By her friend’s cool efficiency, it didn’t seem as if she was much in the mood for talking either.
‘I’ll take a swab for the lab,’ Jess said, ‘just to be sure. But I wouldn’t hold off on starting those antibiotics. It looks nasty in there. Apart from that, you know the drill. Paracetamol for pain and fever. Lots of fluids and, most of all, lots of rest.’
Whether it was because she was sick, or just because she was sick of things not being right with Jess, Libby felt wretched, and there was no warmth in her friend’s expression when she spoke. It made her want to cry. Everything felt off-kilter. It was bad enough she was sick and it would have a knock-on effect on the shop, but having Jess cross with her was unbearable.
‘Jess, don’t be like that.’
‘Like what?’ Jess said. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? Checking up on you.’
‘You know what I mean. You’re being different. Cold.’
‘I’m doing my job,’ Jess said. ‘What do you expect? Your mum asked me to come and check on you and here I am. In my lunch break too. So if we can just get on with things, I might actually get the chance to grab something to eat.’
‘We both know there is more going on here,’ Libby said, taking a sip of water, which hurt like bejeezus when she swallowed. ‘I’ve not heard from you since the weekend. We never go that long without speaking. I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you. I didn’t mean to.’
Jess looked at her for a moment and then reached into her bag and pulled out her prescription pad. ‘I’ll nip out and pick this up for you. I think you should start them as soon as possible.’
‘Jess, please,’ Libby said, her voice cracking. ‘We need to talk about this.’
‘Now’s not the time,’ Jess said. ‘You’re sick and I need to get back to work. We both said some things that were pretty horrible, and you’re right, we do need to talk about this. But not now.’
Libby wiped away a tear that had crept out of her eye and was sliding down her face. ‘I hate us being like this,’ she said.
Jess just nodded. ‘I’d better get to the chemists.’
With that, she stood up and left, and Libby fell back onto her pillows, where she cried herself back to sleep.
21
Bridget Jones’s Diary
Libby hadn’t woken when Jess returned with a box of really large pills and some antiseptic throat spray. She’d found them later, along with a note saying to make sure to take them an hour before food. At least, she thought, Jess had written that she would be in touch. That was something, no matter how small.
Her throat felt as though she had been eating broken glass and her head still felt heavy and sore. She could feel the sheen of sweat that had pooled then cooled between her breasts, behind her knees, at the back of her neck and anywhere else it could cling on to.
She lifted her head gingerly, swallowed one of the tablets Jess had left along with some water, wincing as she did so, and then she fell back on her pillows – the exertion of that simple act being too much. Through tired eyes, she looked to the clock on her dressing table and saw the time illuminated as 4.37. She’d been asleep for about three hours – but she felt no better for it. Three hours when she should have been getting a lot done in the shop. This was absolutely the worst time in the world that she could have been sick. She felt her stress levels rise.
For the first time that day, she reached for her phone. The brightness of the screen hurt her eyes, but she needed to try and stay on top of things.
She could see a number of messages had been left.
The first was from her dad, telling her everything was under control.
There were two from her mum, telling her to stay in bed and to take it easy.
There was one from Ant – saying he would call her later. That he knew she was sick. Jess had told him. It was formal in nature. No little kisses at the end of it or flirty undertones.
There were a few voicemails from suppliers. Emails marked urgent that she couldn’t quite focus on.
Libby felt thoroughly sorry for herself – so sorry in fact that even her mum arriving home with some ice cream for her throat didn’t lift her spirits.
‘As soon as you feel a little stronger, we’ll get you in the shower and I’ll change these bedsheets,’ her mum said, happy to have been able to adopt the role of chief carer for her child again.
Libby knew she must smell. Every now and again, she caught a whiff of something unpleasant. It wasn’t hard to imagine the stuffiness of the room and her sweat-soaked body created a pungent aroma. Her mother fussed around the room, opening the curtains just enough to allow some fresh air from the open window in but not too much so that the brightness burned her daughter’s retinas. Libby watched as she proceeded to light a scented candle. God, she really must smell quite extraordinary – and not in a good way.
‘Now there, pet. Sip some water for me. Jess said you’re to keep your fluids up,’ her mum said, as she thrusted a glass of iced water, resplendent with a bendy straw, under Libby’s nose.
It was nice to have someone care for her, Libby thought. It was nice to feel loved and safe. Much to her chagrin, this was enough to send Libby off into another flurry of tears.
‘Libby, darling. What is it? You’ll start to feel better soon, you know. These are strong antibiotics. Give it twenty-four hours and you’ll be on the road to recovery. I know you feel rotten, but there’s no need to cry.’
Her mother sat on the bed beside her and pulled her into a hug. She even kissed the top of Libby’s greasy head, which proved the selfless nature of maternal love.
‘Oh, Mum,’ Libby sobbed. ‘Things are a bit of a mess.’
‘Ah now, pet. What’s happened? I’m sure it’s not that bad.’
‘I’m sick. I’m going to be sick for a few days at the very least, and the shop needs so much work. And the flat – I’ve not even started on the flat and I can’t see me finding the time. You and Dad have been so good to me, letting me stay here. But we all need our own space, and I don’t want to take advantage.’
Her mum made soothing noises and held her just a little bit closer. ‘You always have a home here, Libby. The flat will get sorted, probably sooner than you think. There’s nothing there that isn’t insurmountable. The shop will be fine. It’s in safe hands with your dad in your absence. The important thing is, you rest and get better properly. Once the shop opens, you won’t get that chance. It’s not a mess, darling. It’s just another hurdle.’
‘But Jess,’ Libby sobbed. ‘We’ve fallen out, and, Mum, I’m sure she hates me. We never fall out, but she thinks I’ve been a rubbish friend. And maybe I have. I don’t know any more. We said such absolutely horrid things to each other, Mum.’
‘I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. How could she? You two are like sisters, and, you know, sometimes sisters fight and say horrible things to each other. You should have seen me and your auntie Joan. We’d batter each other until your granny stepped in to stop us. Jess came to see you today, didn’t she? Brought you medicine. There’s nothing on earth that could split you two up.’