Barbara looked around the emergency department. Doctors ran everywhere trying to attend to countless misadventures and sudden medical emergencies. The doctor examining her ribs made her wince when he pummelled her. "I'm fine."

"You need to have these cuts dressed, and I think you've cracked a rib. Once your adrenaline levels drop, you will be a sore girl."

She glared at the young doctor, who looked like he hadn't started shaving. "It's a long time since I've been a girl, son." She emphasised the last word and got the desired response when his boyish face flushed red, and he mumbled an apology.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "It's just been a very… difficult day."

He smiled. "I can give you something to help you sleep."

"No, I have to go somewhere."

The doctor's long eyelashes fluttered as he looked at her with the sternest expression his baby face could muster. "You're not being discharged. We're keeping you in overnight for observation."

"I need to see how my colleague is."

"You mean the King of Spain's friend? He's rather fun, isn't he."

"That's probably one word I would never use for him. Will he be okay?'

"Yes, in a few days. He's had a very bad concussion. Something caught him on the temple, then he took a tumble and whacked the back of his head. The worst two places, but the scans don't show any brain swelling or bleeding. But he'll be with us for at least 72 hours just in case."

Barbara sighed. "Can I see him?"

"He's in the ward, in the private section. He's some sort of toff I was told."

"He's an earl."

The boy raised his eyebrows, but his soft skin didn't wrinkle at all. "An earl? Do you have to curtsy to him each day."

"Not bloody likely."

The two of them laughed as if in a secret conspiracy. "Your earl has been given a sedative. He'll be out of it for a few hours." The man looked at her, then grinned. "But I could send you to the same ward if you've got the right hospital cover."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "No, but I can afford it." On this occasion, she would let Tommy pay.

The young doctor winked. "Give me twenty minutes."

Tommy was in a private room just up the corridor from the two-bed ward that Barbara was assigned. She had hoped for company, but the other bed was empty. She looked around at how the other half got sick. There was none of the grey linoleum, steel frame beds or drab window dressings in sight. Instead, she could have been in a hotel room. The room was almost as large as her flat and had a pleasant outlook with The Eye just peeking over London rooftops. Folded neatly on the bed was a set of navy pyjamas with a matching robe. Grey slippers lay on the floor nearby. She opened the ensuite door to see a gleaming white room with gold accents. "I could get used to being treated here."

She rubbed her side and lay on the bed. It was surprisingly soft, and within seconds, her mind and body gave way to exhaustion.

Barbara woke to find a figure sitting by her bed, silhouetted by the light streaming in the window. "Tommy?"

"No, I'm sorry, it's me, Peter, Simon's father."

Barbara scrambled up the bed and rang her finger through her hair to try to look neat. "Prime Minster, I… I… wasn't expecting you." Where's Tommy when you need him to tell me the protocols of meeting the PM? "How's Simon?"

"Please, call me Peter. Prime Minister is my job, not my name. Simon's doing well. He's just along the corridor if you'd like to see him."

Barbara nodded. "And the dog?"

"He seems to have been named Pup. He has the distinction of being the only non-human patient that the hospital has ever admitted. He's with Simon, and he'll be fine. Number 10 has a reasonable backyard, so it looks like Larry the Cat will get some company."

Barbara smiled. "I'm glad. Simon was worried you wouldn't let him keep it."

"The boy was afraid of dogs before, even puppies. That's why we never had one. I love dogs."

"Oh, I'm pleased. He's a lovely boy and quite smart. If he hadn't found the hole in the wall, we'd still be… it wouldn't have been as happy an ending."

Peter squeezed her hand. "We know. And we're very grateful. Her Majesty also asked me to express her thanks."

"Her Majesty?" Barbara tried to stop her face from expressing complete shock but knew she failed when Peter laughed.

"Yes, my wife is a distant cousin of the Queen, and Simon is about 57th in line to the throne. Not that it makes any difference, but Her Majesty was very concerned. And very grateful."

