Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Despite órlaith’s best Angela Lansbury impersonation, she doesn’t find out much about John. She knows he was discharged after twenty-four hours and someone organised for him to go to a charity-run homeless shelter. She doesn’t know if he actually made it there, or how long he can stay. I’m filled with sadness to think John may end up on the streets again. And if he does, in this weather the outcome won’t be as good next time.
I find that the first person I want to tell is Shayne, but I don’t have his number, and calling round to Malcolm’s house to deliver something that may be bad news or may be just plain gossip doesn’t feel right. I try to keep busy, which is easy with every bed on every ward full, and cross my fingers that Shayne brings Malcolm back today.
Thankfully, just after lunchtime I hear the familiar gruff voice and someone saying, ‘No, Grandad, I can’t ask them for an armchair.’
On the ward, I find Malcolm sitting next to MrsMorgan’s bed again. He’s shifting in the plastic chair and complaining. ‘This thing is as hard as a rock. I better not get haemorrhoids, I tell ya.’
‘Grandad!’
‘The beds aren’t much better,’ MrsBrennan croaks across the ward.
‘Oh, stop complaining,’ MrsMorgan grouses back. ‘Settle down, Malcolm. Rest your bones.’
‘Or sit here,’ MrsBrennan says, pointing to the chair beside her bed. ‘It’s softer. Better for the…you know…the situation.’
The chair beside MrsBrennan’s bed is identical in size, shape, colour and texture. In fact, I’m willing to guess every chair in the hospital is the same, solid bluey-grey plastic.
Malcolm picks up the chair beside MrsMorgan’s bed and attempts to carry it across the ward. He makes it halfway before he needs to set it down to catch his breath. Shayne hurries over to help.
‘Where do you want it, Grandad?’ he asks.
Malcolm points to MrsBrennan’s bed and then returns to MrsMorgan’s bed and extends his hand. She looks at him, and I can almost see time rewind in her eyes. As if she’s a young woman, being asked by a handsome young man to dance.
‘Will you join me?’ he asks.
She smiles and take his hand. He helps her into her fluffy maroon slippers, and holds her dressing gown open so she can slip her arms in. Then they walk over hand in hand and sit down on the waiting seats beside MrsBrennan’s bed.
‘Do either of you ladies play poker?’ Malcolm asks.
‘Grandad,’ Shayne says, in the same tone I use on the very rare occasions when I pull Ellie up on naughty behaviour.
‘Chess was fun, but I think we should play a real game now,’ Malcolm goes on, with a cheeky wink. ‘What do you say?’
‘I don’t know how to play poker,’ MrsMorgan confesses.
‘Me neither, I’m afraid,’ MrsBrennan adds.
‘Not to worry. It’s nothing I can’t teach you,’ Malcolm says, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a deck of cards.
Shayne’s face is a picture as he looks on open-mouthed.
‘Is this all right?’ he asks me, as if I have the authority to approve anything around here.
‘So long as it’s not strip poker we should be fine,’ I whisper.
It takes a few rounds, but soon the ladies pick up the rules. I leave them to it, dipping my head back in every so often between floor-washing and bathroom-cleaning. Shayne sits in the corner with a laptop across his knees. He’s wearing thick-rimmed burgundy glasses that I’ve never seen on him before and his face is a picture of concentration. I can only assume he has the luxury of working from home and I find myself hoping it means he’s staying in Ireland a little longer. At first I think it pleases me because he’ll be here for Malcolm, but I quickly realise it makes me happy for me too. I’d miss him if he left. Butterflies flutter in my tummy at the thought of missing him and I’m glad when my phone dings and distracts me from exploring the feeling more. I glance around, making sure Elaine is nowhere in sight, before I slip my phone out of my pocket and find a message from Cora.
Hey. Well I survived Christmas and a million hints from my mam about making her a grandmother. Ugh!! Anyway, I’m home and I’d LOVE to catch up. You free later? I could pop around to your new place You still need to send me your address BTW xx
I start to type a reply but anything I say feels false and lie-like. I slip my phone back into my pocket and promise myself I’ll call Cora later. I can’t wait to hear all about her family Christmas.
The ward gets busy, just like yesterday, as curiosity brings other patients to join in the game. Someone takes out their wallet and soon there are notes and coins on the side of MrsBrennan’s bed like a scene from Casino Royale , except instead of tuxedos and evening dresses everyone is in pyjamas and slippers. After a couple of hours, exhaustion creeps in and patients retreat to their respective wards and rooms once again.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I say, as Shayne helps Malcolm tidy up.
MrsMorgan is back in bed, and MrsBrennan is asleep, snoring softly, with a rosy hue in her cheeks. She’s been ghostly pale since before Christmas. I know a game of poker isn’t a miracle cure for her failing health, but it makes me happy to see a hint of colour on her face, even if it means nothing more than that she had a fun couple of hours with new friends.
‘How about dinner tonight?’ Shayne says.
His question catches me off guard.
‘Or do you have plans again?’
‘I… I…’
I’m not sure what to say. Anything I say this time will most definitely be an obvious excuse, and I’d hate for him to think I don’t want to join him for dinner when the truth is that, if things were different, I’d love nothing more.
‘Ellie likes McDonald’s, right? Or is she more of a Burger King kid?’
‘Ew, Burger King.’ I make a face.
‘Okay, that’s settled then. McDonald’s it is.’
‘You don’t have to do this,’ I say. ‘I’m sure McDonald’s isn’t exactly your cup of tea.’
‘It can’t be worse than that place Shayne made us go last night,’ Malcolm joins in, shoving the last of the cards back into a small cardboard box with a picture of an eagle on the front.
‘Fine dining,’ Shayne says.
‘Oh.’
‘If I wanted to eat flowers on my dinner, I’d take a bite out of the garden,’ Malcolm goes on, shaking his head.
‘So, you see, McDonald’s is perfect,’ Shayne says.
‘Oh.’
I add up the cost of a Big Mac and a Happy Meal in my head and hope that splashing out will make me seem a bit more normal. I’ll have to make sure it’s just this once though, I can’t set my flat deposit back again.
‘Okay. Sounds good,’ I say.
Shayne’s eyes twinkle and I notice, how incredibly blue they are today. Like the sky after rainclouds clear away.
‘I’ll pick you up. Will we say seven?’
My breath catches as I think of him pulling up outside my old apartment and waiting for Ellie and me to walk through the doors.
‘I…I have to collect Ellie from crèche. And traffic can be bad. I’ll meet you there. How about McDonald’s on Grafton Street at seven instead?’
‘Okay, cool,’ he says, obviously thinking nothing of my change of plan. ‘Perfect.’
Butterflies return to my stomach and spend the rest of the day there. It’s the first time in weeks that I have actually looked forward to something, and it’s such a refreshing feeling that if I think about it too hard I get teary. It’s only a burger with some friends, but it’s a big deal. Huge.