Chapter 31
Trev on duty:
Red and green tartan shirt
Navy blue chinos
Hand-tooled leather belt with western buckle
Chunky leather slip-on boots
Multi-coloured friendship bracelets
Stumbling to open the car door in a panic, Annie got out onto the pavement and bolted for the entrance of the building.
She pulled open the heavy glass door and rushed towards the reception.
There was no one there, so she didn’t even pause, just ran straight to the flight of stairs and went up them as fast as her weary legs could carry her.
Floor one, then floor two, then out into the corridor and down towards flat number 22.
She tried the door but it was locked. She hammered on it loudly and for long enough to establish that no one was coming to answer.
Oh no, oh no, oh God, now what?! She turned around and hammered on the next available door.
Finally, a very sleepy looking boy, hair on end, in a grubby T-shirt and pyjama bottoms opened up.
‘Has there been a fire?’ she asked urgently, following up before he could even reply. ‘Is everyone OK?’
‘Yeah,’ the boy replied in what felt to Annie like slow motion. ‘Some legend tried to dry his T-shirt in the air fryer.’
‘His T-shirt? In the air fryer?’ Her mind tried to make sense of the words. Could that have been Owen? ‘Is he OK?’ she demanded. ‘Where is he? Where’s everyone from the flat?’
‘Ermmmmmm…’
Annie wanted to shake him, she really did.
‘I think everyone got moved to another flat. It really did smell terrible. And I think the air fryer guy might be in hospital.’
‘What?! Where?! Who?’ Annie squawked. But all she got in reply was a shrug. ‘Maybe speak to Trev on reception. He’ll know.’
‘There’s no one there!’ she just about screamed, all this terror not to mention extreme sleeplessness catching up with her now.
‘Ermmmmmmm…’ The boy rumpled his hair, just the way Owen sometimes did and for a moment, Annie thought she was going to have to sit down, right here in the hallway, and sob.
‘There’s a bell on reception,’ the boy added.
‘Give it a ring and Trev’ll come out.’ Annie didn’t need to be told twice, she broke into a trot and headed back towards the stairs.
Trev was back on reception when she got there and didn’t even seem too fazed at this stressed-out, hyped-up, quite frankly mad woman blurting about fires and hospitals and Owen and where on earth was he and was he all right?
Trev had manned the reception desk at various halls of residence for a long time now and he had seen it all before.
He knew that the best policy always was to remain calm and calming.
‘OK, are we talking about the “incident” in flat 22 on the second floor?’
‘Yes! Is everyone OK? Did anyone get hurt?’
‘OK, and do you mind telling me who you are?’
‘I’m Annie Valentine, I’m Owen Leon’s Mum.
That’s the flat he shares with five others.
And I haven’t heard from him for three days.
’ If she didn’t find out within seconds what was going on, how exactly Owen was and where exactly he was, she was going to lose it, honestly she was going to have the hissiest of diva meltdowns.
The supermodels would have nothing on her.
‘OK, Mrs Valentine,’ Trev began, still checking the screen in front of him, ‘I can tell you that there were no serious injuries, apart from to the décor of the kitchen. Everyone got out fine. They put the fire out themselves but the fire brigade came round to make sure everything was safe. Now… according to the incident log… everyone has been temporarily rehoused in a flat in the east end of the city…’
‘Where?’ she asked immediately.
‘Wait… except for Owen Leon – that’s your son, isn’t it – who was taken to the QE Hospital in the south side.’
‘Owen’s in hospital?!’ she gasped, thinking really dramatically terrible thoughts now – imagining Owen’s face burned off, or Owen’s lungs ravaged by inhaling terrible plastic-fumed smoke.
‘It does look as if he’s spent the night there, but we’re not amazing at updating logs on this desk, I will admit.’
‘Any details?’ she asked, her voice sounding all wobbly and uncertain, exactly reflecting how wobbly and uncertain she felt herself. In fact, she was going to hold on to this nice solid reception counter to steady herself.
‘OK there, Mrs Valentine?’ Trev asked and suddenly he was by her side, proffering a plastic chair for her to sit on. ‘Let’s take a wee seat,’ he urged. ‘OK there?’
Yes, it was definitely better to be sitting. The spinning had stopped and she was feeling a lot less tingly. ‘Right, I’m going to pop into my office for a glass of water, then I’ll call the hospital for you and we’ll get an update. OK?’
As she gulped the glass of water down, Trev was making the call and noting down the details. ‘Right OK, ward 14, expecting to be discharged today. That’s great, thanks very much. His mum is here and I think she’ll want to go down and get him. That sound OK? Right you are then. Thanks.’
Trev turned to face her with the update.
‘He’s still at the hospital, they’re happy to let him go today and you are fine to go down there now and see him. How does that sound?’ Trev treated her to another big smile. Honestly, he was a saint, this man. An absolute saint. ‘I take it he’s no phoned you with all this news?’
She shook her head. He shook his too sympathetically. ‘They are absolute numbnuts at this age. That’s all I can say. Believe me, he’s not the only one.’
‘Thank you, Trev. Is it far from here?’
‘Are you in the car?’
When she nodded, he assured her. ‘Ten minutes’ drive. It’s after seven though, so be warned, the parking is an absolute killer.’
* * *
Siri guided her to the hospital where she managed to find a parking space.
Then she hauled her weary self to the hospital lobby, where another friendly person on reception pointed her in the direction of the right ward and she trotted along corridors that were already busy as it approached 8 a.m. Somewhere, in some compartment of her mind, she realised that this day was very quickly going to unravel completely out of control…
she had a major London event to get back to…
even now, she could hear all the urgent bleeps and dings her phone was making as people desperately needed her input on all kinds of unforeseen questions, hitches, last-minute glitches.
But right now, laser focus was carrying her onwards towards ward 14.
Here it was… she pushed open the door and found herself in that world of blue lino, busy people in scrubs, a confusion of doors and corridors.
But there was the nurses’ station, they would be able to help her.
‘Owen Leon?’ she blurted. ‘Where would I find him. I’m his mum…’ dangerous voice wobble on that word.
‘Oh hello, yes, of course… you just follow me,’ said a friendly nurse with strikingly pretty lipstick.
‘Is he OK? Apparently he’s going to be allowed out today…’
‘Yes, he’s doing well. I’m not sure he’ll be doing much cooking for a while though,’ the nurse joked. She knocked on the door loudly before pushing it open for Annie with the words, ‘Hey, Owen, your Mum’s here.’
Annie stepped in and there, at last, was Owen. He was sitting up in bed awake – very unusual to see him awake at 8 a.m. And his face was split into a big grin and it looked fine, perfect, just like it should.
‘Owen!’ she gasped, still astonished that all this had happened. Still not exactly sure what emotions she was feeling apart from massive, overwhelming relief. He looked fine, absolutely totally fine. Why was he here? What was wrong with him?
‘Hello, Mum…’ he waved both his hands at her slowly and as she registered that they were covered in big thick bandages, making them look like huge paws, he couldn’t resist joking, ‘Tinky Winky says hello.’