50. Marlowe
I ’ve been away from the hospital for three hours, which is a long time to be away from Tabs but a very short amount of time for Athena to have pulled off an epic room switch.
When we get back to the Heart Heroes ward, a smiling nurse directs us down the corridor to a private room.
The late afternoon sun is shining through the window and onto a very smiley Tabby.
Athena’s sitting beside her, looking entirely at ease, while between them are scattered most of a deck of playing cards.
I stop just inside the doorway and gape.
These four walls represent a space so quiet, so peaceful, that they may as well house a Tibetan monastery.
Sure, Tabby’s still hooked up to her machinery, so we still have to suffer through some beeping, but we’re alone.
We’re alone!
‘Hello, ladies,’ I say, looking around in amazement.
‘You’ve been busy. Look at this!’
‘Hi Mummy!’ Tabby practically shouts.
I haven’t seen her this animated since her operation.
‘We have a new room!’
‘Your boss has been busy.’ Athena brandishes her mobile.
‘He put me on a three-way chat with the hotel concierge and he was bossy . Only the best for his assistant.’ She winks at me, and I spin around to Brendan for clarification.
‘When could you have possibly done that?’
‘When you were asleep,’ he says, looking sheepish.
‘I thought you slept too!’
‘Not with that snoring.’ Tabby giggles, the little traitor, and he shoots her a grin over my shoulder.
‘Anyway, I had a clear vision, and I wanted to make sure Athena was executing it fully. Which she has, obviously,’ he adds hastily.
‘We’re a good team,’ Athena says blithely.
‘His Amex and my bullying tactics work together like a charm.’
‘Look at your bed, Mummy!’ Tabby cries, pointing over towards the window.
‘Oh my God.’ I set down my bag and go to check out the full-sized divan on the far side of Tabby’s bed.
Now this really must be a mirage.
It’s beautifully made up with white linen and piled high with fluffy pillows whose cases I could swear bear the same monograms as the ones in Brendan’s hotel suite.
The top of the duvet is turned back with all the precision of a hotel turn-down service.
I swing around. ‘Is that…?’
‘A lady came and maked it for you, Mummy,’ Tabby pipes up.
‘Brendan strong-armed the concierge into selling us an entire set of linen and then sending it over in a cab with one of the maids who set the whole thing up,’ Athena clarifies.
‘Right down to the memory foam mattress topper. Oh, and get this. He made the concierge send through a PDF of the pillow menu . He went for Norwegian goose down, if you must know. It seems our Brendan is the real life equivalent of the princess from The Princess and The Pea.’
Tabs covers her mouth, peals of delighted giggles pouring forth in the most magical way.
I drag my eyes away from my princess bed for long enough to see something akin to awe pass over Brendan’s face at the sound of it.
He recovers quickly.
‘That’s because your mum needs her sleep, doesn’t she sweet pea?
Though I should have bought her some snoring strips for her nose too, shouldn’t I?’
Okay, the snoring jokes are getting a little tedious now.
I don’t snore.
I turn back to the bed and reverently stroke the heavenly sateen cotton of the duvet cover before pressing down to reveal that yes, there’s definitely some memory foam under there.
I can say I’ve never, in my entire life, been so delirious at the sight of a bed.
Well, not since Tabs’s newborn days, anyway.
‘This is incredible,’ I say to Brendan.
‘Thank you, thank you. Honestly, I’ll sleep like a dream tonight.
I feel like Sara Crewe after Ram Dass gives her garret a glow-up.’
Athena and Tabby both give ahhs of appreciation at my analogy.
Brendan frowns in confusion.
‘In A Little Princess ,’ Tabs tells him, ‘Sara is so poor and has no mummy or daddy. She sleeps in an attic with her pet rat. But one night the nice servant Ram Dass breaks into her room and leaves loads of hot food and fluffy pillows for her, and when she wakes up she’s all warm and cosy.’
Brendan’s frown intensifies.
‘Sounds very, very creepy to me,’ he says.
‘And do we think your mum’s being a bit overly dramatic, perchance?’
Tabby giggles again in delight.
Oh, dear God. He’s winding me up to score points with her, and she’s already falling prey to his charms. Not that she can help it—she’s only human, and she hasn’t seen his arsehole side yet.
That said, I am very, very touched.
I know Brendan admitted back in the hotel that he’d be supporting me in the only way he knew how, by throwing his money around, but this is another level of thoughtfulness.
