Blink(61)

I raised my elbows briefly to ease the clammy feeling under my arms.

I couldn’t think what to say, but I also couldn’t stop staring at her. For a few seconds, it seemed as if only a diluted version of Mum remained, compared to the woman who had so recently stormed out of my house in a self-righteous strop.

I looked at her wide, cloudy blue eyes, her pale, soft skin, the way she kept biting the inside of her lip to keep the tears at bay. Mum was only in her late sixties, but this had unnerved me.

‘You probably just forgot to move them,’ I mumbled, trying to mask my concern. ‘We’ve both had a lot on our minds with Evie being unhappy at school and everything.’

‘It’s all swollen.’ Mum looked down at her roughly bandaged lower leg. ‘I’m waiting to see someone else now, who’s going to do a more thorough job.’

‘I can sit with you for an hour and then I’ll go and pick up Evie,’ I said, patting Mum’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll both stay over at yours tonight.’ We sat mainly in silence. I tried to make bits of inane conversation but, understandably, Mum wasn’t in the mood.

I glanced at my watch; it was three forty-five.

Mum’s pale, clammy face looked waxen and her eyes were half closed. I could see she was in a lot of pain, despite the tablets they’d given her to take the edge off while she waited for her treatment.

I sighed and stood up. Mum had been waiting for over two hours now; it was time to ask some questions of the staff. At that moment, a male nurse appeared and called her name. We helped her into a wheelchair, which I pushed after the nurse, narrowly missing a scarpering toddler’s foot and earning myself a torrent of brusque-sounding words from a large Italian woman.

I smiled graciously and pointed to a sign which informed parents they must supervise their children appropriately.

‘Let’s get her in here,’ the nurse said, indicating a large side room off the main space. He closed the door behind us and a quiet calm instantly settled the charged air. I let out a long breath.

‘I know, crazy out there, isn’t it?’ He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, this isn’t busy. Compared to last week, anyway.’

He sat in front of a computer and tapped at the keyboard. After a couple of seconds, he swivelled round in his chair to face Mum.

‘OK. Anita, isn’t it? I’m Tom. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you sorted out, love.’

Mum looked up forlornly and nodded. I felt a rush of emotion; I wanted to cuddle her close, like I’d do with Evie. ‘Can you tell me what happened to your leg?’

Mum was weary but I let her tell Tom in her own words. She didn’t mention her memory concerns.

Tom began to open various pieces of sterilised equipment. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was a couple of minutes before four o’clock. I had to say something.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to Tom. ‘I have to go and pick my daughter up from school.’

‘I see.’ He looked at Mum and I followed his stare. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

‘That’s OK, isn’t it, Mum?’ I said, alarmed. ‘I’ve got to pick up Evie, remember?’

Mum nodded but didn’t reply. She seemed totally out of it.

‘Is there no way you can stay with your mum?’ Tom pulled a wad of cotton wool out from a packet. ‘I think she really needs you to be here for her.’

I swallowed down a lump in my throat and tugged at the top buttons of my work blouse to let some air in. For a second I felt like bursting into tears myself. I hadn’t got anyone I could call on to help me with Evie, yet I really wanted to be there for Mum. But Evie’s safety was paramount.

And then I remembered.

‘Give me a sec,’ I said, pulling out my phone. ‘I might be able to sort something out.’





52





Three Years Earlier





Toni





I walked outside and called Bryony’s number. Her phone rang but went to voicemail. I tried again and left a message.

‘Hi, Bryony, it’s Toni here. I know it’s ridiculously short notice, but I was calling to see if you could pick Evie up at four thirty? I’m still at A&E with Mum. She’s a bit shaky and I’d rather not leave her unless I have to.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘If you can let me know in the next five minutes, that would be great, otherwise I’ll go and get her, no problem.’

I ended the call and rang the school office at St Saviour’s Primary.

The answerphone picked up right away. ‘The office is now closed . . .’

I thought about leaving a message but decided to end the call. My mind felt fuzzy, clouded by worry about Mum and concern over Evie. It wouldn’t hurt to wait for a few minutes outside, get a few breaths of fresh air and see if Bryony rang back.

The air was fresh and still damp from a recent shower. I looked down at the ill-maintained layer of concrete outside reception that was long overdue for replacement. A cooling breeze fanned my hot face and neck and for a moment I felt like sitting down there and then to gather my thoughts.

I imagined Bryony picking up my phone message and rushing out to her car. I’d been astounded this afternoon that she’d seemed so understanding and, more than that, genuinely helpful. Maybe she was beginning to thaw at long last. Daft as it sounded, sometimes it took a crisis to give people the impetus to get along.