Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
‘So what happened is that the ingrown toenail grew out to the other side of my toe so they basically had to lob the whole thing off because of the pus and the infection,’ Mrs Michaels says as I sit by her bed.
I’m glad you’ve had help but seriously, I’m just here to give you a free book. Please take the book.
‘Well, I hope you feel better, madam.’
‘That’s very kind, love. Have a very Merry Christmas.’
It’s the last day of my book drive today and we’re in a local hospital.
A mate of Lucy’s has a husband who’s a doctor, and he’s allowed Nick and I to visit a few wards, give out books, and spread our very own version of festive book love amongst the patients.
A hospital is a sobering place at Christmas, and it makes my heart ache to see people who will likely be here over the season, suffering and trying to get better, but also to see the selfless many who work here, who will spend time away from friends and family to help others.
It makes my book drive seem a little ridiculous in comparison but it feels good to give all these people little pockets of joy where I can.
And Nick is here. Santa Nick. It’s our last stop today on this adventure and he’s come through.
He’s here to finish the drive with me and to assist. He sits next to a lady on a bed by the window, chatting to her and nodding, holding her hand.
‘Well, I really hope you get better. Try and have a lovely Christmas,’ he says, signing off before posing for a requested selfie.
I wait for him by the doorway, watching.
His words still echo somewhere in my heart from last week.
Who does that? Who just stands there and says words so profound, so moving to someone they hardly know?
I hear them all the time, at night before I sleep, they play to me like a song over and over, like a lullaby to make my heart calm, peaceful.
‘Hold up there, Kay,’ he says as he wanders over to me.
‘You’re tangled…’ He comes over and reaches up to my face.
I would flinch but his hand moves to my hair where it would seem I’ve got myself caught up in one of the ward’s foil decorations.
That would be the other way the staff are trying to make these people feel better, they’ve lined every space and corner with decorations so bright and reflective that you have to close your eyes not to be blinded by all the light. ‘You are free.’
I smile and look at him before averting my gaze. ‘Thank you. Was she OK?’
‘Gall bladder removal. Yours?’
‘Ingrown toenail,’ I say, pulling a face. ‘Though I can’t tell if they amputated the toe or just the nail.’
We look at each other and smile. I will miss this.
I’ll miss his company, but how do I communicate that?
Can we still be friends? Is that a possibility in the future?
But recently, I haven’t really known what to do with the other Nick.
The other night while we were wrapping gifts, I realised that I’m more confused than ever.
We might be going to Paris. But he likes me because I’m easy to be with.
None of it sang to me, not in the same way as when this Nick stood opposite me in the library telling me everything that was in his usually quiet soul.
‘Hi, Kay and Nick, yeah? I’m Joe.’ The man approaches us from a desk, dressed in scrubs, classically handsome as if he’s on the set of a medical drama.
Next to Nick, they make quite the duo. They could both be in some sort of handsome-man stage show and we could sell tickets for that.
I shake his hand as he adjusts his stethoscope.
‘That’s a very good Santa outfit, mate. I used to have an elf one,’ he says to Nick.
‘Did you used to dress up for the kids too?’ he asks.
‘Oh no, it was a different sort of gig,’ he says, blushing.
‘So the Callaghans say you’re giving out books, and Santa is doing a reading?
’ Joe enquires, and I nod. ‘Then you’re in the right place, come with me.
’ He escorts us down a corridor and I notice a pin of five gold rings attached to his lanyard.
‘Like the song,’ I say, pointing.
‘Kind of, a gift from the wife. So are you two colleagues or…?’
Nick and I look at each other. ‘Well, I’m from the library service and Nick is from…’
‘The North Pole,’ he says.
‘Gotcha. How long have you been together?’ he asks. Nick looks down at the floor at that point while I feel my cheeks start to burn.
‘Oh, shit. Sorry. It’s just…’ He hesitates, but I nod so he’ll fill me in about his little observation. ‘You finished each other’s sentence.’