‘You try sleeping in a plastic armchair for two nights and then see how dramatic you’re feeling,’ I retort, but then I smile at him.
‘That’s the best present I’ve ever, ever received.
Thank you. And thanks for being his Girl Friday, Athena.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he says, then turns to Athena.
He seems embarrassed by my gratitude.
‘Food all sorted?’
She stands and smooths down her lightweight sweater.
‘Yep. A local chef will deliver meals for both of you three times a day, starting in about—ooh, an hour. Tabby helped me choose the menu. It’s weirdly heavy on both watermelon and sweet potato fries, but there are ginger shots in there for you.’
Okay. This is getting ridiculous now.
We’re in a hospital, not the Four Seasons.
‘You’ve been very kind, but we can slum it for a few days.’
Brendan closes the gap between us in a few easy strides and looms over me, putting his hands on my upper arms. I stare up at him.
‘It’s not up for debate.
She’s ill and you’re exhausted.
You know full well you need good-quality rest and nutrition if you want to survive this.
Don’t argue.’
‘Thank you,’ I mutter again.
‘I’m going to head back to the hotel and shower,’ Athena announces.
‘It’s no fun being thrashed at cards by a clever little monkey.
You coming, Brendan?’
He sticks his hands in his pockets.
‘I think I’ll hang around for a bit, if that’s okay with Marlowe and Tabby.
Nice to have a change of scene from the hotel.’
‘Of course,’ I murmur, but I can’t quite work out what his game is.
I suppose, if he’s sticking around all week, then he doesn’t intend to hide out in his hotel the entire time, but I can’t imagine it’ll be fun for him to hang out in a hospital room for hours on end.
Athena takes her leave after a big hug from me and Tabs and saunters off.
Brendan sits himself down next to Tabby’s bed, crossing one ankle over its opposite knee.
‘A lot of machines,’ he comments.
‘Do you know what they all do?’
She looks puzzled, like she’s not quite sure what he wants from her.
‘Some of them?’
‘How about this one?’ He points to the oximeter on her left index finger.
‘What’s that one for?’
‘That’s an oximeter,’ she tells him shyly.
‘It measures my sats.’
‘SATs? Aren’t they the tests you take in school?’
She giggles. ‘They’re different SATs, silly!
These ones are my oxygen sat-ur-a-tion levels.’
‘And what are those when they’re at home?’
‘They are how much oxygen is in my blood.’
‘Ahh, I see. Wow, that’s clever.’
He’s acting as though this is a fascinating revelation.
‘And is ninety-nine per cent good?’ he asks with a straight face.
‘It’s brilliant! That’s why Nurse Shondra gave me a star.’
She points to her chest. She’s still in a surgical robe for easy access to her heart electrodes.
‘So you’re top of the class, just like your mother.’
He glances up at me, and something soft in his blue eyes makes me feel a bit fluttery inside.
Damn him and his sexy eye contact and his dangerous knowledge of my praise kink.
Silently, I pull another chair up so I can sit on the other side of Tabby’s bed.
‘And how are you feeling? You’ve had a pretty busy few days.’
She sighs. ‘I’m a bit bored and a bit tired.’
‘Yeah, sleeping through your mum’s snoring is probably pretty difficult,’ he muses.
‘At least you’ve got rid of all the other kids now.
You should sleep better tonight.
Does it hurt where they operated on you?’
He’s talking to her easily, I realise.
He’s shooting the breeze like he chats with kids every day.
I find that some childless adults freeze around children, that they have no earthly idea what to say or how to act.
‘My heart is a bit sore,’ she admits, her lower lip sticking out.
‘But they give me medicine to help.’
‘I think you’re really brave,’ Brendan says, gathering up the scattered playing cards.
‘I could never, ever be so brave as you. I broke my wrist playing rugby when I was a grown man and I screamed so loudly for my mum that they had to give me morphine just to shut me up. It was really embarrassing.’
I shake my head.
This man. I’m ninety-nine per cent sure he’s making this shit up for Tabs’ sake, but it’s working, and it’s seriously sweet.
I sit and watch as they interact: my tiny blonde daughter and this big, dark-haired brute of a man chatting away easily.
Brendan is a giant kid, after all, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
He splits the deck of cards and laying them on the overbed table before performing a flawless dovetail shuffle that has Tabby’s jaw dropping.
‘Wow.’
‘Someone clearly spends too much time in Vegas,’ I mutter.
