Chapter 5
Chapter Five
With the visit to the garden centre out of the way, Lily spent the afternoon deciding on the ice cream flavours she’d offer for the shop opening. Once she had the menu finalised, she could call Gordon to give him her shopping list. She’d also need to put in an order with the supermarket to make sure she had enough cream and the other products which she couldn’t get from the garden centre.
It should have been a straightforward task, but after questioning her decisions, she decided to sleep on it and put in her orders the following day. She did order blackboard paint for the back wall of the shop, along with chalk pens, so she felt sufficiently productive.
By the time she crawled into bed, she was feeling more positive about the opening of the shop. Deep down, she knew that she just needed to swallow her nerves and get on with it.
Sadly, any positive feelings had left her when she woke in the middle of the night. In their place were pangs of nausea and intense stomach cramps. It felt as though her insides were being squeezed, and she instinctively rolled onto her side and brought her knees towards her chest. The motion didn’t help, and she spent half an hour writhing on her bed before forcing herself up to get a glass of water.
Moving helped a little, and she wandered the flat, wondering if the nausea which came in waves would get strong enough for her to vomit, and if she’d feel better if she did.
When the pain faded, she slipped back into bed and dozed for an hour or two before waking to an overpowering rush of nausea. Springing from the bed, she just made it to the bathroom in time to rid herself of the contents of her stomach.
The relief was immediate and she rinsed her mouth out before trudging back to bed and falling straight into a deep sleep.
When she woke again in the middle of the morning, a dull ache had replaced the cramps, as though someone had punched her repeatedly in the stomach. An unhealthy dose of self-pity accompanied the discomfort. Being ill was never pleasant, but being ill alone was miserable.
She thought of how her uncle had coddled her when she was ill as a kid, and missed him so fiercely it brought tears to her eyes.
A distraction was what she needed, she told herself as she dragged her duvet to the couch and switched the TV on. It didn’t help, and ten minutes later she had her phone in her hand, typing out a message to Flynn, casually asking how work was going.
Thrilling as ever, he replied, and she smiled at the words which she knew were all sarcasm. I’ve made the sergeant two cups of tea this morning, cleared up the front desk, washed the Land Rover and shooed a cat out of the station three times. Crime fighting at its most intense.
Lily’s smile stretched wider and she didn’t have a chance to respond before he messaged again.
How’s everything in the ice cream world? Any new flavours I need to test?
Not today, she told him. I’m ill.
All she got back was a couple of question marks.
Was up half the night with stomach cramps and vomiting, she wrote.
A sad face emoji came through. How are you feeling now?
A bit pathetic, but physically much better.
Do you need me to bring you anything?
No, I’m okay, thanks. Just lazing on the couch and feeling sorry for myself.
I can call over later if the sergeant feels capable of dealing with the stray cat alone.
She chuckled and it made her stomach hurt. I might be contagious, she typed.
I’ll take my chances. Let me know if you think of anything you need. I can call at the shop.
Thank you, she typed, then flopped back onto the couch, feeling infinitely better.
It was an hour later when she heard from him again, messaging to say he was downstairs and she should throw her keys down. That was definitely better than trudging all the way down there in her pyjamas.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he wandered in wearing his uniform and holding a shopping bag in his hand.
“Okay.” She kept her head on the cushion and couldn’t even muster the energy to sit up. “My stomach feels as though someone used it as a punchbag, but other than that, I’m all right.”
He held up the shopping bag. “I brought you chamomile tea, a couple of tins of soup and a hot water bottle. I assumed you probably wouldn’t have one.”
Warmth spread through her chest, and it took her a moment to find her voice. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I’ll make you a tea. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t know,” she said weakly.
“If you’re not up to soup, I also brought bread. I can make you a slice of toast and see how it goes down.”
“That would be good.” She was glad he immediately went to the kitchen, so she had a moment to get her emotions under control.
They were friends and she’d absolutely do the same for him, so she shouldn’t be surprised by him looking after her. Really, that was why she’d messaged him. She’d wanted someone to take care of her, but she’d only expected a bit of sympathy.
“Is it okay for you to go shopping while on duty?” she asked when he came back with a cup of tea and the hot water bottle.
He placed the steaming mug on the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “I spent a good portion of the morning chasing a cat out of the station and had a half hour meeting with the sergeant about whether we should just let the cat have free rein of the place. I don’t think you need to worry about me wasting taxpayers’ money. This is probably the most useful thing I’ll do all day.” He perched on the couch beside her thigh. “You know what I was thinking while I was in the supermarket?”
“What?”
“I kept glancing around, hoping I might catch someone shoplifting. Someone in good physical shape who’d give me a run for my money while I chased them down. I miss the feeling of tackling shoplifters to the ground. That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“A bit,” she agreed at the same time that the toaster popped in the kitchen.
Flynn handed over the hot water bottle. “Put that against your stomach. When I was a kid my mum used to give me a hot water bottle when I was ill and it was always very soothing.”
She pushed it under her blanket and held it against her stomach.
“Sorry, I can’t stay longer,” Flynn said when he returned from the kitchen with a single slice of toast.
“Don’t be daft. You have to get to work. I really appreciate you coming over at all.”
“Message me later and let me know how you’re feeling. There’s soup in the kitchen if you feel up to it later.”
“Thank you. I hope work is busier for you this afternoon.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to have a busy afternoon making a bed for a stray cat.”
“That sounds like fun,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.
“You have a weird idea of fun.” He gave a quick wave before leaving her alone.
The visit perked her up, as did the tea and toast. Watching a film while snuggling with a hot water bottle felt lovely and indulgent now. By the time the credits rolled up at the end, she felt her appetite returning and was lured by the thought of a nice, warm bowl of soup.
In the kitchen, she stopped in front of the table. When she’d moved in, Mirren Treneary had given her a pretty white vase as a housewarming gift, but it had never been used. Not until now, when cheerful giant daisies rose out of it.
Beside it was a note in Flynn’s messy handwriting which simply said Get well soon. She lowered her face and inhaled the faint scent of the flowers, then moved to warm up the soup.
It was a shame he was such a womaniser. He’d make someone a great boyfriend if he felt so inclined.