A frown alighted on her face as the front door was closed with a firm slam. She lay still, straining to hear who may have left, and sure enough, the voices of Gordon and children floated up to her from outside. She slid out of bed, wincing as she did so, and padded to the window. With a hand upon her stomach, she moved aside the net curtains, just enough to allow her to see Gordon's dark green car reversing from the drive, before turning, and speeding down the road. Her frown deepened as her fingers absentmindedly massaged the incision site. Neither Gordon nor the children had come up to see her before they'd left. And he knew she was awake, he'd spoken to her! A glance at the clock on her bedside table told her the time wasn't particularly late; they could have spared a couple minutes.
Walking slowly towards the bathroom, the pain intensified, banishing all thoughts of her family's quiet departure. It was definitely time to take some more painkillers. She dressed as quickly as she could, though as time wore on, each movement slowed, until she was clenching her teeth against the tears forming as she buttoned her blouse. Yet she couldn't allow herself to leave her bedroom just yet. Her hair would have to be fixed, and a little makeup applied; she couldn't let Sarah see her in anything less, she had a reputation to keep up, after all.
And so it was a further 10 minutes later that she finally began the descent of the stairs. A hand flew to her mouth as she reached the middle of the staircase, smothering the sob she emitted. She cursed herself, cursed her condition, cursed the whole situation. The anger served to spur her on, allowing her to reach the kitchen with no more lapses of composure. Still, her hands shook terribly as she fought to open the jar of pills. Two were extracted and swallowed, and she finally allowed herself to sink into one of the kitchen chairs, taking slow sips of cold water to steady herself.
It was a further 15 minutes until she felt able to make her way into the living room to join Sarah and Jonathan. "Hello Sarah." She smiled kindly, picking her medical journal from the coffee table and easing herself into the armchair. "And hello Jonathan." She winked at her son who giggled, outstretching his arms towards her.
"Would… Would you like him Mrs Ormerod?" The younger woman asked hesitantly, averting her gaze. This in itself seemed odd to Jill; she was a shy girl, but she seemed to have come out of her shell in the few months she'd worked as their au pair. But she said nothing, merely nodding and holding out her arms for her son, thanking Sarah when he was placed in her lap. If the situation continued she might enquire, but for now, she didn't want to make the girl feel any more uncomfortable than she already was.
"Aren't you growing fast?" She grinned, shifting him to a more comfortable position on her lap; he was certainly getting heavy. He made an unintelligible noise then, reaching for the journal in his mother's hand. "Ah, I don't think you'll enjoy reading that son. There are no bears or talking trains in there. Ah, I see." She continued when she relinquished her grasp and he promptly dropped it to the floor. "You take after your Daddy don't you? He thinks I read too many journals too."
A peaceful morning was thus spent. Jill alternately read and played with Jonathan. Sarah cleaned and did some ironing. These were not her normally duties, but with Jill out of action, and Gordon's longer hours at the hospital as a result, Gordon had deemed it wise, and had thus increased Sarah's pay. Sarah then prepared lunch for them all, informing Jill that she had used the last of the bread. The doctor made a mental note to inform Gordon, she was sure he would ring to enquire as to her health as he had done the previous day.
It was in fact whilst they were eating lunch that the telephone did ring. Sarah got up to answer it, returning with a concerned expression on her face. "That was the school Mrs Ormerod. They said Tom's been sick."
"Oh dear." Jill's face fell, a pang of worry sweeping through her. "Okay erm, can you go and fetch him please? You can leave Jonathan here. Oh and," She rose, making her way through to the hall and pulling her purse from her handbag on the coat rack. "Take a taxi; he'll be in no fit state to walk. This should cover it." Some money was handed to the au pair who nodded and promptly set off for the school.
Jill thus set about preparing the living room for her step-son. His blanket and pillow were fetched from upstairs, along with his favourite stuffed toy. The bucket was retrieved from beneath the sink and her medical bag from the hallway cupboard.
She then settled down to help Jonathan finish his lunch whilst her worry, for a child who wasn't strictly her own, grew. She prayed it wasn't serious.