‘Hot sweet tea,’ she said aloud. ‘Run cold water on the burn.’
She wished her mother would come down and help her. Deborah must have heard the crash of the falling ironing board, surely?
But she knew it was hopeless. If Deborah heard the crash she would just assume it was nothing to do with her and carry on watching her movie.
Face it, Zoe, you get yourself up or you stay sitting on the carpet for ever.
Zoe stood up carefully. Her arm throbbed and her legs were weak as water. But she was not hurt.
‘I can do this,’ she said, hanging on to the kitchen table.
It seemed like one of Jay’s five-thousand-metre runs to get to the cold tap.
That was when the doorbell rang.
‘Damn,’ said Zoe with real feeling.
She considered not answering. It was past eleven, after all.
But anyone who rang the doorbell at past eleven was serious. Maybe Harry had decided he couldn’t hack leading eleven-year-olds through salt flats, after all. Maybe he had dived for home and lost his key again. Clinging to the furniture, she made her way through the house and opened the front door.
And stared, open-mouthed.
It was Jay Christopher. Jay Christopher in a dinner jacket. His mouth was pinched as if he were in pain. But his jaw was determined.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
Zoe put a hand against the doorframe to steady herself. Her legs still felt as if they were made of lint and her head was beginning to swim. Her burned arm throbbed, too. She had not the slightest idea what he was talking about.
‘Sorry?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided. I’ll—’ Jay broke off suddenly. He leaned forward, his eyes growing intent. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘N-nothing.’
‘Yes, there is. You’re shivering.’
She was, too. Although the summer night was almost as warm as the day.
He said sharply, ‘What has happened?’
‘It’s nothing. I knocked over the ironing board, that’s all. I burnt myself. Nobody heard—’
Zoe was in tears, mortifyingly. Neurosis, indeed! She turned away, trying to hide it from him.
But Jay pushed into the house and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her back. His sleeve brushed the burn on her arm and she yelped. At once he held her away from him, eyes narrowing as he saw the mark.
Shivering even harder, she said, ‘It’s not serious. I just need to run it under cold water.’
‘Then let’s do that,’ said Jay calmly. He kicked the door closed without even looking at it. ‘Kitchen is this way, right?’
She leaned as heavily against him as if she were a convalescent. He got her into the kitchen, took a chair to the sink and made her sit down. Then he held her arm under the cool stream of water.
‘Feel faint?’
She smiled wanly. ‘A bit.’
‘Keep your head down. It will pass. I’ll just check on the iron.’
She did what he said. It seemed easier. Besides, she was grateful. It was a long time since anyone had taken care of her. It was worth putting up with a bit of bossing.
He came back. ‘The iron’s cold. You did all the right things. Good girl.’
He put a cool hand to her forehead. It felt almost professional. Certainly quite without feeling. So Zoe was horrified to find that she wanted to lean against him and say, Hold me.
She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you,’ she said huskily.
Jay was wearing his hidden laughter look. His eyes glinted down at her.
‘For what? Calling you a good girl? I thought you’d take a baseball bat to me if I patronised you again.’
She gave a watery chuckle. ‘Thank you for not saying one word about neurotic women and their petty crises.’
‘A burn is hardly neurotic.’ He leaned over her shoulder to look at it. She felt the warmth of his body under the dark jacket, the strength…
Her mind flipped sideways. Try, it said.
What?
What have you got to lose? it said.
What do you mean?
Lean against him and see what he does. You know you want to.
I can’t—
He’s right. You’re a coward.
Jay looked down at her. ‘Hey, you’re shaking again,’ he said in concern. He slipped off his jacket and put it round her. ‘That will have to do for the moment. I’m making you some tea. Then you can tell me where I find a blanket to put round you.’