The Holiday Home Page 0,36

perfectly fine,’ interjected Pru as the doctor tended to her husband.

‘Your blood pressure is a little high, Mr Meake. Are you under a lot of stress?’

‘My husband is not stressed or anxious. If anyone is, it’s me. My masseur says she’s never felt such tense and knotted shoulders as mine.’

The doctor ignored her and spoke to Francis.

‘What about your diet? You’re a bit underweight.’

‘His diet would make Gwyneth Paltrow look as if she’s been on the Hobnobs!’ answered Pru, as though Francis were a small child unable to answer for himself.

The doctor admonished her: ‘Please, Mrs Meake, let your husband answer.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Francis.

‘Well, you have a nasty bump on the head and it appears from the blood tests that you are also a little anaemic. I want you to eat lots of leafy green vegetables, dried fruits, nuts. Try a steak every now and then, if you can. And try not to worry about things. Take it easy for the next day or two. OK?’

Pru, who had followed the ambulance to hospital in her own car, was driving him back to Atlantic House now.

‘I’m sorry about all the fuss and bother,’ Francis said.

‘I think it’s your friend, Belinda, you should apologise to. You gave her quite a shock.’

‘I was surprised to see her.’ He looked down at his grazed knuckles.

‘She claimed she works with you,’ Pru snorted, and gave him a short glance.

‘That’s something of an exaggeration. I told you, she’s on the PTA and is a bit of a busybody.’

‘She called you Frankie.’

Francis started to feel sick – his head throbbed. ‘Yes. It’s very annoying.’

They settled into a familiar silence. Francis leaned his head on the half-open window, taking deep breaths.

The car rolled into Higher Barton and finally down the narrow, sweet-smelling lane leading to Treviscum Bay and Atlantic House. Pru helped Francis out and up to their room. As he cleaned his teeth he saw the graze on his cheekbone and the swelling above his eye.

‘That’ll be a shiner tomorrow,’ said Pru, behind him. ‘Come on, Frankie, let’s get you into bed.’ She passed him a glass of water and his tablet.

‘Thank you, Pru.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘For looking after me.’

‘Hmm. Don’t get used to it. Get some sleep and I’ll try not to wake you when I come up.’ She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Sleep well.’

*

He woke the next morning to a gentle shake of his shoulder and a cup of tea from Jeremy.

‘Here you are, Dad.’

‘Thanks, Jem.’ Francis sat up feeling very groggy while his son set the mug down on the bedside table and perched on the bed.

‘How do you feel?’

‘OK.’

‘We’re all worried about you. Maybe we should look after you for a bit, instead of the other way round, eh?’

Francis smiled at his beloved son. ‘I’m fine. You know me, I enjoy looking after you and Mum.’

‘Yeah, well, stay in bed a bit. Mum says she can get her own breakfast today.’

Father and son smiled at each other, sharing the joke.

Jeremy stood up and walked to the door. ‘Shout if there’s anything I can get you. Oh, nearly forgot, your friend Belinda says she’ll be over to see you in a minute.’

Francis didn’t have time to take evasive action. No sooner had Jem left the room than he heard Belinda’s trilled ‘Morning’ through the always unlocked front door.

He sat rigid in bed, his ears straining for any sound, above that of the noisy thumping of his heart, that might suggest she would stay downstairs. No. He could hear her armfuls of jingly bracelets jangling on the banisters, the squeak of the top landing floorboard, the turn of the bedroom doorknob.

‘Frankie!’ She filled the room with her hips and bosoms and burnished curls caught up in an adolescent posy of silk poppies.

‘You poor thing.’ Now she was on the bed, opening carrier bags full of Lucozade, magazines and sweets.

‘I’ve been so worried about you.’ She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. Am I interrupting something?’

Greg was standing at the open door, giving Francis a sly wink.

‘I have been sent by Pru –’ he smiled archly at Belinda – ‘that’s Francis’s wife, to see if you would like a tea or coffee?’

Belinda looked innocently at Greg. ‘How very kind of her. A coffee would be nice.’

‘Excellent. I’ll be back in a moment.’ He shot Francis a knowing look under raised eyebrows before departing.

Belinda continued where she had left off. ‘I am so glad I was there when you had