Free Kisses for Lula by Samantha Mackintosh

in.’
    ‘Mike was at work before six thirty this morning,’ I said.
    ‘What?’ said Mum.
    ‘Yep, he answered when I phoned to leave my sick message.’
    ‘Gosh. That’s early.’
    ‘I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ll see you later.’
    ‘Bye, Lula. Call me if you need me. And get some rest.’
    I hung up, rubbed my eyes and turned to Mona and the housemistress. ‘Arnold’s mum is on her way,’ I said, trying not to think about how angry a police sergeant could get with a person.
    ‘Don’t worry about your friend,’ said Mona as we made our way back to the sanatorium. ‘I’m sure there’s no permanent neurological damage.’ She smiled.
    I seized my chance. ‘Good – he would never forgive me if he lost his grasp on the theory of relativity.’
    Mona laughed. ‘Funny you should say that . . .’
    ‘Not funny at all,’ I said quickly. ‘Arnold is a science genius. He helped me yesterday with a load of project stuff I needed to get done before term started.’ I crossed my fingers and hoped I was still red enough from the bike ride to hide my shameful flushes.
    Mona blinked rapidly. ‘Really? I should know all aboutthat, but I . . .’ she trailed off. ‘Here’s the san. You’d better leave your dog out here. Will she be, um, okay?’
    ‘She’ll behave, if that’s what you’re asking,’ I said. ‘Sit, Boodle.’ Boodle thankfully sat, and I tied her lead securely to the railing outside.
    We went inside. It was cool, though sunlight streamed through high arched windows. I felt sweaty and underdressed compared to the clean crispness of everything, and smoothed my hair down with the flat of my hand.
    ‘He’ll be through here,’ said Mona, and she pushed open some French doors. We walked into a room of six beds, three down each side. They were all empty but for the last in the far corner under one of the enormous windows. Arnold lay propped up on pillows answering Nurse Wilton’s questions. He turned when he heard us come in and I watched his face freeze when he saw Mona.
    ‘Hi,’ said Mona at his bedside.
    ‘Does your head hurt?’
    ‘Agony,’ said Arns. Then he smiled at her, and my chest suddenly hurt with envy at the
I like you
look they shared. (What’s with the intimacy when
they don’t even know each other
?)
    ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Nurse Wilton, going across the room to open the door for Sergeant Trenchard and Dr McCabe.
    (Not Dr McCabe! He was always first on the scene to patch up the boys I’d had a hope of kissing – GianniCaruso’s fingers being the latest and most memorable incident – and I just couldn’t take that look on his face whenever he saw me now.)
    Sergeant T came clopping crisply across the floor. There was something different about her, but I felt too nervous to look at her directly. She dropped a kiss on Arnold’s forehead. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Fine, Mum. Thanks for coming.’
    ‘Hi, Sergeant Trenchard,’ I ventured.
    ‘Call me Hilda,’ said his mum, with a pat on my arm. I felt like crying, suddenly.
    ‘Okay,’ I said, and bent to tie the lace of my trainer.
    ‘I’m Mona de Souza,’ I heard above me.
    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Arns’s mum with no hint of surprise or recognition. ‘I’m Hilda Trenchard. Hilda.’
    I surfaced with a sniff to see Mona nod, smiling.
    ‘You look pretty today, Hilda,’ said Dr McCabe, tightening the armband of the blood-pressure kit round Arnold’s bicep. ‘And you’re looking great too, young man.’ His eyes flicked over to where I stood. ‘Despite the head injury. Despite the wounds.’
    I flushed.
    There was a little uncomfortable silence.
    ‘Elsa got hold of me this morning, Edward,’ replied Sergeant T. She smiled and winked at me from contact-lensed eyes. Her wild afro was pulled back neatly into achignon and she was wearing mascara and pale-pink lipstick. Ha! She’d had a makeover too! Good on Elsa. Arnold’s mum really did look pretty.
    ‘Blood pressure’s fine,’ said Dr