Nick side-eyes me whilst I try and pretend I didn’t hear any of that at all. ‘We’re friends.’ He looks at both of us oddly and grins. ‘Why are you smiling?’ I ask.
‘I just know this story, I’ve lived this story.
Come on through.’ Cryptic Joe flashes his lanyard at the door and we walk through to the brightly painted children’s ward where the decorations are more cartoon reindeer and giant snowmen stuck to the walls.
In the background, I can hear a child crying, the gentle beep of machines.
I lied before, this shit is sobering. ‘You’re going to be in the lounge.
Follow me.’ I can see from the worried look on Nick’s face too that this is a lot to take on, they’re so little.
We walk past cubicles where kids lie in their beds, wires sticking out of them, hear big hacking coughs and see stressed parents curled up next to them.
‘Wait here and I’ll let the Ward Sister know you’re here. ’
Joe leaves us in a corner of the corridor where Nick stands close to me, his eyes searching around the place. ‘Can I give you some advice?’ I say.
‘Yeah?’
‘The ho-ho-ho-ing. Yours is still very uneven.’
‘Uneven?’ he asks. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’
‘I don’t know. It feels like the stakes are higher here,’ I explain. ‘Try it more from the diaphragm, from deep inside your gut.’ I punch him slightly when I say this and he looks at me, smiling.
‘You’re trying to distract us because this is tough, yeah?’ he says.
‘There was me thinking we were just giving out books. Some of them are teeny tiny, Nick,’ I say, concern etched in my face.
‘I guess they’re in the right place then if they’re poorly.’
‘But it’s three days before Christmas.’
He takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. ‘This is a friend grab by the way, to calm you.’ I squeeze his hand back, not looking him in the face but feeling his fingers wrapped around mine.
Joe returns, smiling as he clocks our hands linked, winking at me. I find you a little presumptuous, Joe. ‘It’s through here, guys. Thanks again for being here.’
We walk through to another room, full of sofas and classroom tables, televisions and video game consoles.
Again, the primary colours are strong but the Christmas decorations seem to have been crafted and drawn by the children.
In one section of the room, a group of about seven children sit there waiting.
They’re all in a mix of hospital gowns and pyjamas.
Some with IVs, one in a wheelchair wrapped in a dressing gown.
I try to smile, I have to smile because look at all of you.
‘Ho-ho-ho,’ a voice bellows through the room, and I laugh because I think that punch to the stomach may have actually worked.
I look up at Nick as he heads over to the children who all gaze at him with the same fascination and confusion as all the others.
We really need to get you some padding and a better beard.
Nick goes over to a seat laid out for him and one boy instantly takes a liking to him, hugging his knee, big hazel eyes looking up.
Nick grins at him and puts a hand on his head. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Alfie.’
I guess this isn’t the same as the adult ward, it’s not a time to ask these kids what they have and get them to relay all the details, because we’re here to distract from that, to give them a little piece of hope, escapism.
‘I’ve heard about you, Alfie,’ Nick says.
‘Really?’ the little boy says.
‘Bravest and kindest boy there is – that’s what the elves tell me,’ Nick says. I can’t cry. That would be bloody awful. Another little girl goes up with a toy dog and rests it on his other knee. ‘And who is this?’
‘Cookie,’ she says excitedly.
‘I love me a cookie, especially with milk. Can I eat him?’
‘Noooo.’ She giggles as he pretends to chomp down on the toy.
This is the Nick that’s revealed himself to me in recent weeks.
He’s a quiet, sometimes serious soul but when faced with all these kids, with older people, he can turn it on like a tap.
But it’s not for attention, it’s not charm or fake magic, it’s something inside him that pours out.
In that moment it’s not about him, it’s about making someone else feel better, special, seen.
It’s completely selfless and I want to tell him how I’ve noticed that, how it’s all I can see.
‘Well, this is my lovely friend, Kay, and we’re here today to give you some rather special gifts.
