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Chapter 3
Margo
Dad looked down at me in concern. I didn’t want to know what he was thinking.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
He shot Mam a helpless look. “I have to get back to work. Make sure you tell me exactly what the doctor says.”
Dad had been picking up odd jobs around town. He couldn’t afford to pass any of them up.
“I promise I’m fine,” I said. “Tell him, Mam.”
She reassured him while firmly guiding him to the front door. On her way back, she fetched yet another blanket to smother me with. Even I had to admit that I was disturbingly cold, but it had been worth it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mam tucked the blanket around me. “Should we go to the hospital, just in case?”
“We can’t explain what’s happening to me there. My temperature drops will only freak people out. I need time to get back to normal. You know that.”
Dr Rivers arrived soon after. He was the father of my art teacher, Perdita Rivers, and so sort of connected to Dorian. He had kind eyes, and he was gentle with his questions as he checked me over.
“Sounds like you had an eventful day,” he remarked.
“Not my worst.”
He smiled. “I know what that’s like.”
“You’re the local GP,” Mam said as though bewildered. It wasn’t exactly a secret, and I was pretty sure she’d met the man before. “But you know about everything. You’re okay with everything?”
He glanced at her. “It took some time for that, and certain events set me back a bit, but I trust my daughter.”
“She almost died recently,” Mam pushed. “How can you be okay with that?”
“Mam!” I was mortified. She sounded so accusing.
“I’m not.” The kindness in his eyes faded. “But she’s an adult now. I don’t get a say in her choices, and for the most part, she’s been safe and happy. The man who tried to hurt her was a terrible person. That had nothing to do with the fact he was a werewolf. Some people can’t be helped, but that doesn’t mean we should stop helping all people.”
She chewed that over for a few moments.
“I wasn’t always like this, but I found the more I tried to control my daughter, the more I pushed her away from me.” He unstrapped the blood pressure monitor from my arm. “I think I’m done here for now, but I’ll check in again.”
“Will I be okay to go to Dorian’s birthday party?” I asked, ignoring my mother’s derisive snort. “It’s important to me.”
He smiled, shaking his head a little. “I’m sure you’ll be well able for a party by then. I might even see you there.”
I made a face at my mother who made one right back. She hurriedly smoothed over her expression when the doctor looked her way.
“Her blood pressure is a little low,” he explained, “but it’s the temperature that bothers me.”
“Should we be concerned?” Mam asked.
“It happens,” I said. “Goes away by itself.”
“I see,” he said. “Mrs Harding, could you make her a fresh cup of something hot? And maybe another hot water bottle if possible.”
Mam hesitated before hurrying into the kitchen. I held my breath, waiting for the doctor’s opinion.
The lights from the Christmas tree flashed as though beating along with my heart. Our old tree hadn’t fit, so we’d compromised on a smaller tree. To my surprise, I found it cosy and homely, rather than missing what we had before.
