“Even families without much money would try to put on a good ‘do’. —Gilda O’Neill, East End Tales The next thing Gemma knew, Duncan was stroking her cheek and saying her name, urgently. Then he turned his head and shouted for Kit and Toby. She winced. “Ouch. Don’t shout. It hurts my head.” “Gemma, are you okay? What happened there?” His face was inches away, his eyes intent. “Just a bit dizzy,” she mumbled. “I’m all right.” She liked his hand on her face. It felt warm, and she pressed her cheek ...against it, closing her eyes against the light. But he tightened his grasp, using his other hand to turn her head. “Open your eyes, Gemma. Look at me,” he said sharply. “The light makes my head hurt,” she protested, but complied. “Your pupils aren’t normal.” He sounded as if he was angry with her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” The boys came thundering down the stairs, the dogs at their heels, barking excitedly at the commotion. The noise made Gemma’s head feel like it was going to split open.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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