I take them gratefully and gulp the pills down soenthusiastically that some of the water goes down the wrong way and I start tocough.
‘I got you a banana,’ says Katrina, cheerfully banging me onthe back and bringing the fruit out of the pocket of her overall. ‘My sisterswears by food and caffeine to stall an attack.’
My eyes mist with tears of relief. ‘Thank you.’ I peel the bananaimmediately and eat it while Katrina makes me a strong coffee, and I explainabout my eating schedule that’s supposed to keep my hormones on an even keel.
Katrina, handing me the coffee, says, ‘I think thecaffeine’s supposed to help the blood vessels in your head constrict orsomething,’ and I gulp it down, not caring that I’m in danger of burning mytongue. If this caffeine thing works, that’s another weapon in my arsenalagainst this vicious condition!
It’s an effort after that to finish the shift, though. Themigraine symptoms are still hanging around and I’m praying it won’t turn into afull-blown attack. I do my best to match Katrina’s energy but the anxietyaround these attacks makes me feel so exhausted. And once again, the threat ofa migraine has managed to obliterate all the good things that have happenedtoday.
Miraculously, though, the tablets work this time. I guess ithelps that I glimpsed Logan driving away earlier, so I don’t have the stress ofworrying I might bump into him as I’m leaving the hotel.
I’m feeling much better as Katrina and I reload the trolleywith everything we need to start the whole thing again tomorrow.
‘Fancy getting some scran?’ she asks. ‘I want to try thatLittle Duck Pond Café place. It always looks so nice but I’ve never beeninside.’
I nod. ‘It’s lovely. Fabulous cakes and pastries, if that’swhat you fancy.’
‘I do.’ She grins. ‘My boyfriend hates me because I can eatas much as I like and never put on weight. Stan, bless him, just has to be inthe same room as a plate of treacle sponge and custard and he puts on fourstone.’
I laugh. But I hesitate for a moment, glancing at my watch.
‘I’m sure they won’t mind if you eat your other banana inthe café,’ says Katrina, reading my mind. ‘I’ll probably be ordering enough forboth of us anyway.’
I smile at her. ‘Let’s go, then.’
‘Great. I’m so hungry, I could eat a scabby horsebox.’
On the way to the café, she tells me her philosophy on life,which is that she works to live, rather than the other way around. She and Stanseem to do a lot of fun stuff together, going birdwatching and hiking in the countrysideand sharing a love of musical theatre. It makes me realise that ever since Geraintand I split up, I’ve been doing the opposite. I’ve been living to work, whichof course I haven’t minded at all because writing is my passion. But it doesmake me wonder if maybe I’ve missed out on a lot of fun in the process.
Once we’re sitting at a table in the window of the café, Itell Katrina about my writing.
‘It was a big thing for me, especially after Geraint and Ibroke up. I guess I used it to keep my mind off the bad stuff. I love it,though. I always have.’
‘I can feel a “but” coming on,’ points out Katrina.
I sigh. ‘It’s just that since the accident, I haven’t beenable to write a thing. I mean, I’m supposed to be finishing the novel I startedfor the competition, but I just get a mental block when I sit down at thelaptop. And my head starts hurting.’ I shrug. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’
‘Try writing something else.’
I frown. ‘Such as?’
She shrugs. ‘Only you can know that. But...I always think that if you’re gritting your teeth trying to conquer something,it’s not really the best space to be in. Far better if you’re relaxed, thenthings seem to flow. You know?’
I nod. ‘You’re right. Maybe I’ll try that.’
‘You should. You definitely shouldn’t give up on yourwriting. If you’ve got a talent, you need to use it. You promise you’ll let meread something you’ve written some time?’
For once, she doesn’t seem to be joking around, so I smile.‘I promise. If I write something else, you can be my critic.’
‘Great. Are you sure you won’t have some of this cherry andcoconut cake? It’s absolutely mouth-wateringly glorious.’ She takes anotherbite, mimicking being transported to heaven.
I glance at my watch. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have my other bananain five minutes.’
She studies me curiously. ‘So do you think this strict food planof yours is helping you? It would drive me batty if I couldn’t eat things Ifancied now and again.’
I nod, without even thinking about it. ‘Oh, it’s definitelyhelping.’
‘Right.’ She pauses. ‘So have your migraines improved sinceyou started following it, then?’
