Amy came to blearily, looking around, disorientated.
‘Is she alright?’ a voice from a long way away sounded.
‘She looks pale. Gave me the right wiggins when she went down next to me,’ said another.
‘Here’s some iced water,’ said a third. ‘Patrick, try getting her to sip it. Slowly though.’ As her hearing focused, Amy thought it was probably Millie.
She tried to sit up, struggling against the arms which held her.
‘Oh my darlin’ take it easy. You’ve given us one hell of a fright, so you have.’
Patrick’s voice and Patrick’s arms which held her. Blinking, she became aware of her surroundings. She reached for the water, her hands over the top of the ones which were holding the glass.
‘Nice and slow there.’ Definitely Patrick.
She was desperate to sit up but it was safe cocooned in his arms. Besides, her head throbbed and she felt too shaky to move.
‘Have you hurt your head?’ Whiz asked, with surprising sympathy.
Amy considered the question. Although she had the mother of all headaches, she didn’t think she had actually bumped her head. She shook it experimentally.
‘I was standing next to her when she fainted. She landed on one of the beanbags from the kid’s reading area,’ Emma said. ‘So I don’t think she’ll have hurt herself. But she went so quickly I couldn’t catch her. One minute she was sitting on the stool behind the till and the next, she tipped sideways, looking green.’
Amy began to feel heat seep into her face. Reluctant as she was to leave Patrick’s comforting embrace, she began to sit up. ‘Think I’m feeling a bit better.’ Patrick and Emma helped her up and sat her in one of the hard chairs leased for the signing.
‘Amy, have you had anything to eat today?’ Millie asked.
Amy thought and then blushed. ‘No,’ she squeaked.
‘Have you had much to drink?’
Amy shook her head and sipped more water, now held in a steadier hand. ‘Nothing alcoholic.’ She screwed up her eyes in an attempt to remember. ‘I had a coffee first thing but that’s been about it. I’ve been too busy,’ she added, apologetically.
‘Well, no wonder you fainted,’ Millie said matter of factly. ‘Do you think you can manage something now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Amy’s stomach revolted at the thought of the rich canapés.
‘Not party food. I’ll make you a sandwich. Ham salad do you? Or tuna mayo?’
‘Ham would be lovely, thank you, Millie.’ Amy looked up gratefully but she’d gone.
‘And once you’ve eaten and drunk that water, all of it, I’ll take you home,’ Patrick said, sternly.
‘But I can’t, I have to clear up,’ Amy protested.
‘Leave it to us,’ Emma said. ‘Between me, Ollie and Jed, we’ll have it done in no time.’
‘I’ll pitch in too. Only fair, after all you’ve done,’ Whiz added.
Amy bit back the tears which threatened. ‘You’re all so good,’ she croaked. ‘Thank you!’
‘What are friends for?’ Emma said simply. ‘Patrick, get the woman out of the way so we can get started.’
Patrick walked her through the glass corridor to the café proper and sat her at one of the pink painted tables. She could hear Millie bustling about in the kitchen. Her cockapoo padded up to them. As if sensing she was ill, he put his nose on her knee and looked up at her forlornly.
‘Hello Trevor,’ Amy cooed and stroked his head.
‘You’re already sounding better,’ Patrick said, sounding relieved. ‘I was just signing the last book and there was this almighty crash. And there you were, looking like death, lying on the beanbag.’
Amy put her face in her hands. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Now why, for the love of God, would you be embarrassed?’ When she didn’t answer, Patrick took her hands gently off her face. ‘You’ve slaved all day.’ He left her hands in his. ‘Worked so hard you didn’t have time to get nourishment into your body. And your body decided it had had enough. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Sure, it’s us who should be embarrassed, letting you shoulder the responsibility. And there’s me skedaddling off to the auld country, leaving you to it.’
‘But you had to go to Ireland.’
‘I did,’ he replied, not expanding.
‘Oh, there was a message for you,’ Amy suddenly remembered, sliding her hands from under his. ‘Someone rang this morning. A woman, Dymphna? She said you’d left your scarf at her place.’
‘Ah. So I did. I’ll pick it up next time.’
Amy, by now feeling a lot stronger but still very empty, was about to ask who Dymphna was, when Millie arrived with the sandwich.
‘I’ve made you a hot chocolate too. Thought the sugar would give you a boost. And there’s a slice of cinnamon apple cake.’ She gave Patrick a glance. ‘I’m sure if you can’t eat it all, Patrick will help you out.’
‘I will. I’m starving.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then and go and help the others. And, Amy, don’t worry about locking up. I’ll do it and leave the key in the café kitchen. You can pick it up from there tomorrow. Petra’s always in with the lark.’
Amy felt tears threaten again. To stifle them she picked up the sandwich and bit into it. Although hollowed out with hunger, she didn’t think she could face food. However, two bites in and she was eating ravenously. Pausing to drink some more water, she said without thinking, ‘I shouldn’t be eating like this really. I started a diet this morning.’
Patrick, halfway through the apple cake, looked up. He frowned. ‘Is that what this is all about? Are you starving yourself to get thin? For the love of God, why?’
Amy pushed the plate containing the remaining sandwich away. She looked out of the new bi-fold windows Millie had had fitted. They were tightly shut against the night. As the lights were on in the café, she could see only their reflection amid the blackness outside. She imagined looking in from the outside. Two people in an otherwise deserted café, like an Edward Hopper painting come to life. It made sitting close to Patrick feel painfully intimate and yet she was no nearer knowing him. She could sense him staring at her, waiting for her answer.
‘You think you’re fat,’ he said, bluntly.
She looked down at the table and sneaked a tiny piece of ham to a drooling Trevor. ‘Well, I am.’
‘So that’s why you didn’t eat today?’
‘No! I genuinely didn’t have time and forgot. But I do need to diet.’
‘Darlin’ girl, have you looked at yourself?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you look at yourself in the mirror?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Amy said, in a small voice, suppressing a shudder.
Patrick shook his head. ‘How does someone so clever, so talented, so capable, like you have no confidence?’
Amy met his look. It wasn’t the time to tell him about Lee. She was still too ashamed about it all. And she didn’t want to go into her father leaving, although she suspected that had kicked off the beginning of her insecurities. She went for a try at weak humour instead. ‘Have you met my mother?’
‘I have.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But, whatever mess our parents make of our heads, we can outgrow them.’ He took her hands again. ‘Amy darlin’ trust me, you’re beautiful and good. Kind and thoughtful. You’ve eyes a man could drown in and hair he could die lying beside. You don’t need to diet.’
Amy loved how his Irish accent escaped sometimes. She loved his voice. But then she loved him. Everything about him. His intellect, his kindness, his natural ease. Everything. She took a deep breath and went for an answer. ‘But I want to make myself happy.’
Patrick leaned back. ‘Starving yourself won’t do that. Find out what it is that is really making you unhappy, sort that and the rest will follow.’ He pushed her plate back to her. ‘Now, eat up and nourish your bones and I might even leave you a morsel of this grand piece of cake.’
It was hopeless, Amy thought, gazing at him. Moments like this in Patrick’s company made her the happiest she’d ever been. Then she thought about the mysterious Dymphna and wondered how she fitted into Patrick’s life. And what about herself? How did she fit into his life? He’d admired her eyes and hair and said kind things, but she was still just a friend. And she wanted so much more. Strangled by shyness and a lack of confidence, she couldn’t ask any of those questions. It was no good. Patrick had the capability to make her ecstatically happy but sink into the depths of despair at the same time. And she couldn’t see a solution. Picking up the remaining sandwich, she ate it without thinking.