Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (good beach reads .txt) 📕

I’m okay,’ I say with a sigh. ‘I keep thinking how awful Mum’s last moments must have been with no one to help her.’

‘Don’t dwell on it. It’s not your fault. The post-mortem said she had four times the driving limit of alcohol in her blood, and it was obvious she’d been drinking herself into an early grave for years.’

I pat Derek’s hand and smile at him. ‘Thanks. I really appreciate your support.’ The post-mortem had been a worry and I’d been hugely relieved when the accidental death verdict was announced.

‘I’ve been thinking about your situation,’ Derek says, watching me carefully. ‘You do know you’ll have to give the house back to the Housing Association soon?’

I nod and resist the urge to tell him I’m not stupid.

‘I’d like to offer you my spare room. I was thinking of getting a lodger at some point but I’m not supposed to sublet. If you take it at mate’s rates we could tell anyone who asks that we’re a couple.’ He must see the horror on my face because he adds, ‘I’d leave you alone, of course. I’d give you privacy.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, but I’m going to have a fresh start at a new life. Did you bring the documents?’

He pulls a brown envelope from his jacket pocket.

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I’d never let you down.’

I open the envelope with barely contained excitement. I’m going to tell Mark I need a new name to stop reporters coming after me, and I’m going to move in with him on a more permanent basis. The police won’t find me now. I pull out my new driving licence and examine it. Yes, the name has a certain ring to it. I like it. From this moment on I’ll be known as Grace Cavendish.

Chapter 52

The Following September | Jenna

My breath wheezes through my constricted throat, my heart thuds against my ribs and my eyes bulge as I stagger around the kitchen. Where’s my EpiPen? I’m sure I left it on the table, but it’s not here now. Oh, God, help me.

‘Mum!’ A faint rasp is the only sound to emerge through the sadistic grip on my windpipe. I don’t know what to do. If I try to make it to the lounge I might pass out. Mum may not find me in time. My throat will carry on swelling until it closes completely. My lips and cheeks are tingling and my skin is on fire. I must find my EpiPen. Only an injection of adrenaline will save me now.

I swivel my head frantically from left to right, scanning the worktops. My vision blurs as the room flashes past my eyes. I can’t focus. I want my mum. I need Mum. I see the vase of bright sunflowers on the table and in a flash of inspiration I sweep my arm out and send it crashing to the hard stone floor. Shards of china and water explode across the kitchen and hit my legs.

‘Are you all right, Jenna?’ Mum calls from the other end of the house.

I can’t reply. My vision is turning red and I’m going to pass out any minute now. I push a chair over and it hits the floor with a clatter then I lean against the wall and slide down it to avoid falling.

‘What’s going on?’ It’s as though Mum is calling to me from a distant hilltop and there’s a whole valley of countryside between us. The sun drops beyond the horizon and darkness descends.

I wake to the soothing sensation of a hand stroking my hair back from my forehead and Mum’s gentle, comforting voice.

‘It’s okay, Jenna. I’m here. I’m looking after you.’

I feel disorientated but safe. Mum will care for me as she always does. She knows what to do. I relax under her calming ministrations, then, without warning, I see with sudden clarity an image of Mum on her death bed and me stroking her hair. Cold dread takes a bite from my heart. No, no, no! It’s not meant to be like this. I’m too young to lose my mum, the most important person in my world. I can’t bear it. I want to die with her. Tears well in my eyes, run across the bridge of my nose and gather in my right ear.

‘Don’t cry, love. You’re okay. We’ll give you another injection in ten minutes and the ambulance will be here soon.’ Mum takes a seat pad from a kitchen chair and places it under my head with aching tenderness. ‘What have you eaten?’

My mind struggles to grasp what has happened. I raise my head and see an EpiPen cartridge lying on the floor in a puddle of water. Fragments of china, like broken teeth after a fight, are littered around the empty medication tube. The blue cap has been ripped off and discarded nearby and the needle is encased in the retractable orange plastic again. I remember gasping for breath. ‘Where was my pen?’ I can only whisper but Mum understands me.

‘I couldn’t find it so I fetched a spare one. You really should keep it in your pocket, Jenna. In fact, remember what the doctor said? You’re supposed to carry two on you.’ Mum reproaches me but she’s only trying to keep me safe.

‘It was on the table. I got changed to muck out the stable and I didn’t have a pocket so I’d been carrying it around,’ I rasp. I know I put it on the table when I came in.

‘We need to buy you one of those little bags to strap around your waist for when you don’t have a pocket.’

‘You don’t understand, Mum. I definitely put it on the table.’ Someone moved it, I’m certain now. But only Grace and Lucy have been here. Did Grace move it when she was cleaning or did Lucy knock it when she dumped her bags on the table? I can’t see it on the floor.

‘Well, it’s not