Page 58 of Frosted Fakes

"Just now. Ten seconds, maybe." Elliott's voice sounded strange to her own ears. "She was dizzy and then she just…"

"Pulse is weak but present." Julia tilted Milly's head back gently, checked her breathing. "She's breathing. That's good. Call 999. Tell them we have an elderly woman, approximately eighty years old, sudden collapse with loss of consciousness. Pulse weak, breathing shallow. Possible cardiac event or stroke."

Elliott fumbled for her phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely dial.

Julia was rolling Milly into what Elliott vaguely recognized as the recovery position, her movements sure and practised. "The recovery position keeps her airway clear. Her skin is cool and clammy, which could indicate shock. Has she had any heart problems? Diabetes?"

"I…I don't know. She's eighty-three, she must have something—"

"It's okay. The paramedics will assess her properly." Julia's voice was impossibly calm. "Just tell the operator what I told you."

Elliott relayed the information in a voice that didn't sound like her own. The operator asked questions. Julia fed her answers. It was surreal, watching Julia take charge.

This was who Julia really was, Elliott realized. Under all the people-pleasing and the apologies and the inability to operate an oven. This was the person she was supposed to be.

"Ambulance is on its way," Elliott said, hanging up. "Two minutes."

"Good." Julia checked Milly's pulse again. "She's stable. Her color's improving."

"How do you know all this?"

Julia glanced up, and for just a moment, the mask of competence slipped. Underneath was something raw. Something sad. "I watch a lot of medical videos, you know that," she said. "Turns out they actually teach you things."

The ambulance arrived faster than expected for once. Julia briefed the paramedics with calm efficiency, rattling off Milly's vitals and the timeline like she'd been doing this her whole life. The paramedics exchanged glances that looked almost impressed.

They loaded Milly onto a stretcher. Elliott followed in a daze, distantly aware of Julia promising to lock up the bakery, to call if she needed anything.

The ambulance doors closed. The siren started.

And Elliott sat beside Milly's unconscious form and tried very hard not to fall apart.

✽✽✽

Julia stood in the empty bakery kitchen at half past eleven, staring at a cold cup of tea she'd made three hours ago and hadn't touched.

Elliott had called from the hospital. Milly was stable. Some kind of cardiac episode, they'd said, but they'd caught it in time. She was going to be fine.

Julia should go to bed. Tomorrow she'd open the bakery and smile at customers and pretend everything was normal. That's what she always did. Smiled and pretended. The adrenaline of being forced into action had worn off long ago.

The back door opened.

Elliott stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the streetlight. She looked wrecked. Hollowed out. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair was a mess.

"She's okay," Elliott said, voice hoarse.

"Right." Julia set down her untouched tea. "I'm so glad."

Elliott didn't move from the doorway. "I froze," she said. "When she collapsed. I just stood there. I didn't know what to do."

"That's normal. It's a shock response."

"Not you." Elliott's eyes met hers. "You didn't freeze. You just… took over."

Elliott finally stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. She moved to the counter, gripped the edge like she needed something solid.

"She took me in," Elliott said quietly. "Milly. When I was seventeen. After my family kicked me out. For being gay."

Julia's chest went tight. "Elliott…"