12 REPERCUSSIONSDaisy’s hangover prevented her from eating the breakfast that she had ordered for seven thirty, but she ate a fresh one at ten thirty and enjoyed it, then she got ready and a gardener drove her to the hospital in Marbella. Ninety-five minutes later, she was sitting in a taxi on her way back home and looking forward to something to drink. She fancied lounging around the pool with a few beers and a book. At least nobody would bother her there, as it was her parents’ day for the chiropodist again.
She put on her bikini and some sun cream, and phoned the kitchen to bring her a cold box of San Miguel’s and a plate of tapas to go with her two Paracetamol tablets. It was a relaxing afternoon, but her brain was racing and she couldn’t shake off the fear that something was wrong, a
