Necessary as Blood Read Free Page A

somehow got it all wrong.
    She had begun to contemplate asking the now obviously interested young men for directions when she saw the number, half hidden by the creeper trailing over the high wall. Beneath the number was an arched wooden door, its paint faded to a dull blue-gray.
    Checking the address against the scrap of paper in her bag, she saw that it was definitely a match. But where was the bungalow? Well, no point in standing gawping all day, she thought, walking up to the door and pressing the bell beside it. Her stomach suddenly tensed.
    She hadn’t seen her best friend in more than a year, and so much had altered for both of them. E-mails and phone calls had kept them up-to-date, but Hazel had seemed distant these last few months, and had said little about the reasons for her unexpected return to London. Gemma had begun to fear that their close relationship had changed, and then Hazel had asked that she visit without the children, a very unusual request.
    Toby had been clamoring to see Holly and had thrown a tantrum at being left behind, and Kit had gone silent, a sure sign that he was worried or unhappy.
    As Gemma was about to press the bell again, the small door swung open and Hazel stood framed in the opening, her face lit with a smile. She gathered Gemma into a fierce hug.
    “I’m so glad to see you.” Hazel stepped back and examined her,then tugged her through the door and closed it behind them. “And you look fabulous,” she said. “Engagement must agree with you.”
    “You, too. I mean, you look wonderful,” answered Gemma, awkward in an attempt to cover her shock. Hazel didn’t look wonderful at all. While she had never been plump, there had always been a bit of softness about her that made her particularly attractive. Now her cheeks were hollow, and her collarbone jutted above the neckline of the cotton sleeveless blouse she wore. Tan hiking shorts hung on her hips, as if they’d been borrowed from someone several sizes larger, and her feet were bare, making her seem oddly defenseless.
    “I know, I’m pale,” Hazel said, as if she sensed Gemma’s reaction. “It’s Scotland. We had no summer this year. I’m sure I must look as though I’ve been living in a cave. But enough of that. Let me show you the house.”
    Gemma took in her surroundings. The door in the wall had actually been a gate, and they stood on the brick patio Hazel had described, overarched by trees. Across the patio stood a white-stuccoed bungalow, its single story capped with a red tile roof. Yellow roses climbed up trellises on its front, and lemon trees in tubs stood at either side of the front door.
    “It is a bungalow,” Gemma said, delighted. “It’s a bit exotic for London, isn’t it?”
    “I call it my Secret Garden house.” Hazel took her arm. “I fell in love with it the minute I saw the photo online. I know it’s not Islington, but the neighborhood grows on you, and I could just barely afford it.”
    “Those boys—”
    “Tariq, Jamil, and Ali,” Hazel corrected. “They’ve taken to keeping an eye on me. Tariq said he wouldn’t want his old mum living all on her own. Quite took the wind out of my sails, I can tell you. Not that his old mum is likely to be more than thirty-five.”
    Hazel’s brightness seemed a little forced, and Gemma wondered if she were really as comfortable as she made out. But this, she sensed,was not the time to force the issue, and she followed Hazel obediently into the little house.
    The front door led directly into a sitting room that ran the width of the house. The walls were white, the floor tiled, so that the room seemed almost a continuation of the patio. One end held recessed bookshelves on either side of a brick fireplace, the other a dining area and a small, fitted kitchen set into an alcove.
    “It’s still a bit bare, but I’ve raided Ikea, and I’ve got books on the shelves, so that’s a start,” Hazel said. “And I’ve got tea, and wine in the fridge.