Summer at the Lake Read Online Free PDF Page A

and observing her closely, had said that Floriana was lucky because the gash was close to her hairline and the scar would eventually be hidden. She’d also had a dressing applied to her chin and her cheek, which had been badly grazed and goodness only knew how horrible that looked.
    From the other side of the curtain she heard voices and footsteps, then with a sudden movement the curtain was swished back as if it was part of a magician’s act and the big reveal made – Ta-daar! The same nurse who had been keeping an eye on the trainee doctor appeared at the end of the bed. Smiling warmly, she said, ‘Here’s your grandmother and a friend. I’ll leave you to it for a while.’
    Floriana stared first at the diminutive elderly woman, then at the tall, rather good-looking man next to her. Her gaze returned to the woman. Trim and neat, she stood ramrod straight with old-school elegance. But she was unquestionably not Nanna Betsy who had been a taller and much more rounded sort of woman.
    ‘You’re not my grandmother,’ Floriana said at last.
    She noticed her words made the man suck in his breath and his face colour, but the woman stepped forward. ‘That’s perfectly true, and I’m sorry for misleading you, but I hope you’ll forgive a little subterfuge on our part. You see, we . . . or rather I, told a minor fib at the desk so we could be sure of learning how you were. I was worried they wouldn’t tell us if we told the truth. By the way, by name is Esme Silcox and I live in Latimer Street, not far from the junction with Church Close where you were knocked over.’
    Very slowly, a piece of the jigsaw slotted into place for Floriana. ‘Your voice,’ she said, ‘I remember your voice. You were . . .’
    ‘That’s right, we were at the scene of the accident. Mr Strong here –’ she indicated her good-looking sidekick – ‘called for the ambulance.’
    Floriana turned her attention back to Mr Strong and thought of the Mr Men books she had loved as a child; Mr Tickle had been her favourite. This Mr Strong looked extremely awkward, as if he wished he could be anywhere but here in this stifling heat and small curtained cubicle. You and me too, she thought. ‘Yes,’ she said faintly, ‘I remember you as well now. You talked to me, didn’t you? You said your name was . . .’
    ‘Adam,’ he said.
    ‘Mr Strong was wonderful,’ the old lady said. ‘He was most chivalrous and used his coat to keep you warm.’
    Floriana smiled gratefully at him, remembering not just his name now, but how calm and reassuring he had been. ‘Thank you. But why are you both here?’
    ‘We were worried,’ the old lady said, moving closer to the side of the bed. ‘We didn’t want you to be on your own. Is anyone on their way to be with you?’
    ‘Um . . . actually no.’
    ‘But you have someone who will come?’ she said.
    ‘I don’t need anyone, I’m fine,’ Floriana said with more spirit than she really felt. ‘Just as soon as whatever needs to be done, I’ll be out of here.’
    ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ the old lady said, surveying her patched-up head and face with a long and scrutinising stare.
    ‘They’ve done X-rays and stuff and nothing’s broken, so there’s no need for me to stay.’
    ‘What about concussion? Won’t they want you to stay in overnight so they can keep an eye on you?’
    Floriana’s heart sank at hearing her fears confirmed.
    ‘And I dare say they won’t be happy unless they know there’s somebody at home to take care of you. Is there somebody at home?’
    What was this? Why was this old lady giving her the third degree? And why did the truthful answer reduce her to a pitifully teary state and make her wish that the one person in the world she wanted to be here with her couldn’t be? Why should she even think of Seb that way when for the last two years he had been so resolutely absent from her life? One bloody card from him and she was a mess!
    Anger. That was better. Better to be