Elaine has mentioned his penchant for boys’ weekends in Sin City.
‘Maybe I can teach you how to play poker while you’re stuck in here,’ he says, ignoring my jibe.
‘Then you could drop out of school and make millions at illegal poker games.’
‘Helpful, thanks,’ I tell him.
‘But I like school,’ she says, and my heart breaks a little.
From the way his face softens, so does his.
‘Fair enough. Do you know what else this table would be amazing for?’ He slaps it.
‘LEGO. Do you like LEGO?’
‘I love it! I have some LEGO Friends at home that I got for my birfday.’
‘Which ones do you have? I have a niece, Elsie, who’s your age.
She loves them.’
This is news to me, but it helps explain his ease with Tabs.
Elsie must be the kid of Gabe and Brendan’s sister, Mairead.
‘Which ones does she have?’
He grimaces.
‘Not sure. Sorry. A diner, maybe? And, hang on—a villa, I think? She made me buy her that one for her last birthday.’
Tabby’s face lights up.
She’s wanted a LEGO Friends villa for ages.
‘Does it have a yellow slide?’
‘I think so? Do you have that one?’
Her face falls.
‘No. It’s really ‘spensive.’
Brendan’s gaze flickers to me and back again.
‘Well, do you know that LEGO is way cheaper in the US than in the UK? Maybe I’ll see if I can pick one up and we could build it tomorrow.
It would be a fun bed project.
What do you think, hmm?’
I suspect the cheapness of LEGO in the US is a downright lie, but I know what he’s doing.
He’s warming me up to him splurging and assuaging any potential unease Tabby might feel about accepting such a gift.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest, but Tabby’s face is positively alight.
‘Can we, Mummy? Would that be okay?’
I force a smile.
‘Of course, darling, if Brendan’s sure.’
‘I’m definitely sure,’ he tells her.
‘I’ll get the hotel concierge to sort one.
It’ll be epic.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispers.
She’s looking at him as if he’s her fairy godfather.
Then she turns to me and tugs on my sleeve.
‘Mummy. I need the loo.’
We get a nurse in to disconnect Tabs from her endless wires so she can make the short trip to the ensuite bathroom.
‘Let’s play a game,’ Brendan says.
‘We’ll both guess how low your sats will go while you walk to the bathroom, and the person who gets closest to the right number wins.’
I smile to myself.
Clearly this guy knows exactly how an oximeter works.
‘Okay,’ she says, beaming as I lift her gently off the bed.
‘Eighty-five,’ Brendan says, and she scoffs.
‘Ninety-six.’
‘Punchy. No way can you keep them up that high. But you need to be honest and tell me what the number is when you get to the bathroom. No cheating, okay?’
‘I don’t cheat,’ she says, scowling at him.
He laughs. ‘We’ll see.’
‘You feeling okay to walk, angel?’
‘Yep. I need to walk so I can play the game.’ She slides her hand in mine.
She’s always had such tiny hands with delicate fingers.
She’d make a great pianist if she ever had a piano to practise on.
‘Nice and slow, Tabby,’ the nurse tells her as we set off at a gentle pace.
Tabs keeps her hand up in front of her so she can watch the oximeter.
We take a few slow steps.
‘Ninety-eight,’ she says.
Four more steps take us into what is a big, spotless bathroom with a proper shower.
I lower her onto the loo, and she sighs.
‘Ninety-seven,’ she calls out.
‘You’re cheating!’ Brendan shouts back, and we both laugh.
I shake my head at her.
‘He’s very silly, isn’t he?’
She beams, and my heart constricts.
‘He’s fun.’
‘Yes he is.’ One thing no one could accuse Brendan Sullivan of is lacking in the entertainment area.
I’m grateful that he’s here and trying to gamify what could be a tedious week for us.
Usually, it falls to me as the sole parent to keep Tabby’s mood up, even when I’m feeling totally devoid of personality myself.
I don’t want to admit just how much of a reprieve his being here might mean for me.
‘Ninety-eight!’ Tabs calls out to Brendan as she sits on the loo and does her business.
‘Ninety-nine!’ I stare at the number in disbelief as it ticks back up to resting levels.
She may only have taken a few steps, but this light physical exertion has barely moved the needle on her sats.
‘Liar, liar, pants on fire!’ Brendan yells back, and I hear the nurse laughing softly.
But she’s not lying.
The valve is working.
It’s really, really working.