Bea helped Gail out of the restaurant. ‘You’re ill. What’s your doctor’s telephone number?’ Gail leaned against the window of a newsagent’s. ‘It’s a Wednesday, isn’t it? The surgery’s closed on Wednesday afternoons.’ ‘You’ll get dehydrated if you go on like this. Suppose I take you to the Accident and Emergency department at the hospital?’ ‘I’ve been like this before. It wears off eventually. I’ve just thought of something that will help.’ She went into the newsagent’s, came out with a plastic bag which seemed to weigh heavily. She was wobbling a bit, but set off for the flats with Bea in tow. In the lift she leaned against the side, but managed to get her key into the door of her flat at the second attempt. Bea hovered, not knowing what best to do. Gail went into the kitchen with her purchase and came out pouring a can of Coca-Cola into a glass. It fizzed. Gail said, ‘Works wonders on an upset stomach. Add a few more grains of sugar to kill off the bubbles.
