The following morning, Rose was thoroughly ‘under the weather’. She had tossed and turned for most of the night, sneezing and coughing. Finally, at five o’clock she had given up on sleep and was shuffling about the kitchen with a mug of hot Lemsip and a wet cold flannel pressed to her perspiring forehead.
“I’ll ring in for you,” her mother decided, “and on my way home from work I’ll bring you some cough medicine.”
“I should go to work,” Rose bit her lip, “it’s really busy; new clients continually signing up, trying to stop the old, disgruntled clients from leaving. And I’m supposed to be taking the security guard’s wife to the knitting club.”
“Never mind the knitting club,” Fran fussed around her, “your health comes first. Now go on back to bed. The house will be quiet today, your
