This had occurred to Lola too; at the time she’d simply acted on impulse although in retrospect it had been a bit of a reckless thing to do. ‘But I wasn’t. And I’m OK.’ Apart from the blistering headache. ‘Could you give work a ring and tell them I should be in tomorrow?’

‘I most certainly will not. I’ll tell them you might be in next week, depending on how you feel.’

‘Mum, how are they going to feel if you tell them that? It’s December! Everyone’s rushed off their feet!’

‘And you were knocked unconscious,’ Blythe retorted. ‘Anything could have happened. My God, for once in your life will you listen to me?’

A man who’d been walking up the ward stopped and said genially, ‘It always pays to do as your mother tells you.’ He was in his sixties, well-spoken and smartly dressed in a suit. Was this her consultant? Lola sat up a bit straighter in bed and smiled expectantly, all ready to convince him that she was well enough to be allowed home. After last night’s debacle with the paramedic she’d better put on a good show

‘Miss Malone?’

‘That’s me.’ Eagerly Lola nodded. To prove her brain was in good working order, he’d probably ask her the kind of questions doctors used on old people when they wanted to find out if they were on the ball. OK, what was the capital of Australia? What was thirty-three times seven?

Yeesh, don’t let him ask her to name the Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer.

‘Hello.’ He moved towards her, smiling and extending his hand.

‘Hi!’ Quick, was it Melbourne? Victoria? Lola’s brain was racing. People always thought it was Sydney but she knew it definitely wasn’t. Might he give her half a point for that, at least?

The man shook her hand warmly. ‘It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Philip Nicholson.’

He even smelled delicious. Watching him turn to shake her mother’s hand, Lola breathed in his expensive aftershave. Goodness, what charming manners, this was like being in a private hospital and getting — ooh, was it Perth?

‘I just had to come and see you,’ he went on.

‘Well, I suppose you couldn’t avoid it. All part of the job description!’ Lola beamed at him, aware that he was looking at her head. Touching the tender area she said, ‘Bit of a bump, that’s all. I’m absolutely fine. Except, can I just quickly tell you that I’m rubbish at capital cities?’

Philip Nicholson hesitated and glanced over at Blythe, who shrugged and looked baffled.

‘In case that’s what you were going to ask me,’ Lola hurriedly explained. ‘I mean, some are all right, like Paris and Amsterdam and Madrid, they’re easy, and I do happen to know that the capital of Azerbaijan is Baku, but in general I have to say that capitals aren’t my strong point’To be on the safe side she added, ‘Neither’s politics.’

Carefully Dr Nicholson said, ‘That’s not a problem. I won’t ask any questions about either subject.’

‘Phew, what a relief.’ Lola relaxed back against her piled-up pillows. ‘I’d hate to be kept in just because I couldn’t name the leader of the Liberal Democrats.’

Dr Nicholson cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m sure that wouldn’t happen.’

‘Well, hopefully not, but sometimes you do know the answer and you just can’t think of it.

Someone fires a question at you, you know it’s important to get it right and — boom! — your mind goes blank!’

‘Of course it does.’ He nodded understandingly.

‘Like, let’s try it with you.’ Lola waggled an index finger at him. ‘Capital of Australia.’

Dr Nicholson hesitated. Blythe, never able to resist a quiz question, let out a squeak of excitement and raised her arm. Lola swung the pointing finger round and barked in Paxmanesque fashion, ‘Yes, Mum?’

‘Sydney!’

‘No it isn’t.’ Lola returned her attention to Dr Nicholson. ‘Your turn.’

He was looking somewhat taken aback. Opening his mouth to reply, he

‘Brisbane!’

‘Sshh, Mum. It isn’t your go.’

‘Um...’

‘Melbourne!’ squealed Blythe.

‘Mum, control yourself. It’s Dr Nicholson’s turn.’

At this, his shoulders relaxed and his mouth began to twitch. ‘It’s Canberra. And I’ve just worked out what’s going on. I’m not Dr Nicholson, by the way.’

