For the first few minutes I sit in silent shock.
‘I can’t believe that just happened,’ I say finally, turning to Gareth. ‘I can’t believe you hit him! That’s so not you!’
‘It seemed appropriate.’
‘It was appropriate. Wow.’ I shake my head and then grimace. ‘I think we put on quite a show for the nursing home.’
Gareth raises his brows. ‘I’m not sure how we’re going to top that for the fancy dress party.’
‘Fire-eating? Or some kind of trapeze act?’ I look down at my lap. ‘My poor phone.’
‘Your screen was cracked anyway.’
‘It was,’ I concede. ‘I didn’t see any point getting it fixed because I knew this was coming.’
‘From the premonition?’
I nod. ‘I didn’t know when it was coming exactly. I certainly didn’t think it was going to be today. But I’m glad it’s over with Tristan. It wasn’t right.’
‘Really?’
‘I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t missing anything,’ I say. ‘And now I’m really, really, really sure.’
Gareth nods and then looks a little distant.
‘I think it was that turning!’
‘Oh yes.’ His attention returns as he makes a swift U-turn.
‘Don’t forget your phone,’ I say, handing it to him as we park.
I noticed it buzzing repeatedly on our journey but didn’t say anything in case it was another burst of Freya calls.
‘Oh crap!’ he exclaims as the screen illuminates.
‘What is it?’
‘I completely forgot – I’m supposed to be picking up Peony, she got us tickets to a play. Let me just call her.’
I put my hand over his phone. ‘You have to go.’
‘I couldn’t possibly—’
‘You can possibly and, in fact, you will definitely. You’ve already done your bit. More than your bit,’ I emphasise. ‘Now will just be a lot of waiting around.’
‘But—’
‘The scan is just a precaution. You’ve seen my mum, she’s fine.’
‘But what about you?’
My heart pangs with appreciation. ‘I’ll call you if there’s a problem.’
‘You haven’t got a phone!’
‘I’ll use one at the hospital.’
‘Do you even know my number?’
‘I’ve got it on your card.’ I reach into my bag and pull out my purse to show him. ‘See!’
‘You still have that?’
‘Of course, I love that little smiling cactus.’
He chews his lip. ‘It doesn’t feel right leaving you alone.’
‘I won’t be on my own, I’ll be with my mum,’ I assert. ‘I need to get in and check on her, you go enjoy the play!’
I quickly slide out of the car before he can protest further and march through the automatic glass doors, cruising on false bravado.
*
I’m surprised to find the atmosphere at the hospital quite tranquil – there’s a flood of natural daylight in the lobby and a distinct absence of patients, though I suppose we’re ahead of Saturday night’s rush of drunken incidents. It’s jarring to think that Tristan could have been one of them. That taxi wouldn’t have seen him in time to brake. I shudder at the thought. But then I feel a sense of relief. That was the darkest element to my merged premonitions and it’s over. I am now free to use all of my worry tokens on my mum.
I get directions to her ward from the kind woman on reception, and then regret not having Gareth’s help to keep me on the right path. I’m sure I’ve already been down this corridor – she said second on the left, but they all look the same. Lino flooring stretching to infinity, shiny surfaces, signs taking you through the A to Z of ailments, clusters of old-fashioned chairs, swing doors with glass panels offering glimpses of people who’d rather not be seen.
It’s such a relief to finally find my mum’s ward. The nurse tells me she went straight in for her scan so she is already in situ in a bed – they want to keep her in overnight, just to be sure.
I nod and ask to see her, bracing myself before I do. It’s not a sight you ever want to see – a loved one in a hospital bed.
She looks so fragile in this brightly lit, sterile environment. I try not to stare at the strangers on either side of her, separated only by a curtain. Everyone looks a bit worn and dazed but the nurses are chirpy as can be.
‘Did you see my doctor?’ Mum asks as soon as she sees me.
‘Not yet,’ I tell her.
‘So handsome. He’s got hair like Tan France. There he is!’
She’s quite right – it’s a whisked-up, salt and pepper quiff, looking all the more monochromatic and stylish against his white coat. He smiles warmly as he approaches, assuring me that my mother is doing fine but they have given her something to help her sleep as they want her to get a good night’s rest. It’s possible it’s already kicking in, or is it that she’s looking dreamy and heavy-lidded because she’s gazing at him?
‘I see no reason why you can’t go back to your party.’
‘My party?’ I frown at him.
‘Sorry, I just thought from your outfit?’ He waves a hand over my scarlet flounces.
‘Oh,’ I shrug, ‘that party is over.’
‘Well, in that case, you’re welcome to visit again at nine a.m.’
He clearly wants me to leave her in peace.
I nod but I have no intention of going home, I want to stay close by in case something happens. I’ll find the nearest waiting room then let the nurses know that’s where I’ll be if they need me. For now, I gently take her hand, resting my cheek on it, wishing she would reach out and stroke my hair like she used to do when I was a little girl. But instead, I stroke hers. And then remove the flowers from my headdress and cluster them like a mini bouquet into the plastic cup by her bedside.
‘Have a lovely sleep, Mum. Sweet dreams.’
*
The nearest collection of seats is nothing more than that. It’s going to be weird sitting there without the distraction of a phone. I think I’d better source some vending machine snacks to keep me amused. I suppose it would be too much to ask for it to dispense some jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt? Although if I had some bamboo poles, I could probably make this dress into a personal teepee.
‘Excuse me, is there a snack machine nearby?’ I ask a passing nurse.
‘I’m one step ahead of you!’
I turn towards the voice. ‘Gareth!’ I gasp, amazed to see him laden down with crisps, Crunchies and three bottles of orange Lucozade.
‘I thought you’d probably be peckish.’
‘What about the play?’ I gawp at him.
‘I couldn’t leave you. I’ll go some other time.’
I look around me. ‘I want to hug you but I’m afraid Tristan will jump off some passing trolley.’
‘Just let him try!’ Gareth raises his free hand in a Bruce Lee slice.
‘Oh, I love this new side of you!’
‘So how is she doing?’ he asks, nodding down the corridor.
‘Good. She’s taken a shine to her doctor. He’s given her something to sleep so she’s resting now.’
He nods then looks down at the snacks. ‘You know, I could cook us some real food instead. We’d just be five minutes away. And you’re welcome to stay over, in case they called.’
I look at the uncomfortable chairs and then back at Gareth.
‘We can leave my number as the contact,’ he continues, not realising I’m already sold. ‘And I could do your favourite baked feta or a quick tamarind coconut stir-fry . . .’
‘Do you know what I really fancy?’ I say, after we’ve left his details with the front desk.
‘Tell me.’
‘Cheese on toast with Marmite.’
‘Really?’
‘If you had that squishy, grainy bread.’
‘I do have that squishy, grainy bread,’ he confirms. ‘I can also do a mix of three different cheeses.’
‘Now you’re just showing off.’
As we head out, we pass a worried-looking woman trying to settle three young kids. Even the iPad has lost its appeal. The eldest is trying to do a headstand on the chair, the middle one is pulling on her sleeve, the smallest is anxiously nibbling at her tiny nails.
‘Would you like some snacks?’ Gareth offers his armful. ‘We just got them but we don’t need them now.’
The kids’ eyes suddenly brighten, looking imploringly at their mum.
She looks at Gareth with cautious gratitude. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘Of course. Though I apologise in advance for any sugar rush antics.’
‘Oh, I’m having the chocolate,’ she assures him.
I chuckle and then smile at Gareth as he holds open the door for me. ‘You’re such a kind person.’
He looks back at me, almost baffled. As in, why would anyone be anything but kind?
‘I don’t think you realise how special you are.’
