“Absolutely not!” she responds firmly. “He ate some shellfish from a dodgy street food van.”
“Then why are you hiding him?” A look of horror crosses Ryan’s face. “He’s not dead?”
“I’m not hiding him and he’s not dead. Merely a little paralysed.”
In retrospect, she should have known those words would have repercussions. But she is very tired and she really does not like Tolly’s agent.
“Paralysed?” Ryan looks as if he is a candidate for a heart attack.
“Tolly’s speech is off. He can’t control his arms and legs. But the chance of respiratory failure is past. I did call a friend of mine who is an attending at one of your local hospitals and he came over for a consult last night. And I’ve been monitoring him all night. Tolly will probably be more tired than normal in the next couple of weeks, but he’ll make a full recovery.”
If Anna thinks her words will reassure Ryan, she is wrong. “His speech is off?” Ryan splutters. “But he’s got a major event tonight!”
Which is precisely why Anna has a problem with the agent. His first thought is for Tolly’s engagements, not for Tolly’s well-being.
“It’s temporary,” she says. “It will wear off. Most people recover within twenty-four hours. The best thing for Tolly is to sleep as much as possible. The body heals faster with sleep. And the symptoms are less distressing if you are asleep for the worst of it.”
Ryan’s lips thin. “Where is he?”
Anna continues. “You should thank me, really. If anyone had got hold of footage of Tolly in the state he was in, your boy’s reputation would be blown.”
The agent does not look at all grateful. Instead, he repeats his demand: “Where is he?”
Anna opens the door to the bedroom. “Promise you won’t wake him?”
Ryan doesn’t answer but Anna matches his silence with her own until he capitulates. “Okay,” he says with an annoyed flick of his head.
“He’s in the living room. On the couch.”
The agent slips out of the room. Anna follows him back downstairs and into the lounge. She is pleased to see Tolly still sleeping soundly.
“See?” she says.
“Now get out.” Ryan’s words are harsh, but he does keep his volume low.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard. You can leave voluntarily or I can call security to throw you out. I know which would give me more pleasure.”
Anna considers calling his bluff but only for a second. Tolly is through the worst. Repulsive Ryan may not be the world’s best nurse, but he can be trusted to look after his bankable client. And causing a ruckus being forcibly removed by security would only wake Tolly.
She nods. With a grin, she reaches into the bag Seth left and produces the bedpan and urine bottle. “You’ll probably needthese when he wakes.” She shoves them at Ryan, but he recoils in horror. Admittedly, Ryan doesn’t know they are unused.
With a smirk, she places the equipment on the coffee table. “Take care of him,” she warns.
Then she heads into the foyer, slips her feet into her trainers and opens the door. She sees Tolly’s car abandoned on the drive and considers swiping the keys and driving back to her hotel. But driving in Los Angeles daytime traffic would be a vastly different affair to the free-flowing roads of last night. And what would she do with it at the other end? She is leaving on a jet plane today. No, she is best off walking out of the gated estate and finding a ride-share or a bus. She pulls her phone out of her pocket to locate the quickest route.
A twenty-minute walk brings her to a shopping area. Mercifully, it has all been downhill, but the heat of the day is building and she is feeling sweaty and sticky already. She perches on a low wall to order a ride. Five minutes later, a white car with the correct registration, an American model she has never heard of, pulls up. Anna climbs into the air-conditioned comfort with relief and sits back. She is bone-weary and soul-weary. She never thought she would say this, but all she wants to do is to go home.
When she finally lets herself into her hotel room – a shadow of the happy, effervescent woman who left it over twenty-four hours earlier – she wants to cry. She hasn’t felt life is this bleak since the peak of the pandemic. But she doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to give it any space to grow inside her. Instead, kicking off her shoes, she walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower full blast. She washes off every trace of Santa Catalina Island, of kayaking in the sunshine, of a kiss under the streetlight. When she is finished, she wrings out her hair, towels herself dry, and falls into bed, determined to sleep as hard as she can.
She wakes to the sound of her phone ringing. Bella. She can see a string of texts from her, too. Anna’s first thought is to cancel the call – there is a limit to the drama she can endure today, and she is beginning to understand Bella is all drama. Her younger self might not have noticed, but her older self is more aware. But Bella is likely to call back at regular intervals and Anna is reluctant to switch her phone off in the vain hope that Tolly calls, although she knows he is unlikely to recover properly for hours. In the end, she answers.
“Thank god! Where are you?” Bella cries.
“In my hotel room.” Anna’s tone is grumpily discouraging, and she is unsurprised when Bella disconnects. A few minutes later, though, just as Anna is drifting back to merciful oblivion, there is a tapping on her hotel room door.
“Anna!” Bella’s voice filters through the door. Again: “Anna!”
