Sophie awoke with absolutely no recollection of where she was. Panic slicing through her, she pulled herself to sitting position, squinted hard against the thin, wintry sunlight filtering through the blinds and then glanced hurriedly around. Paul’s. Closing her eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was at Paul’s apartment, in his guest room, though how she’d got here from the lounge, she hadn’t the slightest clue. No, not the lounge, the dining table. Sifting through her dysfunctional memory, she eased her legs over the edge of the bed and felt immediately woozy. A dull throb, like a band slowly tightening, pounded at the base of her skull. She massaged her neck, trying to recall anything beyond taking her seat at the table, but the images were grey and wispy.

Shit! He must have put her to bed. She certainly didn’t remember getting into it herself. Glancing quickly down at her attire, she emitted a huge sigh of relief, and then jumped to her feet as there was a tap on the door, only to end up plopping heavily back down again. ‘Yes,’ she called croakily. God, her throat felt like sandpaper. What the hell was the matter with her?

‘Are you decent?’ Paul called, pushing the door open a fraction.

‘Uh-huh,’ Sophie said, guessing she was decent enough for his eyes, being dressed, though had no clue what she must look like. Had she been sick? She’d definitely caught a whiff.

‘Morning – or rather, afternoon.’ Paul smiled as he came in, bearing a tray. ‘Are we feeling a bit better?’

‘Ugh, no, I feel awful,’ Sophie said miserably, blinking against the light that flooded in from the lounge. ‘What happened?’

‘At a guess, the flu bug going around happened. It’s a nasty one, apparently.’

He could say that again. ‘Did I pass out?’ she asked, guessing she must have.

‘You don’t remember the doctor coming?’ Paul placed the tray on the dressing table and turned to her, surprised.

‘Doctor?’ Sophie’s eyes boggled. ‘No.’ She shook her head, bewildered. She was obviously sicker than she thought she was.

‘You were running a fever,’ Paul said. ‘She gave you a shot.’

A shot?

‘Just something to bring your temperature down,’ Paul said, as her eyes drifted to the small pinprick on her arm. ‘She said to call her again, if you got worse, but I’m guessing you must be slightly improved, since you’re back with us. You had me really worried there, I can tell you. I must have checked on you at least ten times in the night.’

Oh. ‘Thanks,’ Sophie said weakly, feeling grateful and guilty. ‘Sorry for all the trouble I seem to be causing.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ Paul assured her. ‘I think you might need to take her advice though.’

‘Which is?’ Sophie asked, wondering whether she could make it to the bathroom. She seriously needed to shower.

‘She’s in agreement with me about you possibly being lacking in essential vitamins and minerals. If you really can’t face eating meat, and I’m guessing you can’t, you need to supplement your diet. I’ve bought you some vitamin pills. I’ve left a couple on the tray.’ He nodded towards it. ‘There’s scrambled eggs there, if you’re up to it. And then I’m thinking you might want to get changed.’

‘Thanks,’ Sophie said again, feeling still puzzled. He must have remembered she didn’t eat meat if he’d discussed it with the doctor, so why had he put meat in the meal? She shrugged it off. He must have forgotten, and then been reminded when she’d thrown up.

‘Like I say, no trouble. You can’t help being ill, can you? I’ve rung your mum, by the way. She sends her best.’

Her best? She passes out and her mother sends her best? Cheers, Mum. At least she was finding out how wanted she really was now. The cow was probably out there having a ball. Shagging the latest boyfriend and test-riding a few more from Tinder.

Sophie shrugged. As far as she was concerned, she and Justin were well shot of Alicia. Her eyes suddenly filling up, Sophie hurriedly wiped her nose.

‘I’ll come in and strip the bed while you’re in the bathroom,’ Paul said, heading for the door.

‘Strip it?’ That was a bit OTT, wasn’t it? She wasn’t that niffy.

‘Mascara.’ Paul turned, nodding past her to the pillow, upon which, Sophie realised, were several tell-tale black patches. ‘You might want to not bother with it while you’re ill.’

‘Oops. Sorry,’ she said, wiping a hand under her nose again.

‘Oh, and Sophie?’

She looked sheepishly back at him.

‘Use a tissue to blow your nose, yes? There’s a box on the bedside table.’

‘Oh, right.’ Sophie plucked one and fiddled with it. She didn’t actually want to blow her nose.

‘Your bag’s over by the window,’ he reminded her. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Shout when you’re ready and I’ll give you a hand to the bathroom.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ Sophie said, as he went out. ‘Oh, where are my boots?’ she called, assuming he’d taken them off last night.

‘You were sick on them.’ Paul poked his head back around the door and gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Looks like we’ll have to get you a new pair, when you’re up to it.’

Crap. Sophie’s heart sank. She found a use for the tissue after all, dabbing at the tears that sprang from her eyes, despite herself. She shouldn’t feel bereaved over a bloody pair of boots, but those were her new Red or Dead boots. More importantly, Justin had gone with her to buy them the week before their world had been blown apart. It shouldn’t matter. But it did.

Testing the floor with her feet, Sophie heaved herself up, feeling in need of Luke’s little pink elephant toy, the only link to her past and something she had made sure to bring with her.

Wobbling as she went, she dropped to her knees and delved into her bag, and then delved deeper. It wasn’t there! She did the whole pulling-stuff-out thing all over again. She’d had it here. She was sure she had. Hadn’t she? And now it wasn’t here.

She’d lost it. The one thing she’d wanted to keep above everything else.

‘I’m so sorry, Luke,’ she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘So sorry.’ She was sure she could hear his happy little gurgles above the distant rumble of traffic, that she would see her beautiful baby brother again soon. She missed him so much. Sometimes, she would close her eyes, sure that when she opened them, he would be here. Sophie’s heart twisted inside her as she remembered Luke’s flailing little arms, his squeals of delight as she laughed and cooed at him and pressed his pink elephant to his cute button nose, the way his true baby-blue eyes would grow wide with excitement when they alighted on her coming into his nursery.

She’d been sure she could do this, survive on her own. She had no choice but to.

But now, her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe.