that it had felt lovely and he had been so nice, but it had all got hopelessly muddled en route from her brain and she’d never intended him to hear any of it anyway.
Investigating some more, Ellie discovered she was wrapped in her duvet; at some stage Zack must have fetched it from the bedroom and covered her with it. And there on the coffee table, secured by her phone, was a note in his distinctive handwriting:
Morning. How are you feeling? I’ve gone to take Elmo for his walk and catch up on some paperwork. Back by eleven at the latest. Anything you need, just give me a call.
See you soon,
Z.
The Z ended with a little squiggle that might or might not have been a cross, a cartoon fish, or a kiss. Ellie found herself concentrating on it, studying it, trying to work out which of these he could have meant it to be. OK, stop it and get a grip, he hadn’t written her a love note. It was just a squiggle.
Also on the coffee table was her alarm clock, the packet of Ibuprofen, a glass of water, and another unopened can of Sprite. He’d thought of everything. After her inane burblings last night it was a wonder there wasn’t a straitjacket.
Ellie swallowed the painkillers and drank some water. Everything still hurt and dozing off again was a tempting option. But it was nine thirty, Zack could be back in an hour, and she needed to get clean.
The water hit her skin like bullets, the pain was intense, and she hadn’t realized standing up in the shower could be such hard work. Even lifting her arms to shampoo her hair was exhausting…
Right, concentrate, just get through it, let the shower rinse out the shampoo. Her legs were feeling weak and the heat of the water was making her head muzzy… oh, and now there were dots dancing in front of her eyes, this wasn’t good, dots getting bigger… OK, out of here, sit down before you fall down… oof.
***
‘Oh God, how did this happen? What did you do?’ Zack was looking at her in horror.
Ellie told herself it could have been worse. She might have been knocked out completely. Zack could have let himself back into the flat and found her lying in a wet naked heap on the bathroom floor. At least she was wearing her dressing gown and had made it back to the safety of the sofa.
‘I fainted in the shower. Well, half out of the shower.’ She pressed the handful of tissues to her temple; the bump had swollen to impressive proportions but the bleeding, thankfully, had almost stopped. ‘I hit my head on the edge of the radiator. It’s OK, I don’t need stitches or anything.’
Zack closely inspected the injury. ‘I think we’ll get a second opinion on that. I can’t believe you thought having a shower was a good idea. For crying out loud, you’ve got the flu.’
‘Sorry. I just wanted to feel better.’
‘And didn’t that work well. You could have cracked your skull open. Right, that’s it, I’m not leaving you here on your own again.’
‘It’s OK, I promise I won’t have any more showers.’
He probably wouldn’t want to know this, and she wouldn’t dream of telling him, but he was gorgeous when he was exasperated. Ellie lay back as he disappeared into the kitchen, and listened to the rattley noises emanating from the freezer.
He returned moments later with a packet of frozen sweet corn wrapped in a clean tea towel. ‘Here, don’t move, let me do it. You’re as white as a sheet.’
‘Are you always this bossy?’ She closed her eyes as the icy parcel covered the egg-sized lump on her temple.
‘Always.’
‘But you can’t stay here all the time.’
‘I know. But you need looking after.’ Zack wiped a trickle of water away from her neck. ‘That’s why you’re coming back to Ancram Street with me.’
***
Zack brought his car round, double-parking it outside the flat and not even allowing her to make her own way down the staircase. Instead, he lifted her up and carried her in his arms.
Who said the flu didn’t have its compensations?
‘I feel like I’m being kidnapped.’ God, it felt fantastic. Ellie had to keep her eyes averted in case he could tell what was going through her mind.
‘Can’t have you falling down the stairs and breaking your neck.’ Zack’s tone was brusque. He was just being practical. Her head felt like a bowling ball; it was a