Just The Way You Are(82)

Despite every inch of me sagging with fatigue, my cheek muscles somehow found the strength to smile.

Knackered but OK, thanks





A second later came a reply:

Too tired to talk? Or type?





Smile growing, limbs instantly re-energised, I dialled Sam’s number.

It was an hour or so later I finally fell asleep, still clutching the phone, Sam’s soft laughter and gentle conversation like a lullaby, soothing all the what-ifs away.





27





The morning was only bearable thanks to a dog walk, pie-making and Joan’s insistence that we tidied up the worst of her house in case Carole and Peter wanted to see it. However, it was two jangling bags of nerves that rode up in the hospital lift the second visiting hours opened.

‘I feel worse than yesterday,’ Joan said.

‘Me, too,’ I added. ‘I don’t know why.’

‘Because if Nana and Grandad were angry and horrible, then we could just go home and forget about them. If Mum’s angry then she might not want to be friends with you any more.’ Joan looked at me then, eyes round as it hit her. ‘She might not let me keep staying with you!’

I swallowed hard and somehow wrestled a reassuring smile onto my face. ‘That won’t happen. It’s going to be a big surprise, and she might need some time, but I’m sure she’ll understand that we were only trying to help.’

Joan scoffed. ‘Well, I’m not at all sure, and I know her better than you. I think you should be more prepared for this to be a complete disaster, Ollie.’

‘Thanks, Joan, that’s really encouraging advice when we’re about to go and break the news.’

‘Sorry, but I think we need to be realistic. There’s only a tiny chance that she won’t totally freak out.’

‘Then why are we going through with it?’ I asked as the lift doors opened. ‘Why did we even start this in the first place?’

‘Because a tiny chance is still a chance. And that makes it worth it.’ She stepped out and started marching towards the ward entrance. ‘Now, are you going to tell her or shall I?’

Before we had a chance to decide, my phone rang. Thinking it might be Carole, I whipped it out of my bag and saw that it was in fact Steph. For Steph to phone me on a weekday afternoon was unusual enough to make me answer.

‘Hey, everything all right?’ I asked.

‘Yes, fine. Are you okay, you sound stressed?’

‘I thought it must be an emergency.’

‘Oh, no, I’ve got the afternoon off, had a doctor’s appointment. So now I’m feeling depressed and was looking for something to cheer me up, and then I remembered your party.’

‘My party?’ I glanced at Joan, who was making impatient gestures in the direction of the ward.

‘Yes. How are the plans coming along? Have you got a date yet? Because I was thinking that you might as well go for your actual birthday. I mean, how often does a thirtieth end up on a Saturday? But you would need to decide soon, so that other people don’t start making plans, and although that’s not that long away, it’s plenty of time for us to—’

‘Yes.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, great idea. I’ll have it on my birthday.’

‘Fantastic! Let me just… there… it’s in my calendar. So. What about the theme? I presume you’re not going to stick to Harry Potter and drunk Jenga! I mean, with it being August you can use that amazing garden, do something outside.’

Joan was gripping two huge handfuls of hair and pulling on them, face screwed up in frustration.

‘Fine, yes. I’ll have a… barbecue?’

‘Okay, good idea. But you do need a bit more than that, for it to be worthy of the Dream List. What other ideas have you got?’

‘Um, to be honest, Steph, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back.’

For the first time since I’d got a phone for my thirteenth birthday, I hung up on her. By the time I’d slipped my phone away, Joan was already pressing the intercom buzzer for the door to the ward.





In the end, neither of us had to find the gumption to bring it up. As soon as she saw Joan, Leanne’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern.

‘What’s up, Diamanté Butterfly?’ she asked, leaning forwards in the hospital armchair.

Joan looked straight at me.

‘You look good today. How are you feeling? Great to see you out of bed!’ I garbled, causing Leanne’s eyes to shrink into slits.

‘It’s my liver that’s malfunctioning, not my brain. Stop wittering and tell me what’s going on.’

Oh boy. Here we go.

All the introductions and lead-ups and half-baked explanations that had been swirling around my head evaporated.

‘Your parents are here.’

Leanne froze, her hand gripping Joan’s so tightly that she winced. Then all at once, it was as though every bone in her body turned to liquid. She collapsed against the back of the chair, face draining to a stark white, eyes blank, mouth slack.

I held my breath, clueless as to whether Leanne’s shock was going to flip into anger, or melt into tears. But her daughter did indeed know her mother far better than me. After a few seconds, Joan picked up her hand. ‘It’s true, Mum. They’re really here, and they really want to see you.’