The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 34

THIRTY-FOUR

I sleep better than I have in weeks. I’m woken every couple of hours for observations – blood pressure, medications, that sort of thing – but I barely open my eyes and I fall straight back to sleep after. When morning finally comes round and the clink and clatter of teacups on trolleys wakes me, I ache for just a few more minutes’ sleep.

‘Breakfast,’ Tonya, the catering lady, chirps as she pushes her rattly trolley onto the ward. The smell of warm toast and melted butter makes my mouth water.

‘Bea!’ she says. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Dizzy spell.’ I blush.

‘Working too hard,’ she puffs out. ‘This place will have us all run ragged.’

I pull myself to sit up and stuff the pillow behind my back. ‘I’m going home today,’ I say.

Tonya slides the portable table waiting at the end of my bed over my knees and sets a tray down on top. Tea, toast, cornflakes and apple juice await. I cannot wait to tuck in.

‘Ah, I bet you’ll be glad to get home. There’s nothing like climbing into your own bed after a hospital stay, eh?’

Home. Own bed.

Tonya’s words are a like a punch to the gut. ‘Um,’ I just about manage to say.

She shifts her attention to the woman in the bed opposite.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ she says, waking her.

‘Not hungry,’ the woman mumbles, turning over and pulling the blanket over her head.

‘Okay, no worries. I’ll just leave it here for you.’

She doesn’t reply, and I think she’s gone straight back to sleep. Tonya places a tray, identical to the one she gave me, on the table at the end of her bed.

‘So much food gets wasted around here.’ She sighs. ‘I don’t know why they have us serve breakfast so early. No one is hungry.’

I. Am. Starving. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to wait until Tonya leaves before I tuck into the breakfast feast before me. And then every remaining ounce not to hop out of bed and savage everything on the tray across from me too.

The doctor and a team of medical students come round after breakfast. Their youthful faces and unsure dispositions remind me so much of Cora’s and my time in college. We were in different departments but we’d meet on our break and keep score of how many patients we’d diagnosed correctly and how many we’d got embarrassingly wrong.

‘Anaemia,’ one of the students says.

‘Iron looks fine to me,’ the doctor replies, looking at the file he has picked up from the end of my bed. I don’t remember anyone taking bloods. And I momentarily panic about how long I was out of it. How long I left Ellie unsupervised. My chest tightens, and I’m glad I’m not attached to any sort of monitor right now or the alarm might start going off.

‘Eating disorder,’ another student, who is painfully thin herself, suggests.

‘Hmm.’ The doctor gives this one greater consideration. ‘BMI low, but not dangerously.’

‘Drug use?’ comes another suggestion from a student in the back.

‘Excuse me? I snap. ‘I’m right here, you know. I can hear you.’

‘Again, bloods clear,’ the doctor says.

‘You tested me for drugs?’ I am furious. And embarrassed. And furious again. ‘I work here,’ I say, as if anyone who works in a hospital could never fall victim to drug use. ‘And I have a young child. I do NOT take drugs. Jesus.’

‘No. No one is saying you do,’ the doctor says, softly and finally looking at me. ‘This is just a teaching exercise.’

‘Okay, well, I think we’ve learned enough now. I would like to go home.’ I swallow hard and correct myself. ‘To leave. I would like to leave now. Thank you.’

The doctor turns towards his students and he must mouth something, because they all turn and leave together like a collective of doves, flocking towards the door.

‘Bea, your labs are all fine. You’re a perfectly healthy young woman,’ he says, turning towards me again. ‘But I am thinking your stress levels are unusually high. Is there anything worrying you? Pressure at work? Or at home perhaps?’

I scoff. He cocks his head.

‘I’m a single parent to a four-year-old. Some days are hard.’

‘Okay.’ He nods, getting it. ‘I’ll write you off sick for a week. I think resting up at home will do you the world of good.’

A tear escapes, but I catch it and flick it away before he notices.

‘Is someone coming to pick you up?’ he asks. ‘Best not to drive for a few days.’

I don’t bother to tell him I don’t have a car. I simply nod. ‘My friend will be here soon.’

‘Okay. Good. And remember what I said. Plenty of rest. Okay?’

‘Not sure how easy that will be with a four-year-old to entertain but I’ll do my best,’ I say.

He smiles, as if I’m making a joke. Maybe I am.

He leaves and I pull the curtain round my bed and get dressed. It feels good to escape the breezy hospital gown and I’m thinking about sneaking down to the storage room to fetch my toothbrush when Tonya returns to clear up.

‘Waste,’ she says, dumping the tray full of food from the woman’s bed into a black bin bag. ‘Pure bloody waste.’

My stomach knots watching good food get thrown away, and I wonder how much waste there is throughout the hospital every day. My eyes follow Tonya and her rattly trolley towards the ward doors, where I find Shayne standing with his hip leaning against the frame. I wonder how long he’s been there and I wait for Ellie to come bounding in. I can’t wait to hug her and hear all about her sleepover.

‘I didn’t know if it was okay to come in,’ he says, straightening up but remaining standing on the spot.

