Chapter 15
AMBER
Amber stared at Murray, lying under a thin sheet on the hospital bed.
She didn’t even think of him as Ray anymore.
Ray was the attractive, smart, sexy man she’d been getting to know for the last two months.
This guy – Murray fricking Atkins – was an obnoxious, entitled, rude, bad tempered arse that she’d have run a mile from.
‘Ray’ was dead to her – and staring at Murray now, lying there with his eyes closed, she wondered if he was also deceased, or sleeping, or just feigning a coma to avoid having to talk to her.
If she was being honest, she was fine with at least two out of the three options, because since he’d been wheeled back from the X-ray department, he’d been even more irritable and irritating than before he went.
She was seriously questioning why she’d ever seen anything attractive in this man.
What was wrong with her? Was her judgement completely skewed after all those years of marriage?
Or maybe it had always been that way. She used to think she’d picked a good one with Ewan, but look how that had turned out.
Maybe it was time to face it – her decent-bloke radar was in need of some recalibration.
And she still had a very slight concern that her internal lie detector might have been unplugged at the wall too. She thought back to her question earlier.
‘Are you married?’ When she’d said it, his face had twisted into something resembling disgust.
‘How could you ask me that? Is that the kind of man you think I am?’
She tried to remember the lessons she’d learned in a Basic Psychology course she’d taken as an additional module in sixth year at high school, swayed by the fact that the boy she’d had a crush on back then was doing it too.
He’d ended up dating someone else and she’d dropped the course to join the gardening club instead.
Clearly her man-radar was off then too. But back to the point.
When someone answers a question with another question of their own, does that mean they’re appalled, deflecting or guilty?
She really wished she’d paid more attention to the study material than the cute guy back then.
‘No, I’m not married,’ he’d answered with such categoric firmness and obvious offence that she felt terrible for asking. He did back-pedal slightly though. ‘We’ve been separated for two years.’
Separated? Something didn’t seem right about that, and Amber had flipped back through their conversations, before replying, ‘You told me you were divorced.’
‘I am. That’s what I mean. We split up years ago. We’re divorced.’
Amber had wanted to believe him. And, actually, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he did have a suspected concussion and was probably still traumatised after his near-death altercation with SpongeBob.
Of course he couldn’t be married. That would be ridiculous.
Before their first date, she’d briefly googled him, but the information online was sketchy and there had been nothing new for a couple of years.
He’d told her that, as a doctor, he kept his personal life off social media to protect his privacy and that had made sense to her.
Although, now she was beginning to question everything.
Before she’d been able to delve any deeper, the porter had arrived to sweep him round to X-ray, leaving her alone.
When he’d been wheeled out, she’d leaned her head back against the white wall of the room and closed her eyes. What. A. Shitshow. If this was single life, you could keep it.
She’d felt a familiar mini-wave of fury tighten her chest. Damn Ewan for doing this to them.
Damn him for wrecking what she thought was a perfectly happy marriage, just for the sake of a quick shag.
And yes, for many months now she’d prided herself on her belief that she was over it, moved on, searched for the positives, found them and made the best of the situation – but now she just wanted to punch him in the willy and berate him for breaking their family again.
And she also wanted to cry. Today seemed to have opened the tap on a whole keg of emotions that she’d been allowing to quietly ferment in the background for months.
And yet… all she wanted to do right now was speak to the people who mattered.
She’d pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled Ewan’s number.
When he answered, it had taken every ounce of effort she had left to make her voice sound normal and not like she was stressed, upset, on the verge of a full-scale meltdown and more than a little pissed off with her ex-husband, the man she’d slept with this morning and herself.
‘Hey, just checking in. All good?’
‘Yup,’ he’d confirmed, and either he was having a medical episode or his mouth was full because he sounded altered.
She’d crossed her fingers for the food, because she’d had enough hospitals for the day.
‘Me and the kids are on the couch eating popcorn and watching Monsters, Inc. Don’t judge me. The old ones are the best.’
She hadn’t disagreed. ‘Can I say hi to the kids?’
‘Of course. Alfie, Sid – that’s your mum on the phone.’
They usually checked in with the kids at least once a day when they were with the other parent, so she’d known he wouldn’t think there was anything odd in that.
‘Mum, we’re having a popcorn party. Can you come?’
That came from Sid, and the cracking sound was a chisel taking a piece off her heart.
‘Oh honey, you know I’d love to, but this is Daddy’s special day when he gets you guys all to himself.’
‘S’pose,’ Sid had replied, and Amber could picture his face and the disappointed slump of his shoulders. The chisel cracked another piece right off.
She’d chatted to both boys for a couple of minutes before they’d given the phone back to Ewan.
‘I’ll send some popcorn back over with the boys so you don’t feel left out.’
She’d wanted to reply that no amount of popcorn was going to solve that. She felt so left out she could barely breathe. And once again that threw up a whole mix of emotions: love, sadness, regret and fury at him for causing this.
Still she’d managed to keep her voice calm and normal. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anyway, you having a good day? Are you doing something amazing? I mean, obviously nothing can top Monsters, Inc. and popcorn.’
Amber’s gaze had scanned the white walls of the room, the space where the bed had been before the porter had wheeled it out, the bag of Murray’s clothes that were still lying in the corner because she was afraid if she gave them back to him, he’d flee the scene before he’d been declared fit and healthy…
‘Nope, nothing can top Monsters, Inc. and popcorn. But yes, I’m having a lovely day, thanks.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, Sid’s offer still stands. We’ve got Cars lined up next and a space on the couch.’
A space on the couch. As she’d hung up, her only thought had been that she’d have given anything to be there instead of in the middle of this messed-up episode of Scrubs.