Bemused, Lola said, ‘No?’

He smiled. ‘Entirely my fault. I knew the police had told you our name last night and I kind of assumed you’d remember. But you were concussed. I’m sorry, let’s start again. My name’s Philip Nicholson and I’m here to thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming to my wife’s rescue.You did an incredibly brave thing and I can’t begin to tell you how grateful we are.’ His voice thickened with emotion. ‘Those thugs could have killed her if you hadn’t gone to help.’

Lola clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I thought you were my consultant, coming to check whether I was compos mentis: Philip Nicholson looked amused. ‘I realise that now.’

‘Phew! Just as well I didn’t think you were here to examine my chest.’ God, imagine if she’d whipped her top off, that would’ve given him a bit of a start.

‘Quite.’

‘How’s your wife this morning?’ said Lola.

‘Well, still shocked. Battered and bruised. Two broken fingers.’ There was a hard edge to his voice now. ‘Where they tried to wrench her rings off!

Did they get them?’

‘No. Which is also thanks to you. She’s pretty shaken up, and her face is swollen. But physically it could have been a lot worse.’ Philip Nicholson shook his head and slowly exhaled. ‘My wife and I owe you so much.’

Lola squirmed, embarrassed. Anyone would have done the same: ‘No they wouldn’t,’ Blythe retorted. ‘Most people would have had more sense.’

Their visitor nodded. ‘I’m inclined to agree. Though very grateful, of course, that your daughter wasn’t—’

‘Hello, hello! Morning, all!’ A little man wearing a maroon corduroy jacket over a green hand-knitted sweater came bouncing up to them. Pumping Lola’s hand and simultaneously pulling closed the curtains around the bed, he said, ‘I’m Dr Palmer, your consultant. Let’s just give you a quick once-over, shall we? If you two could leave us alone for ten minutes that’d be marvellous.

I say, that’s a fair-sized bump on your head. How are you feeling after your little adventure last night?’

‘Great: Lola watched as with mesmerising speed he began testing her reflexes, her eyes, her coordination. ‘Are you going to be asking me questions?’

‘Absolutely’

She couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. ‘The capital of Australia is Canberra.’

‘Good grief, is it really? Always thought it was Sydney. Never been much good at capital cities, I’m afraid. When I’m checking out my patients I prefer to ask them sums. What’s twenty-seven times sixty-three?’

‘Uh ... um ...’ Lola began to panic; seven threes were twenty-one, carry two and—

‘Only kidding.’ Mr Palmer’s eyes twinkled as he snatched up her notes. ‘What day is it today?’

‘Wednesday the fourth of December.’ Phew, that was more like it, that was the kind of question she could answer.

‘Cheers.’ He wrote the date on a fresh page then added o/e NAD.

‘What does NAD mean?’ Lola peered at it. ‘Please don’t say -Neurotic and Demented.’

The consultant chuckled. ‘On examination, no abnormality detected.’

‘My mother might not agree with you there. So does that mean I can go home?’

‘I think we can let you go.’

Beaming, Lola wiggled her feet. ‘Yay.’

’What a charming man.’ Blythe, evidently quite bowled over by Philip Nicholson, found Lola’s glittery shoes in the bottom of her bedside locker. ‘And so grateful. His wife’s on Ward Thirteen, up on the next floor. Poor thing, from the sound of it her face is a terrible mess. I think they’re going to be sending you flowers, by the way. He asked for your address.’

‘If they’re that grateful they might send me chocolates too. Did you phone work?’

‘I did. Told them you wouldn’t be in until next week.’

‘Who did you speak to? What did they say?’

‘It was Cheryl.’ Blythe held out the cropped velvet jacket as if Lola were six years old. ‘And it was quite hard to hear what she was saying. Everyone was cheering so loudly when they heard you were going to be away, I could hardly make out a word.’

‘Cheek. Everyone loves me at work. Honestly,’ said Lola, ‘if Philip Nicholson wants to get me something really useful, a new mother wouldn’t go amiss.’