’ He bends down into his sack and pulls out a selection of wrapped books, except they’re not the ones I’ve wrapped.
These are all the same size and shape. One of them rips the paper off and I recognise the font and illustrations almost immediately.
‘Kay here is an author and she wrote this book about these bears and we thought we’d come and read to you and let you have some copies for Christmas.’
‘Are you really the author?’ an excited parent asks me. ‘We have one of these at home, that’s so exciting!’
I stand there, slightly embarrassed. This is not something I do, tell people about my books or what I do, and it wasn’t the purpose of the drive at all to become some exercise in self-promotion, but the children shift their focus to me and Nick kindly nods in my direction.
‘Can you sign my book?’ one of the children asks me. A pen appears next to me from Nick. He knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he?
I take it from him. ‘What’s your name, honey?’
‘Lucy.’
‘I know a Lucy and she’s one of my favourite people in the world.
’ I write an inscription and draw a smiley face next to my name.
I’ve never really subscribed to the side of my job that’s associated with fame or any sort of self-importance, but maybe at the same time I don’t talk about it enough.
I don’t market myself very well. And even if I’m here doing just that to seven kids and their parents then maybe it’s a start.
‘Could I get a selfie?’ asks another parent.
‘I guess so and then we’ll get Santa to read, yes?’
‘Only if you help, Miss Kay,’ Nick suggests.
‘This is our last stop on our book adventures so I think we should read it together. You do the polar bear voice much better than me.’ He pats a chair next to him and I go and join him reluctantly, nudging him slightly with my shoulder.
‘So this is A Beary Merry Christmas and it was written by…’ He waits and I sit there, shaking my head.
‘Yeah, it was written by me,’ I say grudgingly. The small collective clap their hands and I pretend to bow in my seat. ‘Right, so… Once upon a time, before there was time and before humans actually lived, all the bears could talk, did you know that?’
‘That’s a Sharpie you know? It won’t come off,’ Nick says as we stand outside this hospital entrance, the cold air still circulating, the weather reports having threatened snow for days now but the South still not seeing anything except frozen pavements and windscreens in the morning.
Nick looks at the back of my hand where one of the young people drew a massive star with a face.
‘Maybe I’ll leave it there, get someone to tattoo over it,’ I say, holding it up.
‘Cute.’
I don’t know if he means me or the tattoo, so I quickly put my hand down. ‘You didn’t have to do that, you know, with the books. It was very kind though.’
‘You don’t really talk about your books much, your writing…’ he says.
I shrug my shoulders. ‘I guess it’s because it makes me uncomfortable.’
‘Don’t be modest. It’s a brilliant thing. You should feel proud of that.’
I don’t know how to respond to that because I know what he’s doing. I can almost hear my nana screaming at me from the corner of the room.
‘How do I thank you, Nick, for all of it? I’ve had a lot of fun,’ I say.
‘Me too. Hey, maybe after Christmas, I can swing by the library, we can have a coffee. I don’t want to overstep but we should keep in touch.’
‘Because you know, it’s still a collab, right?’ I joke.
‘Exactly.’
Maybe a hug is all that’s needed in this moment.
I know those words, those promises don’t always come to fruition.
They’re said when you bid goodbye to someone to ease the finality of it, because this might be the last time we see each other.
I really hope it isn’t. It can’t be. I reach for him and put my arms around him.
He hugs me back and I reach up to kiss him on the cheek, to feel his skin next to my lips.
I take a breath and close my eyes, stepping back from him.
‘Actually, before we go. I did have a gift for you. It’s a bit silly but I guess it is the season.’ He watches me curiously as I pull an envelope out from my handbag. I watch him open it and his face slips into a smile.
‘A capybara feeding experience.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘For your continued education.’
He laughs, this genuine sound that I try really hard to keep, to hold on to. ‘Thank you, Kay Redman.’
‘You are very welcome, Nick North. Have a bloody lovely Christmas.’
‘You too.’