A while later, when the porter had brought Murray back in, his mood had escalated from irritated to blazing fury because, apparently, they’d kept him waiting for an unacceptable period of time and now he was being asked to wait even longer for the results.
Clearly he wasn’t used to living in the real world, where things didn’t just happen at the snap of his fingers.
That’s when he’d checked out of the conversation, closed his eyes, and ignored her.
Glad of the peace, Amber had let the silence stretch until now, when the worry over whether he was actually dead or slipping into a coma over-ruled the worry that she could cause a premature, potentially life threatening bolt for freedom.
If someone came through that curtain now with good results and agreed to discharge him, then she was going to be the one making an immediate bolt for freedom, so it was time for full disclosure.
‘Murray…’ If he thought it strange that she used his full name, he didn’t comment, although he did open his eyes, thereby ruling out death and a coma. It was only a mild relief.
‘I just want to let you know that the Lidl bag in the corner over there contains your clothes and everything else you left at my house.’
Instant anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’
She went with a more diplomatic answer than the truth that she hadn’t trusted him not to flee the scene. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I had.’
His look of absolute scorn made it clear how he felt about that reply, and it had two effects. It wiped out the last shred of compassion she had for him, and it nullified the guilt over her untidy shower’s part in the fiasco. Something snapped.
‘You know what, Murray…’ Emphasis on his name, because as she’d already decided, the time for cutesy, friendly nicknames was long gone.
‘I think we both know that this isn’t going to work out.
I’m extremely sorry that you slipped in my shower…
’ She’d watched enough of those corny legal adverts to know that she shouldn’t admit any culpability without a lawyer present.
‘…But I think it’s probably best if we say goodbye and I go now. ’
Just when he thought she couldn’t be more surprised by this man, he blurted, ‘But I need you to go and get my car and bring it here.’
Not, ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve acted like a dick.’
Or even, ‘Thanks for the quick shag this morning – I hope we can do it again.’
No. Just a barked order, as if she was at his beck and call. Or a valet.
Given that his head injury did qualify him as having an even crappier day than her, she decided to let that one go and choose a calm, classy, dignified exit.
‘Unfortunately, my car retrieval service isn’t operating today. However, I’ll leave you the number of a taxi and your car keys are in that bag. I’m sure you’ll work it out.’
Sod the wait for his results. She was done. There was nothing else to say, so she lifted her handbag off the back of the chair, stood up, and was about to duck out of the curtain and make a bid for freedom, when her path was blocked by someone coming in the opposite direction.
Okay, possibly a change of plan. Bernadette, the lovely nurse from earlier was giving off an urgent energy, as if she was here to deliver important news.
And she didn’t look happy about it. In fact, her expression definitely bordered on concern.
Amber’s heart sank. Had they found something on the X-ray?
Was it worse than they thought? Would surgery be required?
Was it terminal? That’s it. It must be terminal, because why else would she be looking so worried?
‘Murray, can I, erm, have a quick word with you alone?’ she said, and Amber felt sick.
This wasn’t just her usual catastrophising.
She was right this time. This was bad. He was going to have long-term injuries, and then he’d remember standing on SpongeBob, and he’d sue her, and she’d have to sell the house to pay the legal bills and settlement, and then her and the kids would have to live in a tent…
and the sex hadn’t even been that fricking good.
Murray was obviously getting similarly disturbing vibes from the nurse because his eyes widened and there was an unmistakable flinch of concern before he turned to Amber.
‘I think you were leaving anyway?’
She wasn’t sure if it was an escape route or a challenge, but either way she was taking it.
‘Thank you for everything,’ she told Bernadette – politeness cost nothing – and was about to walk past her when the curtain flew open and a lady with white-blonde hair, bright red lips, a snatched jaw and possibly the most impressive cheekbones Amber had ever seen, stepped inside what was now way too small a space to be accommodating so many people.
‘Murray. Hello, my darling,’ she chirped.
Amber’s catastrophe senses began to tingle again because it wasn’t said in the manner of a friendly greeting – more the way a cartoon snake would greet its next victim before it unhinged its jaw and swallowed it whole.
And judging by the way that Murray’s complexion had drained to the colour of the white/grey bedsheets, he was having the same feeling of impending doom.
The new arrival’s gaze then went to Bernadette, and the woman groaned – actually groaned – before rolling her eyes and drawling, ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me. You, of all people.’ Amber got a definite hunch that there was a dynamic going on here that she knew nothing about and she’d never wished more that she was on a couch watching Monsters, Inc.
The nurse didn’t reply, but her shoulders moved an inch or so back and her chin raised slightly in what Amber could only describe as a gesture of defiance.
That’s when the woman’s gaze shifted again and landed squarely on Amber. She felt her toes curl inside the Ugg boots she’d hastily pulled on when she was leaving the house.
The woman’s gaze went up and down, taking in Amber’s clothes, her hair, and then there was some kind of realisation, followed by a knowing smile.
‘Well, isn’t this cosy.’ The jaw was unhinged again, and Amber felt the fear as the stranger went on. ‘And who would you be?’
There was such scorn, such dismissiveness, such lofty entitlement, that she reminded Amber of exactly how Murray had been behaving all afternoon.
Who did these people think they were, talking to other human beings like this?
Sod that. She wasn’t bowing down to this.
She wasn’t going to crumble. This woman might be standing there looking like she’d just walked off the cover of a magazine, but Amber had two boys under six, so she was well equipped for confrontations and emotional power plays.
‘I’m Amber. And who would you be?’ She managed to mask her feeling of impending doom and wrap her words in a carefree, friendly tone. Do not show fear. Do not be intimidated.
The woman’s lip curled as she spoke.
‘Ah. I would be Lila Atkins. And I’m this idiot’s wife.’