Necessary as Blood Read Free Page B

Life’s essentials.”
    Gemma recognized the pink-and-red-floral sofa and red-checked armchair from a recent Ikea catalogue. Hazel had added an ottoman, an end table with a lamp, a rag rug, and baskets filled with magazines and knitting yarns, a comfortingly familiar touch. The dining furniture was pale wood, pleasingly simple, and Gemma thought it, too, had come from Ikea. A vase filled with red tulips stood on the table, another familiar touch. Hazel had always had flowers in the house.
    It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why Hazel hadn’t brought anything from Carnmore, her house in Scotland, or from Islington, when Hazel said, “It’s a doll’s house, really. Reminds me of the garage flat. Do you remember?”
    Hearing the hint of wistfulness, Gemma squeezed her friend’s arm. “Of course I do. It’s only been—” She stopped. Had it really been that long?
    Gemma had rented the tiny garage flat behind the house in Islington where Hazel had lived with her daughter, Holly, and her now-estranged husband, Tim Cavendish. It had proved both sanctuary and launching pad, allowing Gemma to regain the confidence so badly damaged by her marriage, and to move on in her personal as well as her professional life. Hazel had cared for Gemma’s son, Toby, who was the same age as Holly, and had provided Gemma with a stability she’d never felt in her own home.
    Then an unexpected pregnancy had propelled Gemma into a new life with Duncan Kincaid, and a few months later, Hazel’s marriage had collapsed and she had moved to the Scottish Highlands to take over her family’s whisky distillery.
    “It will be two years at Christmas,” Gemma said wonderingly. Two years since she and Duncan had moved into the house in Notting Hill with Toby and Duncan’s son, Kit, two years since she had lost the baby.
    “There’s only the one bedroom,” Hazel was saying. “But when Holly stays, she’s comfy enough on the sofa. And of course she usually manages to creep in with me.”
    “When Holly stays?” asked Gemma, brought sharply back to the present. “What do you mean, when Holly stays? Isn’t she with you?”
    Hazel looked away, started to speak, then gestured towards the kitchen. “I’ll just put the kettle on, shall I? And then we’ll have a proper talk.”

CHAPTER TWO
    It was the summer we became orphans…
    —Emanuel Litvinoff, Journey Through a Small Planet
    He struggled up from the dream, grasping for consciousness the way a drowning swimmer gasps for air. For an instant he seemed to breach the surface, and with an effort of will forced his lips to move.
    “Sandra.” In his mind, he heard his own rasping whisper. But then the fog lifted a bit further, and he realized that he hadn’t spoken at all, that even his plea had been part of the dream. “Wha—,” he managed, and this time he was sure he had spoken, but his dry lips felt foreign, as if they belonged to a ventriloquist’s dummy.
    “Where—” It was only a thread of sound, but encouraged, he attempted to blink. The sudden flare of light seared his eyes, and the accompanying wave of pain carried him back into comforting dimness.
     
    Hazel took the armchair, settling into the curve of it and tucking her feet up as if she needed the comfort. She’d brought a tray holding ared teapot and mugs, a jug of milk, and a plate of mixed biscuits from a supermarket package. It was the first time Gemma could recall Hazel offering something she hadn’t made herself. Hazel had remembered, however, just how much milk Gemma liked, and poured for her before filling her own cup and cradling it between her hands.
    Gemma felt the hint of a breeze from the patio windows, and thought she caught the scent of lemons. The voices of the boys in the street came faintly from beyond the wall.
    When Hazel didn’t speak, Gemma said slowly, “I thought, when you said you were coming home, that you and Tim might be getting back together.”
    “No.” Haltingly, Hazel went on, “I