Chapter 6

’This is fantastic. I feel like the Queen.’ Being at home and having a fuss made of her was a huge novelty and Lola was relishing every minute. Once you’d been officially signed off work by the doctor, well, you may as well lie back and make the most of it. Friends called in, bringing chocolate croissants and gossip from the outside world, a couple of police officers had dropped by to tell her that the muggers hadn’t been caught, and Blythe had come over yesterday and spring-cleaned – well, winter-cleaned – the flat.

Best of all, she had Gabe at her beck and call.

‘You’re a fraud.’ He brought in the cheese and mushroom toasted sandwich he’d just made.

‘You don’t have to be in bed.’

‘I know’ Lola happily patted her ultra-squishy goosedown duvet, all puffed up around her like a cloud, and wriggled into a more comfortable sitting position. ‘But I get so much more sympathy this way. It’s like being back at school and staying home with tonsillitis. All cosy, watching daytime TV, everyone being extra-nice to you and knowing you’re missing double physics.

Ooh,’ she bit into the toasted sandwich and caught a string of melted cheese before it attached itself to her chin.

‘Mmmmpphh, this is heaven. Oh Gabe, don’t go to Australia. Stay here and make toasted sandwiches for me forever.’

Gabe found her toes and tweaked them. ‘What did your last slave die of?’

‘Nothing. I’ve never had a slave before, but now I definitely know I want one.’ At that moment the doorbell rang downstairs. ‘Like when the doorbell rings,’ said Lola. ‘And you just ask someone else to run down and see who it is.’

‘That’ll be me, then.’

‘Sorry. I’d do it myself if I could.’ Lola shrugged regretfully. ‘But I’m an invalid.’

He was back a couple of minutes later with a great armful of white roses tied with straw and swathed in cellophane. ‘Flowers for the lady. From a very upmarket florist. Here’s the card.’

Gabe tossed a peacock-blue envelope over to Lola. ‘Unless you want me to read it for you because you’re too ill.’

‘I’ll manage.’ Since she didn’t have any friends who would use such a glitzy company, Lola had already guessed the identity of the sender. And she wasn’t wrong. ‘They’re from Philip Nicholson. He hopes I’m feeling better. His wife was discharged from hospital yesterday.’ She paused, reading on. ‘He’s inviting me to a party at their house so I can meet her and they can thank me properly.’

‘You can’t go to a party. You’re an invalid.’

‘It’s not until next Friday; that’s seven days away. I’ll be fine by then. It’s nice of them to invite me.’ Lola hesitated, pulled a face. ‘But won’t it be a bit embarrassing?’

‘Spoken by the girl who once superglued her finger to her forehead and had to wait in casualty for six hours before the nurse could unglue it.’

OK, that had been more embarrassing.

‘I’m still not sure. They live in Barnes.’ Lola checked the address. ‘Sounds posh.’

‘You’d hurt their feelings if you didn’t turn up.’

This was true.

‘And they must want me to go.’ She showed Gabe the handwritten letter. ‘He’s even organised a car to come here and pick me up on the night. Crikey, now I really feel like the Queen.’ Having finished her toasted sandwich, a thought struck Lola. ‘Is there any of that apricot cheesecake left?’

‘No, you ate it.’

‘Oh. Well, could we buy some more?’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘You really should get back to work. You’re turning into Marie Antoinette.’

Five days later Lola was back. She adored her job and she loved her customers — dealing with the public was her forte — but sometimes they were capable of testing her patience to the limit.

Especially in the run-up to Christmas, when vast hordes of people who didn’t venture into bookshops at any other time of year came pouring through the doors with a great Need to Buy coupled with Absolutely No Idea What.

It could be an enjoyable challenge. It could also be the road to madness. Lying in bed watching lovely Fern and Phil and dunking marshmallows in hot chocolate seemed like a distant dream.

‘No, no, it’s none of them.’ The woman with the plastic rain hat protecting her hair — why? It wasn’t raining today — rejected the array of books Lola had shown her.