‘Where’s Ellie?’

‘She’s with my grandfather.’

My lips round into an O shape and Shayne quickly jumps in with, ‘I hope that’s okay. Ellie wanted to stay a little longer. She’s had breakfast and they’re watching a movie. Beauty and the Beast .’

‘Ellie loves that one,’ I say.

‘I thought maybe we could get that coffee we talked about?’ he says.

My face must tell him that I’m not sure because he races in again with, ‘Unless you’re not feeling up to it. I mean, you are just getting out of hospital, so if it’s better we can pick Ellie up and I can drop you straight home.’

‘No!’ I gasp, much too loudly.

The woman in the bed opposite stirs at last, rubs her eyes and sits up. ‘Did someone take my breakfast?’

‘Yeah. A while ago. Maybe if you call them, they’ll make you some toast,’ I suggest.

She nods, and presses the bell on her bed frame. When I draw my attention back to Shayne, I notice he has taken a step back and I can see confusion or worry on his face.

‘Is everything okay, Bea? If you’re worried about Ellie, we can go straight there.’

I’m not worried about Ellie. I can tell how fond of her Malcolm is and, as she’s never had a grandparent in her life, I know Ellie is enjoying every moment spent with him too.

‘Coffee would be great,’ I say. ‘They only serve tea here. I mean, who wants tea first thing in the morning.’

‘I love tea,’ the woman chimes in. ‘Do you think they’d bring some tea too?’

‘You could ask,’ I say.

‘Service is terrible here,’ she grumbles.

‘It’s not a hotel,’ I say, irked. ‘You missed breakfast, but I’m sure Tonya will oblige and get you something.’

‘Speaking of hotels,’ Shayne says, and I can see he’s switching from one leg to the other as if he feels awkward. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d need these.’ He reaches into his back pocket and produces a sealed plastic bag, with a foldable toothbrush and micro toothpaste. ‘I’m not trying to say you’ve bad breath or anything…’ He runs his hand through his hair. ‘But I’m guessing you don’t have any of your stuff with you?’

I recognise the travel-size plastic bag. They sell them downstairs in the tuck shop for silly expensive and I always wondered who would actually buy them. Now I know it’s nice Irish American guys.

‘Thank you. I feel disgusting.’

I take the bag and hurry towards the bathroom. I’m halfway down the corridor when I realise I’m sneaking and trying not to get caught. I laugh at myself, before I slow my pace and make my way to the patients’ bathroom as an actual patient. For the next few minutes at least.

My phone rings as I’m drying my hands.

‘Hello,’ I say.

‘Bea, Jesus, are you okay? I’m so sorry I missed your call.’ Cora’s voice is a mix of the familiar exhaustion we shared in college after a long shift, and panic. ‘I was on the night shift. Is everything okay?’

I think of Ellie watching movies in Malcolm’s sitting room. I think of the tiny toothpaste Shayne bought me. I push the thoughts of the pokey storage room and our closet life aside and, truthfully, I say, ‘I’m okay. Sorry I scared you.’

‘Tell me what you need? I can stop by your apartment and pick stuff up for you. Will one of your flatmates be home?’

My guts twist with the usual guilt that leading Cora to believe my life is wholly different than it is brings.

‘I’m okay,’ I say again, with more conviction this time. ‘I just fainted is all, and I was worried about Ellie. But everything is okay now. I really am sorry for calling and being so dramatic.’

Cora inhales sharply, in a way that hints that she doesn’t believe me.

‘Look, honestly, I’m fine. Just tired and need some sleep. I’m sure you do too after the night shift.’

‘I’m wide awake,’ she says, and I instinctively groan and cover it quickly with a cough. ‘I’d love to pop by for an hour or two,’ she goes on. ‘Check out your new place and cuddle Ellie for a while. I’ll bring soup and some bread from the bakery round the corner from my place. You still love sourdough, right?’

My mouth waters thinking about it. What a lovely way to spend a morning. Warm soup and crusty bread in a cosy flat. Too bad it’s only a dream.

‘Cora, I’m knackered. I’m sorry. Ellie’s in crèche and I’m going to crawl into bed for a while. I hope you understand.’

‘Course, course,’ she says, and I can imagine her animated body language as she tries to hide her disappointment.

‘But we’ll catch up soon,’ I say. I promise myself that we will. Maybe a walk in the park, or a stroll by the Liffey. Something that doesn’t cost a penny.

‘Sure,’ Cora says, and something about her tone feels off. As if there is something she’s not saying. I can’t get off the phone fast enough.

‘Bye,’ I say.

‘Bye.’

I return to the ward with fresh breath, and feel lighter just seeing Shayne sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, waiting.

‘Let’s get you out of here,’ he says, hopping up.

Tonya is setting a fresh tray down on the woman’s table.

‘You going home, Bea?’ she asks, with a smile that tells me she’s happy I’ve been discharged.

‘I’ll be in work tomorrow,’ I say.

‘Didn’t you get a doctor’s letter, surely you need some time off?’

‘Nah, I’m all good,’ I lie. ‘See you tomorrow.’