Chapter 33 #2
‘She’ll completely understand. I mean, apart from how come you didn’t already know, of course.
’ Sofia pulled me in for a fortifying hug.
‘I’ll be praying you can both work it out, whatever it is, and you know we’re here if you need us.
I’ll message you Gramps’ ward number, because I couldn’t remember that kind of information even if it weren’t the most wonderfully busy and stressful time of the year. ’
‘Thank you.’
I had Bob in his car seat and was halfway to the front door before I realised I had no way to get to Mansfield. It was Christmas Eve – what were the chances of booking a taxi on the fly?
‘This is Eric,’ Li said, appearing at my shoulder. ‘He’s happy to drive you to King’s Mill.’
‘What?’ I turned to find a rotund man with a white beard who, I supposed in the spirit of the season, wore a red padded jacket and a matching woolly hat with fur trim. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.’
‘You didn’t. My niece did, and I’d do anything for that lass.’
‘Rina,’ Li explained.
How could I not know about Gramps after three days, and yet everyone here knew that I didn’t know within seconds?
‘Besides, I hate parties. Only came to stop Rina and her mother whittling about me being alone on Christmas Eve. I live around the corner from the hospital. It’s the perfect excuse to skedaddle without offending Li and Angus.’
‘No offence taken.’ Li beamed. If he’d told Li her party sucked, her decorations were ugly and the food tasted like cardboard, I didn’t think she would have minded.
As weird as it was to be driven in Eric’s ancient Ford Escort, the entire dashboard vibrating in time to his Neil Diamond cassette tape, he was the perfect chauffeur.
He drove as swiftly as my galloping heart while remaining entirely silent until parking up outside the hospital entrance twenty minutes later.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, fumbling to unstrap Bob’s car seat. ‘Hope you have a lovely Christmas.’
‘Sooner it’s over with, the better,’ he grumbled, before giving a mischievous wink. ‘Get in there and snag your man.’
Pausing only to follow the signs, I hurried through the hospital, which thankfully was relatively small considering I was also lugging Bob in his seat. Still, it felt far too long until I arrived, breathless for so many reasons, at the entrance to the geriatric ward.
Here I forced myself to stop, steady myself, plaster on my attempt at a cheery yet concerned expression, and entered the room at a more inconspicuous speed.
Gramps was in one corner, the bed next to him empty, which seemed miraculous given the busy time of year. His eyes were closed, but as I approached, he slowly opened them to wrinkled slits.
Oh my.
He had a dressing on the side of his head. One cheek was a shocking mix of grey and purple bruises, and his whole demeanour was terribly old and horribly frail.
‘Wondered when you’d finally show up.’
I hastily sat down, undoing Bob’s straps and lifting him up so Gramps could see.
‘Bob missed you.’
Bob was currently fast asleep.
‘Bob could have come to see me yesterday. Or however long I’ve been here.’
‘Bob didn’t know,’ I said, feeling another flood of guilt. ‘I didn’t know. I missed Beckett’s calls on Saturday morning, and then he must have been too busy here to see my messages since. He… We…’
Gramps grunted. ‘That explains why he’s been so miserable, then. If you two have had a tiff.’
‘No, we haven’t… I don’t think.’
He narrowed one eye even further, if that was possible. ‘He tells you all my other business. Can’t think of another reason he’d not be pestering you about this.’
I sighed. ‘I don’t honestly know what happened.’
‘Best try asking him, then.’
‘I will.’ I gave a firm nod. ‘I will. Is he here?’
‘Out working. Might as well earn some money while I can’t get into any mischief.’
‘Right. Well, I didn’t come here to see him, anyway. I came to see you. What happened, Gramps?’ I dared take hold of his spindly hand. ‘Why were you out in the middle of the night? Didn’t you consider it could be dangerous?’
He glanced at me, before staring stubbornly at the sheet for a long moment.
‘I knew it was dangerous. That’s why I was out there.’
I tried not to tighten my grip.
‘You were trying to hurt yourself?’
Or worse? I thought, with a jolt of horror.
He gave a barely perceptible shrug.
‘It’s not right. A grandson being chained to his grandad all the time.
Worse than prison. Buttoning my trousers, cutting my dinosaur-claw toenails.
I didn’t mind so much him being shot of that woman.
She wasn’t right for him anyway. But he let go of everything else.
Himself included. Beckett used to laugh.
It was infectious. All my doubts and guilt about everything, losing his mother for starters, would disappear when I heard that laugh.
‘It was bad enough being saddled with me when the only diagnosis was being a chronically grumpy old fart. Now, though. Now…’ He broke off, voice cracking.
I waited until he could speak again.