Barbara smiled. "Just doing my job."

Peter shook her hand with sincerity that you rarely find in politicians. "Forever grateful, as we are. Thank you again, Detective Sergeant Havers. If there is anything you need… anything at all, please call me."

He handed her his card as if he were a plumber touting for business. She was rather pleased she had voted for his party. He seemed down-to-earth and genuine.

Barbara called the nurse and had him check on Tommy. He reported back that her boss was still asleep, so she decided to shower. The ensuite bathroom was better than her own bathroom, and the shower was hot and plentiful. Feeling more herself, she dressed in the monogrammed pyjamas and robe, then strolled down the hall.

Tommy was still asleep, so Barbara pulled up a chair and sat by his bed. With the sun falling across the room and onto the bed, his room was identical to hers, except that there was only his bed in it. With Tommy's snores sounding like the purring of a contented cat, she knew it was going to be a long wait.

There were some magazines on a table by the window. Barbara picked one with a bright cover and sat back to read about luxurious yacht adventures in the Mediterranean.

It was approaching noon when Tommy woke. His head felt as if he had drunk two or three bottles of bad whisky. "Ohhh…"

"Sir, you're back with us."

Tommy jumped. "Argh!... Havers?" He was greeted by a laugh that confirmed his suspicion. "Why are you in my bedroom?"

Tommy was struck by the horrible thought that they had made love and that he had no recollection whatsoever. A wave of anger at himself fought with disappointment for dominance of his emotions. Then guilt arrived. What will Barbara think of me?

"You're in the hospital. You have a concussion."

"Hospital? You? There was an explosion…"

"Yeah. All good. We got out."

Tommy closed his eyes and sank back into the bed. Barbara was alive.

"Sir?"

She was uncertain if he had fainted or simply fallen asleep, but the machine recording his blood pressure and heartbeat did not seem concerned, so she sat back. Within a minute, he was purring again.

"Good cat. You rest up." She leaned closer and whispered. "I still love you."

When he woke again, he opened one eye slowly. Barbara was still sitting in the chair, but her head had lolled to one side, and her breathing sounded like the roll of the sea. Good old Havers, his trusty sidekick. Life was never dull with her around.

"Havers?"

Barbara grunted and moved her head but gave no indication she was waking up. In fact, her breathing changed into a decided snore.

"Hey, Havers, can I share a secret? I adore you, even if you do snore like an out-of-tune church organ."

When Barbara woke, Tommy was sitting up and grinning at her. "Hiya," she said, unable to think of anything more sensible.

"Good afternoon, Barbara. They tell me you have your own room on this floor and that I agreed to pay for it, but apparently, you prefer mine."

"I wanted to see you're okay."

"It seems so. Although everyone keeps asking me how the King of Spain is today and whether his dental problems have been resolved. What's all that about?"

"Ah, the King of Spain has lost his teeth. They fell out and rolled beneath the old throne on which he sat. The queen should get him a new hat."

"What? Where did that come from?"

Barbara grinned at him so hard Tommy thought her face might crack open. "That's all you were saying yesterday. Over and over. It's a bit catchy, but in an annoying Baby Shark sort of way."

"Pups. Baby sharks are pups, but what on earth are you on about? I've only met the King of Spain once, and his teeth were fine."

"Ahhhhhh… hahahaha. Oh, don't make me laugh. I've cracked a few ribs."

"Sergeant Havers, stop laughing at me and explain exactly what happened yesterday."

Barbara stopped laughing at him then pointed and laughed again. Tears started to stream down her face and when she held her side, she looked like a pantomime actor pretending to be a teapot. He couldn't help himself and dissolved in laughter.

That set off one of his machines. A nurse came running. "What on earth? Calm down. Both of you or I'll have to send you back to your room, Ms Havers."

That was the end of them – they both laughed uncontrollably. The nurse tutted then turned on his heels and stormed off.