knocked my ankle into the bannister. He swears, pulling me closer so my head lolls back against his chest.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he says, backing up the stairs. I can see pale pink walls covered with paintings in ostentatious frames, all gilt and swirly bits, then a door, then Leon’s laying me down on a gloriously soft bed. Unfamiliar faces shift in and out of view. There’s someone dressed in a lifeguard’s kit; I blearily wonder if she’s been here this whole time.
Leon is pulling the pillows up behind me, supporting my weight with one forearm.
‘Can you sit up?’ he asks quietly.
‘I . . .’ I try to talk, and start coughing, rolling on to my side.
‘Careful.’ He shifts my sodden hair back behind my shoulders. ‘Are there any extra blankets in here?’
Someone is spreading thick, scratchy blankets over me. Leon is still tugging me up, trying to get me into a sitting position.
‘I’ll feel better if you’re upright,’ he says. His face is close to mine; I can see the start of stubble on his cheeks. He looks me right in the eyes. His are a soft dark brown that makes me think of Lindt chocolate. ‘Can you do that for me?’
I shift myself higher against the pillows and grab ineffectually at the blankets with freezing fingers.
‘How about a tea to warm you up?’ he says, already looking around for someone to fetch one. One of the strangers slips out of the door. There’s no sign of Johnny White any more – I hope he’s gone to get himself some warm clothes – but there are still about a million people here. I cough again and turn my face away from all the staring faces.
‘Let’s give her some space. Can we have everyone out, please? Yes, don’t worry,’ Leon says, getting up to usher people from the room. ‘Just let me do an examination with a bit of peace and quiet.’
A lot of people say things about what to do if we need anything. They file out one by one.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, as the door closes behind everyone. I cough; it’s still hard to talk.
‘None of that,’ Leon says. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Cold and a bit achy.’
‘I didn’t see you go down. Do you remember if you banged your head on a rock or anything?’
He kicks off his shoes and pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the end of the bed. I notice, finally, that he’s soaking wet and shivering too.
‘Shit, you’re drenched!’
‘Just reassure me you’ve not got brain fluid seeping out from anywhere. Then I’ll go get changed, OK?’
I smile a little. ‘Sorry. No, I don’t think I banged my head. Just twisted my ankle.’
‘That’s good. And can you tell me where we are?’
‘Brighton.’ I look around. ‘Hey, and the only place I’ve ever been with nearly as much floral wallpaper as my mother’s house.’ The full sentence makes me cough, but it’s worth it to see Leon’s frown loosen a little, and his lopsided grin return.
‘I’ll take that as a correct answer. Can you tell me your full name?’
‘Tiffany Rose Moore.’
‘Didn’t know the middle name. Rose – it suits you.’
‘Shouldn’t you be asking me questions you know the answers to?’
‘I think I liked you better when you were all drowned and dopey.’ Leon leans forward, one hand raised, and lifts his palm to my cheek. It’s very intense and a little out of nowhere. I blink as he stares into my eyes, checking for something, I guess. ‘Are you feeling at all sleepy?’ he asks.
‘Umm. Not really. I’m tired, but not in a sleepy way.’
He nods and then, a little belatedly, drops his hand from my cheek. ‘I’m going to give my colleague a ring. She’s a doctor, and she’s just come off her rotation in Accident and Emergency, so she’ll know the drill with an ankle exam. Is that OK? Pretty sure it’s just a sprain from your history and what I’ve seen of how you’re moving, but we’d better check.’
‘Umm. Sure.’
It’s strange being in the room for a conversation between Leon and one of the doctors he works with. He’s no different – just as quiet and measured as when he speaks to me, with just the same lilting touch of an Irish accent – but he seems more . . . grown up.
‘OK, it’s a pretty simple exam,’ Leon says, turning back to me once he’s hung up. His forehead is furrowed in a frown, and he perches on the bed