MacDougall's Darling by Emilie Richards

Author:Emilie Richards [Richards, Emilie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488026737
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 1995-09-08T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Fiona was dozing on Andrew’s shoulder when Pamela arrived to tell them that Sara seemed to be responding to treatment. She had stabilized, which was the best anyone had expected so early in the crisis, and there was every hope that by tomorrow morning her fever would begin to inch back toward normal. In the meantime, the little girl was sleeping, and Pamela insisted that Fiona and Andrew do the same. She intended to use a hospital bed to get some sleep herself.

Fiona and Andrew were already heading toward the closest hotel before they exchanged more than a few words. She noted the way his strong, wide hands tensely gripped the wheel, as if he were afraid he might fall asleep if he relaxed. “You don’t think they’re just telling us she’s better so that we’ll get some sleep, do you?” she asked. “Could they just be putting a positive spin on it?”

“They could be, but I doubt it. What need have they to spare our feelings? They’re far too busy to be worried about us.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“There’s nowt we can do tonight, Fiona. We’ll ring first thing in the morning.”

She fell silent again. Rain had fallen throughout the evening, and under the graduated glow of their headlights the street glistened like gushing oil. Just ahead a cat darted between shrubs lining the curb, but there was no other movement. Glasgow, Scotland’s jittery, glittery diamond in the rough, was sleeping soundly.

Andrew pulled into a space in front of a solid and monumentally plain building. Fiona had to squint to find the sign that designated it as a hotel. “It looks like the kind of place that caters to long-term residents.”

“It does, but there was room for us. I’ve a key to the side door.”

“I imagine they’ll think it odd that we’re arriving without suitcases.”

“I explained.”

She followed him inside, up a set of stairs covered in an endearingly old-fashioned maroon carpet, past doors with cut glass knobs and walls adorned with framed lithographs of the river Clyde. He stopped in front of the last door at the end of the hall and used an ornate key in what was obviously a nineteenth century keyhole.

He ushered her inside. The room was tiny, the carpet worn. A musty smell greeted them, as if the room had been closed up for months. She ran a finger idly along the wainscoting and found it dust free. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. It has a bed.”

“I thought you’d be pleased to see that.”

The bed was large enough for two, visibly sagging and smothered by a chenille spread with a tartan blanket folded neatly at the foot. It gave her an odd sensation to stand there and look at it with Andrew beside her. “Where’s your room?”

“At the opposite end of the hall. Will you be all right?”

She had expected to be, but something about the room gave her pause. Her skin tingled, one step from unwelcome goose bumps. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason why, but she didn’t feel comfortable here.

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