Free The Hollow Heart (The Heartfelt Series) by Adrienne Vaughan Page B

were doing, willing them to get better, showing them they were
loved, letting them know it was all going to be alright. Who was coming to see
her? Where was her loved one? Where was George? She climbed back into bed and
burrowing into the pillows, pulled the covers over her head.
    She must have sobbed for hours until she finally slept; the
picture of the policewoman and the horse clamped tightly in her raw-skinned
fist.
    It was around midnight and
the ward was uncommonly quiet, when the nurse whom Marianne had come to know as
Sister Jackson, made a rare appearance.
    “Dere you are Marianne, how are ya doin? Ya lookin’ a bit
peaky to me. Soon be time for you to go home. Dis place is not good for your
health.”
    Marianne managed a half-smile. Sister Jackson propped her
up, plumped her pillows and straightened the sheets.
    “I’ll go and get you a nice cup of hot chocolate for your
nightcap. Did you eat any supper at all dis evening?” Nurse Jackson eyed the
congealing bowl of stew. She whisked it away, disturbing the pile of magazines
and papers on Marianne’s bedside table. “You not botherin’ wit’ your personal
correspondence either?” She handed Marianne an envelope. “It could be good
news, Marianne, a well-wisher. Lord knows, we all need wishes and dreams these
dark days, a light at de end of the tunnel.” She flicked on Marianne’s beside
lamp as she trundled away.
    Marianne did not recognise the handwriting. She
half-heartedly opened the envelope, the same handwriting filled the page; it
was on notepaper from a well-known Knightsbridge hotel. It read…
    Dear Marianne,
    Just a brief note to send you best wishes for a speedy
recovery. I’m sorry I’ve not had a chance to visit, but schedules rule and we
are filming the end of the TV series, so I am going back to the States
tomorrow. Angelique has made a good recovery and will be flying back with me
and I hear, although Paul is still undergoing surgery, he will hopefully make a
full recovery too. Both Zara and Mike are fine, thank goodness, but still
shell-shocked as we all are. Don’t credit me with any heroics once you recover
enough to write your report, I had a friend who made no secret of his
association with an illegal organisation and told me what to do if I ever found
myself in a particularly explosive situation. Advice I thought I would only
ever need for a role, not real life! Ha!
    Take care of yourself and you never know, one day our
paths may cross again and I can recount more wondrous tales of the reckless
rogues, the lovely George and I once were. With every good wish, Ryan.
    PS: I’m sorry those bastards blew apart your dreams for
your campaign, I feel sure when things settle down you’ll get the show back on
the road. R
    Marianne stared at the
missive for some time. Well, what a surprise, how thoughtful, what a nice thing
for him to do. She felt quite moved by Ryan’s kindness and smiled again at how
little she knew of him and how, what bit she did know, reminded her of George,
protective, considerate and rather heroic. She drifted off to sleep, not sure
if she consciously thought or dreamed that George had sent Ryan to take care of
her, in that lovely, gently controlling way he had.

Chapter
Five –
After The Aftermath
    The very next day, Jack’s wife
Isabelle came to take Marianne back to Oakwood Avenue where Monty, hysterical
with happiness, tried to lick every inch of her as she eased herself onto the
sofa. Isabelle was reading a checklist of ready meals and, once satisfied with
this, busily arranged Marianne’s medication in the bathroom, presenting her
with a pile of books and magazines, topped off with a cluster of remote
controls and a telephone.
    “Supper’s in the oven. I’ll ring later and call by in the
morning.”
    “How’s Jack coping?”
    “He’s not! Grumpy as hell, without you and Paul to moan
about.”
    It hurt to smile.
    “He’ll be alright, we’ll all be alright,” Isabelle said. It
was statement of