Chapter 7
7
I hate hospitals – I know, most people hate hospitals, I’m not special. But, that said, if I were in Priya’s shoes right now, I am certain that I would be very happy to be here.
The poor girl came in screaming and crying and it must be bad, because she was taken somewhere almost right away. Well, we soon realised (around the time James started worrying about his white leather car seats) that Priya’s trainer was full of blood. She’s in the right place, which is good, but I feel so sorry for her. She was only there to help me and, if I hadn’t risen to Liz’s competitiveness, this probably wouldn’t have happened. I know it wasn’t me who dropped the weight, and I never would’ve let myself do something so dangerous in such an out-of-control way, but Liz was only pushing herself to try to get one over on me. If we hadn’t turned up, she would probably still be standing here, perving over James, not even breaking a sweat. The only thing she was ever intending to work out was how to get her claws into him, I would bet money on it.
The busy hospital waiting area is about as pleasant as you would imagine. This may just be the marketing exec in me talking, but there are so many things you can do – even small, simple things – to vastly improve user experience and here, well, it’s like they’ve done the opposite.
Simply, if you have a space where you are going to make people wait, do your best to make that space somewhere they don’t actually mind waiting. Sure, it works better with trains (where people are frustrated about delays and long journeys) than it does in hospital waiting rooms (where people are unwell or worried about loved ones) but at least try; don’t go out of your way to make it unpleasant, surely? From the retro avocado-green walls to the fluorescent lighting to the smell of bleach (which should be kind of reassuring but actually just makes you feel queasy), it’s almost as though someone made this space so awful that you might think twice about coming… which the cynical marketing exec in me also acknowledges is a great (but cruel) way to improve waiting times.
Sitting amidst the chaos are me, James and Liz (who is still here for some reason), and the atmosphere between us is making this even more unpleasant. We’re sitting in silence, none of us really knowing what to say, all of us (I optimistically suspect) feeling guilty over the part we’ve played in ending up here, even if some of us weren’t as complicit as others.
I jig my leg nervously, bouncing it up and down restlessly. I always do this when I’m worried, or stressed, or in pain – it’s as though I can’t not do it, although I’m not sure how much it actually helps anything.
James shifts uncomfortably beside me in his plastic chair, his usual confidence making way for something more serious. Even Liz is sitting sort of stiffly, her hands clenching each other in her lap, her sharp tongue eerily still for once.
The minutes drag on as we wait. I’ve called Priya’s husband, to let him know that she’s here, but it turns out he’s working in London today so it’s going to take him some time to get back. I’m not going anywhere, though, not until he arrives or they tell me that we can take Priya home. That’s why James is hanging around, to see if we need a lift, and Liz, well, perhaps she’s just biding her time until she can start flirting with James again. I’m amazed she’s managed to put it on pause for this long.
A nurse emerges from down one of the hospital corridors, her eyes scanning the room before they eventually land on us.
‘Robin?’ she asks. I raise my hand, so she knows it’s me. ‘Hello, Priya is asking if she can see you all.’
‘Is she okay?’ I ask quickly.
‘She’ll be fine, I’ll let her tell you herself,’ the nurse replies.
I sigh with relief. I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.
We follow the nurse through a maze of hallways until we reach Priya’s cubicle. The nurse pulls back the curtain, allowing us inside, before closing the curtain behind us.
Priya is lying in the bed and she doesn’t look as well as I had hoped, going off what the nurse said. It looks as though the blood that she has lost from her foot came straight from her face, because she looks drained, although at least her pain is no longer etched on her face.
‘You were right about the drugs,’ she tells me, her voice giving away a sense of how strong they must be. ‘Oh, boy.’
Despite her condition, she manages a weak smile and a waggle of her finger.
‘Oh, Priya, I’m so sorry,’ I tell her, taking her hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. ‘What have the doctors said?’
‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid,’ she says, in an oddly formal way – almost like how a doctor would say it – and I’m sure this is down to the drugs too.
My heart sinks.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘My bones are just… oh, boy,’ she says again. ‘An ortho… ortho… ortho-whatsit surgeon had a look and she says I need emergency surgery, asap, to sort it all out, so that’s what we’re doing next.’
She sounds so casual considering she’s about to have an operation. I reckon that, even if I were on strong painkillers, I would probably still be panicking about it right now. I mean, I’m panicking for her, and I’m not even the one going under the knife.
‘It doesn’t look like I’ll be going to Italy with you all,’ she says with a heavy sigh.
‘Priya, I’m so sorry,’ James tells her.
‘Forget about the trip,’ I reassure her. ‘You just focus on getting the help you need and we’ll go anywhere you want after. Somewhere nice, with no work to do.’
‘And, you never know, they might say you’re okay to go,’ Liz says optimistically – optimistically but stupidly.
James and I both turn to look at her.
‘What?’ she says softly.
I can just about see the guilt, lurking beneath her stony exterior. She would probably do well to show it a bit more.
‘Anyway, thanks for looking after me, and for getting me here,’ Priya tells us. ‘I’ll be having my op soon, so there’s no point sticking around.’
‘Message me later, when you can, okay?’ I say, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Let me know what’s going on and how you’re doing – and know that you can ring me anytime.’
‘Thanks,’ she says sincerely.
‘You sure you’re okay on your own?’ I check.
‘So long as they keep pumping me with drugs,’ she replies. ‘Honestly, go, you’ve got a trip to get ready for.’
We say our goodbyes and head outside.
‘I’ll let Rick know what was going on,’ James tells us.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I reply, sighing, because I’m already worried that this is somehow going to be made out to be my fault and, with Liz controlling the narrative, there’s an even higher chance it’s going to be me who looks bad.
I take my phone from my bag, instantly spotting the email from Rick, but then as my eyes scan down my screen, I notice another email – oh my gosh, it’s from Andrea! Not only did she get my message, but she has sent me a really long reply too.
I’m staying at my parents’ house tonight, so that my dad can give me a lift for my flight early in the morning, so I’ll head there and then reply to her. Oh, but not before I head back to the office, which is where I left my shopping. Definitely can’t forget that.
My gosh, it’s going to be like old times, sleeping under the same roof as my parents, chatting with my pen pal. It will be nice, going back to a simpler time (or pretending to, at least) because things have certainly got messier today.
I’m definitely happy to feel like a kid again, even if it is just for one night.