Necessary as Blood

well.‘
    ‘But I can‘t...‘
    ‘I‘ll see that she stays in bed.‘ Duncan‘s tone brooked no argument. He took down the doctor‘s final instructions, then rang Kit as she was being checked out.
    Gemma made one last feeble attempt at resistance when he brought a wheelchair. ‘I don‘t need—‘
    ‘Hospital rules. It‘s the only way you‘re getting out of here.‘
    She shuddered and let him help her into the wheelchair and then into the car. When he had climbed in beside her, she said, ‘I hate that place‘ and was mortified to find that her voice was shaky. ‘And I‘m sorry you‘re angry with me.‘
    He turned to look at her in surprise. Angry with you? Don‘t be daft, Gemma. It‘s myself I‘m angry with. I should never have let you go round with that lump on your head without having it checked out. You have an excuse, because you weren‘t thinking clearly. I have none but stupidity. And believe me‘ — he gave her a dark look — ‘I‘m going to make sure you do what the doctor said.‘
    ‘But I promised I‘d take the boys to see Mum tomorrow.‘
    ‘I‘ll take them, as long as you get someone to come and stay with you. Maybe Hazel or Melody. Or Betty.‘ His voice had softened, and she saw the glint of a smile. ‘Otherwise,‘ he paused while he eased the car into Ladbroke Grove, ‘you‘ll be running laps.‘
    ‘Hazel‘s working. I‘ll ring Melody.‘ She‘d said it so quickly that Duncan gave her a suspicious glance. Gemma settled back in her seat, deciding that she‘d just have to make the call when he‘d left her alone. Fuzzy-headed she might be, but she .wasn‘t about to tell him she had an ulterior motive. Not yet.

    Melody arrived about ten on Sunday morning. Earlier, Gemma had got up, made the bed, put on shorts and a T-shirt, then been ordered back to bed by Duncan. She‘d compromised by staying dressed and propping herself up on the bed with just a throw for a cover. To tell the truth, she didn‘t feel up to much, and had dozed off again when she heard the bell and voices in the hall.
    Duncan called out, ‘Melody‘s here, and we‘re off,‘ and a few moments later Melody came into the bedroom.
    ‘Wow!‘ she said. ‘This is lovely,‘ and Gemma realized Melody had never been upstairs. Nor did she ever remember seeing Melody in anything as casual as the jeans and cotton-print top she wore today, with her dark hair tousled and her cheeks pink from the heat and sun. Even when Melody had come to their dinner party in the spring, she‘d worn a white silk blouse and black trousers, an outfit that had seemed an extension of her uniform-like work clothes.
    ‘It is, isn‘t it?‘ Gemma agreed. ‘I suppose there are worse places to be confined.‘ She nodded towards the slipper-chair in the corner. ‘Sit, please.‘ Suddenly, she felt a little awkward in such intimate circumstances with this unleashed Melody, who seemed so different from the woman she had thought she‘d known.
    But Melody pulled the slipper-chair closer to the bed and perched on it, showing no hint of discomfort. ‘Columbia Road was brilliant,‘ she said. ‘I want a garden. Or at least a patio or a balcony with room to plant things.‘
    ‘But surely you‘ve had a garden.‘ Gemma, whose only previous experience with a garden had been a scraggly square of lawn at the house she‘d owned in Leyton with her ex-husband, Rob, tended the terrace and patio garden of the Notting Hill house with much trepidation, and with considerable help from Duncan and the boys.
    ‘I grew up in a Kensington town house. With topiaries. My grandparents — my mum‘s parents — have a very formal garden in Buckinghamshire, strictly the province of the gardener. And my nan, my dad‘s mum, still lives in her council flat in Newcastle. She refused to move, no matter how much Dad bullied her.‘ Melody grinned. ‘I always wanted to be like her when I grew up.‘
    The words seemed to spill from Melody, and Gemma wondered how long it had been since she had really talked to anyone.
    ‘I want a riotous garden,‘ Melody added with a grin, ‘and now I know where to get things. I just have to figure out the how to manage the garden bit. And I apologize,‘ the smile faded, ‘for never having had you round, when you‘ve been so kind to me, but there‘s not much to see in my flat.‘
    ‘Well, I‘ll come whenever you like. But in the meantime, tell me about Roy. Did you speak to him?‘
    ‘Yes. He was a bit leery at