he? Yes, he’s been here every day. Every morning without fail, usually before I was dressed, and each night after the show. I imagine we can expect his charming company shortly.”
Lainie hit the button to listen to her messages and cast her mother a quick, concerned glance. “He hasn’t been rude to you, has he?”
Rachel considered. “No. Not rude. Fairly abrupt, but I gather that’s a personality quirk and not a cause for personal offence. And I think any curtness stemmed from concern about you. He’s looked almost as bad as you have, my sweet. The stubble grows more alarming with each passing day. I assume he doesn’t have to shave for his role.”
“No, they actually add more hair,” Lainie said, deleting a message from Bob. He was definitely not a priority call right now. She traced the pattern on the bedcovers. “Has he been worried?”
She could remember snatches of conversation. Gloriously strong hands. Whispers of kisses. Comfort.
“In his very stoic, sarcastic manner, darling,” Rachel said lightly, “I’d say that was an understatement.” She tilted her head. “Do you know, despite his unfortunate manner, I think you might have done all right there. He’s a step up on Will, who unsurprisingly has been a bloody nuisance.”
Lainie made a face and deleted another unimportant message. “He’s only hovering again because of Richard. He can’t stand him.”
Rachel snorted. “The feeling is clearly mutual. I thought about baby-proofing the room when they were here together. No sharp or heavy objects in easy reach.” Her narrowed eyes were mischievous. “I had thought you shared Will’s dislike.”