“Come on, trouble,” I say to Izzy. “Let’s get you into bed.”
“No move,” Izzy mutters, and I do laugh this time.
“Yes, move, because thanks to you, spewy, I have to wash these bedsheets. You are not going to forget about this, I’m afraid,” I tell her.
“ ’Kay,” she agrees, holding the glass to her lips but not quite managing a sip. The mark on her temple is still red, and it’s starting to swell a little.
“How’s your head?” I ask, reaching out but pulling my fingers away before I touch it because Izzy winces. “Can you remember how you did it?”
“No.” She shakes her head and winces again. “It’s sore.”
“I bet.” I wonder where Dad keeps the painkillers—there were none in the first aid kit. “Do you think you can walk if I helpyou?”
“Maybe.” Her voice is starting to sound much clearer, and I send out a silent thank-you to the universe.
“Wait there.” I swing my legs off the bed and walk over to thedoor, the damp floor tacky underfoot as I pad into the hallway. “Noah?”
“Yeah,” he replies before he emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Is hecleaning? “How is she?”
“Surprisingly with it,” I say. “Actually, it’s not that surprising. Last Easter she was sick as a dog and then got up and passed her driving test the next morning.”
“Legend.” He grins. He throws the tea towel into the kitchen and follows me, holding out my key. I take it. “It was in the greenmug.”
“What?”
“The key was in the green mug, not the blue one.”
“Oh.” I could have sworn I put it in the blue, but I was rushing, I must have gotten mixed up.
When we get back to Dad and Kim’s room, Izzy has managed to put down the glass, move the pillows and perch on the end of the bed. I’m almost impressed.
“Come on, sunshine,” Noah says cheerily.
Izzy groans. “Who else saw me like this?”
“No one,” he lies, dodging the bin and holding out a hand. “Can you walk? Or do I need to practice my fireman’s lift?”
“Sod off,” Izzy grumbles, and we both burst out laughing.
She gets to her feet slowly and walks Bambi-like to the door as I shuffle behind her. I follow her to my bedroom as Noah trails behind, gingerly holding the wastepaper basket at arm’s length.
“I’ll get rid of this.” He wrinkles his nose as he pauses outside the bathroom. “Unless you want to do the honors?”
“Now who’s a legend?” I reply. I am not turning down that offer. “Thank you.”
“You owe me.”
I smile and catch up with Izzy so I can unlock the bedroom for her. I gently lead her over the threshold as she begins trying to get out of her shorts without unzipping them. I close the door behind us and give her a hand, though it’s like looking after a toddler. Finally, we get her pajamas on and she crawls under the duvet.
“Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?” I ask her.
“I need sleep.” She yawns widely and snuggles down.
I still don’t like the look of the bump on her head, but she’s gained a bit of color and is way more coherent than she was twenty minutes ago. Typical Izzy. I manage to get her propped up on several pillows and wait until she dozes off again. Then I turn on the bedside lamp and switch off the main light as I go, leaving the door open so I can hear her gentle snores.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Hey,” I say when Ifind Noah in the kitchen, surrounded by several cold pizzas. “Oh, great, I forgot about those.”