Before I Saw You(83)

‘We made sure it was all in order before you came – everything’s been cleaned and there are fresh sheets on the bed. It’s always nice to come back to clean sheets, isn’t it?’ His mum’s eyes were starting to glaze over with tears.

‘Come here.’ Alfie pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. He knew she wanted him to stay close to her. The thought of letting him out of her sight again and back into the big wide world must be terrifying. He kissed the top of her head and then held her out in front of him. ‘I’ll be OK. I promise.’ He smiled.

‘I know, I know. I’m just being silly.’ She shook her head and laughed.

‘All good to go then, son,’ Robert announced, striding back into the hallway. ‘Call us if you need anything, OK?’ He patted him firmly on the arm.

‘Will do.’ Alfie felt a rush of sadness well up inside him. ‘And … thanks for everything.’

‘Right you are. Come on, love, let’s go.’ Robert steered his mum out of the door before she could try and resist.

‘Bye,’ Alfie called out, but the door had closed and he was speaking, for the first time in ages, to nobody.

*

Over the next few days, it became very clear to Alfie that the surprise welcome home party was just the start of the celebrations. He hadn’t needed to worry about being left on his own, as every day his flat was filled with people popping in and out, bringing an abundance of food, cards and good wishes with them. Great-aunts, cousins, neighbours and friends all passed through on an endless conveyor belt, and by the end of his first week at home, Alfie had to admit he was exhausted. There was no downtime, and although he’d spent nearly three months surrounded by people on the ward, this felt like it required a whole new level of effort. No time to shut the curtains and disappear into his own thoughts. No space to be alone with himself. Every day someone wanted to talk to him, to tell him how glad they were to see him and ask him how great it felt being home.

‘It must be such a relief to be out of that ghastly hospital ward at last.’

‘I don’t care how well they looked after you in there – there really is no place like home.’

‘You must be thrilled to have your own space again.’

He nodded and agreed, placating them with smiles and murmurs of acknowledgement, but he couldn’t shift the growing sense that he’d felt more at home in the hospital.

Maybe that’s because she was there.

The second thoughts of Alice crept into his mind, he shut them down. There was simply no point torturing himself any further. It hurt enough hearing her in his dreams each night, let alone allowing his waking hours to be consumed by her. His regular flashbacks now seemed to be continuously interrupted by the sounds of Alice, and every morning he’d wake delirious with the hope of turning over and seeing her hand outstretched, waiting for him. Instead he was met with disappointment and silence. He’d lie in bed staring at his ceiling for hours, until the realization that there would be another visitor arriving soon would pull him up and out and into the shower. Each day it became harder and harder to get moving, but he knew he had to, for everyone’s sake. This was the moment they’d all been hoping and praying for, and he couldn’t let them down now.

In between visitors and mealtimes, Alfie spent most of his days immersed in his puzzle books. He sought refuge in complex Sudokus and intricate word searches. He tried to exhaust his brain with the most challenging crosswords and riddles. But not even his most trusted vice gave him peace any more. It wasn’t the same without them. The back and forth between him, Alice and Mr Peterson was what made doing the puzzles so much fun. That was why he loved them so much: because they were doing them with him. Now he just had his own thoughts for company and that wasn’t much fun at all.

By the third week, he’d had to enforce a strict quota on how many times his mum came to visit. For the first couple of days, she’d casually turn up unannounced at his front door in the morning and refuse to leave until after dinner. Since then, it was decided she’d make weekly visits only and phone calls in between. But even that Alfie was finding arduous. Every time the phone rang his heart would sink, and every day his patience seemed to grow thinner.

‘Hi Alfie, it’s me.’

He took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm this time.

‘Hi Mum.’

‘How are you doing?’

‘Same as yesterday.’

‘Good, good. Have you spoken to your brothers at all? I’m meant to be Skyping them later.’

‘No. I’ll message them in a bit.’

Alfie could feel his fists clenching. Why did he find this so hard?

‘Well, make sure you do. They miss you.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Have you heard from anyone on the ward since you left?’

He loved his mum, he really truly did, but sometimes he wished she wouldn’t feel the need to constantly and relentlessly fire questions at him.

‘Nope.’

‘That’s a shame. You had some really great friends there, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ In response to the daily interrogation, he’d adopted the terrible habit of offering only one-word answers. Keep it short and sweet with no room for further questioning.

‘Why don’t you call the hospital, and we can see if we can go and visit?’