Page 90 of Winter With You

She drew in a breath and let it fill her lungs, stabilising.

Ella-Bella, everything is OK. Phoebe is OK. It wasn’t your fault. With Lulu’s voice in her head she stood up straight and regrouped.

‘Come on,’ the nurse said. ‘I’ll take you in.’

A few minutes later, Gabriella was pushing open the door to the room Phoebe was in and greeted her niece with a big smile.

‘So, the good news is,’ Gabriella began, ‘the doctor has prescribed chocolate. Apparently it’s the only complete cure.’ Gabriella hastened towards the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine,’ Phoebe replied softly.

She wasn’t fine. She was sitting up on a trolley bed. Her face looked red from crying and the skin around her eyes looked angry and sore. The whites of her eyes were pink and Gabriella felt a piercing stab of guilt. This was on her. She had been the one to act first and ask questions later. She was the one who had sprayed the perfume at the would-be kidnapper only to get Phoebe full in the face instead.

‘Phoebe, I am so, so sorry,’ Gabriella said, pulling a chair up to the bedside. ‘I should have assessed the situation first. I should have stopped and asked questions but you were speaking Russian and Russian is our go-to language for dire situations.’

‘Or it’s the language you use when you’re giving directions to a Russian tourist and trying to do a good thing.’

Yes. Apparently it was also that. Because the man with Phoebe, the one Gabriella had set upon with all the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub had been an innocent visitor to New York City, not someone about to human traffic her niece…

‘I did tell you to stay where I could see you,’ Gabriella stated. ‘I was worried.’

‘You overreacted,’ Phoebe said. ‘And nearly blinded me.’

She swallowed. ‘But your eyes are OK? The nurse said that⁠—’

‘They are going to be sore for a few days and blurry but they’re going to give me some eye drops. I just have to wait here for them and then we can go. They said it would have been worse if I hadn’t had my glasses on.’

‘OK,’ Gabriella said, taking a breath. ‘OK, good.’

‘So, what happens next?’ Phoebe asked.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean Cheyenne is going to be pissed you left the book signing.’

‘Probably.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Well, some things are more important. We talked about this over doughnuts,’ Gabriella reminded her.

‘We talked about some things,’ Phoebe said. ‘But we didn’t talk about lots of other things that are more important.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how you talk to Mum most nights when you think I’m not listening.’

Gabriella swallowed and felt a wave of heat roll over her, a sensation somewhere between embarrassment and shame. She toyed with the edge of the sheet on Phoebe’s bed.

‘I talk to her too,’ Phoebe said.

Gabriella looked up. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Phoebe said. ‘Because there are things I want to tell her. And I don’t see why I can’t tell her just because she isn’t here physically anymore.’

Luca had said something so similar and it replayed like a sad echo. ‘You know that you can talk to me, right?’ Gabriella said. ‘About anything.’

‘I know that,’ Phoebe said. ‘And I do. But sometimes I just want to talk to my mum and… sometimes you just want to talk to your sister, don’t you?’