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“Mrs Lucas!” Gibson turned to chastise me, and behind her, Dougie made swift his departure from the gallery.
I ignored Gibson and headed straight back to the kitchen, leaning on the worktop, struggling with dizziness.
Gibson followed me in. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Dougie is a blast from the past. A big fucking blast.” I clung to th
e cool work surface with my clammy hands while I perspired and shivered at the same time. The only parts of me radiating heat were the marks from the previous night.
“You’re not going to see him,” declared Gibson.
“I think I have to,” I countered, straightening up.
She reached into her back pocket for her mobile. “You don’t know his surname?”
“Nope, not important back then.” Surnames had meant nothing to me when I was out having fun.
“Is he an ex?”
Another violent shiver, and I shook my head. “A friend of an ex.” I wrapped my arms about me, trying to stem the trembles.
Gibson wasn’t daft, she knew my past. She took in my paleness, the shaking hands, and my rapid breathing. “His friend?” She raised her voice.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Right, you shouldn’t go,” she reiterated firmly.
“It’s not your decision. Dougie never hurt me or gave me any reason to fear him.”
“Back then. What about now?”
Gibson had a point. I didn’t know what motivated Dougie to seek me out after all these years.
“How did they know each other?”
“They were in the army together. Same platoon. Comrades in arms, more like brothers,” I explained.
Tapping a sequence of numbers on her phone, she contacted Martinson—he would quickly find out with his military police connections.
“Martinson says no, too,” she added after she ended the call. “He wants to know if you’re going to contact your husband.”
“I assume he will, if I don’t.” On the one hand, I needed my husband to calm me down. On the other, he would be furious if he knew I considered meeting with Dougie, and I’d rather not speak to him about it.
Nicholas stuck his head round the door. “Really need you out here, Gemma.”
“Shortly,” I snapped, and he shot out of the kitchenette.
I fished my phone from my handbag, and Gibson left me alone. It took several rings before he picked up the phone. I could hear Joshua squawking in the background.
“Gemma, how’s it going?” asked Jason brightly.
Shit. I didn’t know how to start this conversation.
“Okay.” I paused. “I-I’m,” I stuttered.
“What’s the matter?” Between his words, Joshua screeched. “Shh, I’m talking to Mummy.”
“I’m meeting somebody for lunch,” I announced. My nerves were getting the better of me, and the wobbly legs started to give out again. With no seats, I slithered down and crouched on the floor, the mobile pressed to my ear and my back propped against a cupboard.
