I clench my jaw. She has got to be joking.
He tilts his head, inspecting her. “You’re prettier,” he replies, matter-of-fact. The boy has got good taste, just like his father.
“Do you want to help cook, Daniel?” she asks. “We can make a mess in your dad’s kitchen.” I raise my eyebrows, and she smirks back.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Should Daddy help as well?”
She looks between us. “Probably not. I’m not sure he knows how to operate half the devices in the kitchen. We’ll give him some of the easier tasks.”
I fire a napkin at her but take a seat at the breakfast bar. If she wants to go easy on me because I’m useless at cooking, that’s fine with me. I’m not a man who’s ashamed to admit his weaknesses.
She gets four saucepans and a frying pan on the go. “Damn,” she mutters, then looks at me apologetically.
“I’m pretty sure he hears worse language in school,” I say wryly. “In fact, he says worse things himself.”
My phone buzzes. “I need to take this work call, Elly.” I groan, rising from the stool.
She waves me away.
True to their word, my kitchen is a cooking tsunami when I come back. Daniel has food all down his top. “Daniel, go and get cleaned up. You’re a mess.”
He runs off to the bathroom. I grab Elly and pull her to me.
“Tristan,” she hisses. “Your son is here! Don’t touch me!”
I dip my head into her neck, my lips grazing her soft skin. I can’t help myself. My hands creep down her backside when my phone buzzes again. I groan, my head still buried in her neck. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to have to get this again.”
“It’s fine,” she murmurs, lacing her fingers with mine. “We have all the time in the world.”
***
Forty minutes later, and my agitation is at a peak. The building surveyor drones on in great detail about the repairs to the restaurant as I barely listen. Asha’s has received rave reviews, so Danny and I are opening a branch in Mayfair. I don’t have the patience to do this right now, it’s taking time away from Daniel.
A piercing scream makes my blood run cold. Elly. I drop the phone and sprint towards the kitchen, crashing into Elly running down the hallway.
“It’s Daniel,” she cries and my blood turns to ice. “Hurry, Tristan!” “Where?” I bark back.
“Bathroom!”
I charge into the bathroom and see every parent’s nightmare. My son sprawled across the floor; eyes closed. Is he breathing? Jesus, I can’t tell.
I fall to my knees taking his head in my arms, stifling a cry. “Daniel!” I shake his head gently. “Wake up, baby!”
Elly bursts through the door, panting.
“Elly, the phone!”
“Here…oh, God, oh, oh, God.” I jab 999 with trembling hands. “Emergency Services, which service do you need?” the operator asks.
“Hi, I, uh, we n-need an a-ambulance,” I stammer. “It’s my son! He’s unconscious!”
“What’s your name, and where are you calling from?” they prompt. How can they sound so fucking calm? I half scream the details.
“Can you tell me what’s happened, sir?”
“Christ, I don’t know!” I bark. “Just send a fucking ambulance.”
“Sir, I’ll need you to calm down. Is your son breathing?”
“Um, yeah. Yes, but it’s very weak!” I lean down to make sure that he is. His breath is barely there.
“He’s not responding to me.”
“I’ve dispatched an ambulance to your address, sir,” the operator explains with a continued calm.
“Does your son have any underlying conditions, sir?”
“No, nothing.” I close my eyes and summon a deep breath. “How long will it be?” “Where are you, sir?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Is there anything in the area that your son may have taken?”
“No, NO,” I snap. “When will the ambulance be here?”
“It’s two minutes away. Try to stay calm.”
“Tristan,” Elly whispers, grabbing my forearm with a shaking hand. I didn’t even notice her standing over me. “Tristan” she repeats. “Oh my God,” she sobs. “I th-think he got them from my bag.
I asked him to get my phone when we were cooking and he, he must…” I snatch the empty pill bottle from her. “What?” I snarl. “What are these?” “Valium.” She gulps.
She recoils as I yell “Valium! He’s taken Valium.”
“Can you determine how many he has taken?” the operator probes.
Fumbling, I check the bottle. “There were twenty pills in the bottle.” I don’t know, I can’t think.
Fear clenches my chest. “Please,” I wail. “Please hurry.”
“Ambulance is one minute away,” she says in a soothing voice. “Are any of the pills on the floor?” I scan the floor. “Um, some, four, maybe five.”
There’s a loud knocking on the front door. Elly runs out of the bathroom as I bundle Daniel in my arms and carry him to the hallway.
Three paramedics meet me with a stretcher. One of them feels his pulse while the other secures an oxygen mask around Daniel’s neck.
“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” I ask in a strangled voice.
“We’ll do our best, sir,” says the one checking Daniel’s pulse.
“Tristan, they’re unprescribed,” Elly whispers. “We can’t be sure what’s in them.”
I stare at her as I take in her words. “You have to be joking.”
“Where’s the pill bottle, sir?” one of them asks as they carry him out in a stretcher. I hand it over.
“Who owns these pills?”
“They’re my mother’s,” Elly sobs. “I brought them back from Wales. Tristan, I’m so sorry.”
“Why would you do that, Elly?” I snap, nostrils flaring. “Why would you bring drugs into my house with my child here? Do you realise the damage you’ve done?”
She trembles. “We had a fight in Wales. I wanted to take them away from her, get rid of them… I wanted to”
“Get out of my way, I don’t have time for this.” I push past her, grabbing my house keys. Daniel is all that matters right now.
Panic swells inside me as we climb into the ambulance. I grab Daniel’s hand and pray.