“Not my apartment.” She was struggling to walk in a straight line. There was no way she’d make it up the final flight of stairs to her room. The way she felt, she’d happily sleep in the stairwell.
“You’re spending tonight in mine, so I can keep an eye on you. I’m going to make you a strong coffee, and you’re going to take a shower and drink lots of water.”
“Need to lie down.”
“Shower first.” Grace coaxed her into the bathroom, and Audrey clutched the wall for support as Grace tugged off her clothes.
“I’ll drown.”
“You’re not going to drown.” Grace turned on the jets and nudged Audrey into the spray.
Icy jets of water sprayed her, and she gasped, her head clearing a little.
Then Grace was wrapping her in a large, soft towel and guiding her to the sofa.
“Sit there for a moment.”
Audrey sat, shivering like Hardy after a bath.
She felt sicker than she ever had in her life before.
But Grace was there, encouraging her to drink a large glass of water and then a small cup of black coffee that was so strong Audrey almost choked again.
“Shorry. Didn’t mean to drink.”
“Don’t think about it now.” Grace took the cup from her and put a couple of pillows on the sofa. “Can you lie down or does your head spin?”
Audrey tried it, and decided it was bearable. She closed her eyes and a moment later she was enveloped by softness as Grace wrapped her in a blanket.
“Grace?”
“Yes, honey.”
“I know you wear tights in the middle of summer and dress like a granny, but you’re very kind.”
That was the last thing she remembered.
When she woke, fingers of sunlight were poking through the shutters. Grace was sitting across from her. She looked pale and hollow-eyed.
Audrey groaned and lifted her head. “What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Ten!” Audrey tried to sit up but her head exploded and she lay down again. “I’m late for work again. Elodie will fire me.”
“It’s Sunday. We don’t open until twelve.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes, but that made the spinning worse so she opened them again. “I remember you giving me water in the night. Have you been there the whole time?”
“I thought you might need me. How are you feeling?”
“As if my head is being crushed by a heavy object.” She eased herself upright, trying to minimize movement. “I remember everything. I remember Marc and the vodka. I remember being in the bathroom of that place, and you holding a kitchen knife.”
“Marc?”
Audrey groaned and pushed her hair back from her face. “It was his party. He kept pushing drink on me.”
And it turned out she was exactly like her mother. How many times had her mother slept on the sofa because she couldn’t quite make it up to the bedroom?