‘He should be free to make his own choices, get on with his life.’
‘He is,’ I said, gently. ‘He chose to take care of you.’
Gramps shook his head in frustration. ‘I liked Tanya well enough. Even if she is an old battleaxe. But he works all day, comes home to me night after night. I’ve told him. It’s not right. And it’s not like I’m getting any better,’ he added, as an aside.
‘So why the night-time wanderings? Why make it harder for him?’
‘So hard he has to make the right choice. Either that or I freeze quietly to death in a doorway, spare the both of us any more misery.’
‘Is that really something you want?’ My voice was little more than a whisper. I knew what it felt like to fall asleep not particularly caring whether you woke up.
He sighed. ‘No. I want to be somewhere where the sorry folk stuck with changing my dressings get to go home at the end of the day to their own families. Where they get paid, so I don’t feel terrible every time they chop up my meat as if I’m a toddler.
Trained professionals, so I don’t shrivel in shame when I make a mess of myself.
Somewhere with other people I can moan at and gripe about, or thrash at Countdown .
I like having lunch with other people my own age.
Who talk sense. I might even want to try a hobby, or an old geezers’ trip to the seaside. ’
‘You want to go in a care home?’
‘I want my grandson’s face to light up when he sees me.
For us to hug when he says goodbye like when he’d head back to university.
For us to have something to talk about. News to share.
Our time together should be precious, not a prison sentence.
’ Gramps finally looked at me, his eyes swimming with tears.
‘I want him to miss me when I’m gone, not feel relieved. ’
‘Oh, Gramps.’
‘I might even find myself a lady friend.’
‘Why haven’t you told him?’
‘I tried!’ he said, voice switching to irritation. ‘He keeps going on about how he made a promise, he’s never putting me in a home. Won’t listen when I tell him that’s what I want.’
‘So you decided to make it so hard, Beckett would have to break his promise?’ I tugged on his hand. ‘Did you forget in your old age that he’s just as stubborn as his grandfather? He’d run himself into the ground before going back on a promise.’
‘It was all going to plan until you turned up,’ he snapped, but there was affection behind the grumble. ‘Offering to babysit me, make it easier.’
‘Well, if you’d told me all this earlier, I could have helped!’ I retorted, smiling. ‘Saved you a broken ankle and some nasty bruises.’
‘Humph.’
‘Have you told him now?’
Gramps shook his head. ‘They keep talking about what to do with me when they think I’m asleep, like I’m a child. I’m not so doolally I can’t make my own decisions.’
‘I’ll talk to him. Help him understand.’
He managed a feeble nod before slipping into sleep.
I stayed for another hour or so, hoping Beckett would turn up, while at the same time scared about what would happen if he did.
At one point, a nurse with tinsel in her hair bustled over and informed me that children under five were only allowed on the ward under special circumstances.
Then Bob gave her the biggest of baby smiles, and her sternness melted.
‘Ah well, so,’ she cooed in a strong Belfast accent. ‘It’s Christmas. It doesn’t get much more special than that, I suppose. We’ll let you visit Great-Grandaddy, as long as you keep it down. Don’t disturb the other patients. Deal?’
Then she shook Bob’s tiny fist, discreetly drew the curtain far enough to hide us both, and left us to it.
‘Hey.’
I’d almost dozed off myself, when the familiar voice jolted me upright in the chair.
I twisted around. Bob was back snoozing in his seat, and suddenly I had no idea what to do with my arms. ‘Hi.’
Beckett looked like a total wreck. His hair was an unruly mop. His bloodshot eyes were ringed with dark shadows, the rest of his face wan. He had a splodge of something – barbecue sauce? – on his bobbly jumper.
For some reason he was also wearing a headband with Santa on a bouncy spring.
‘Everyone’s a Santa?’ I asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
‘Something like that.’
‘You look how Santa Claus must feel on Christmas morning.’
He gave a rueful smile, dragging up another chair and sinking into it. ‘You look incredible.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I whispered.
He leant forwards, dropping his head into his hands. ‘I did call.’
‘You should have left a message. Texted. Called round and cried on my sofa! I know you said about needing time apart, but I’m a grown-up, Beckett. This is way more important than feeling awkward about a kiss. I could have got over it.’
‘You had more important things going on.’ He peered up at me, face squashed against his fingers.
‘What?’ I sat back, confused. ‘Like the carol concert? That was one evening. Oh, and my parents called in. I’d have infinitely preferred to have been here with you and Gramps than tolerating their Christmas anti-cheer.’
‘I meant your husband.’
Now I was really flummoxed.
‘Bob’s dad?’ Beckett mumbled.
There was a horrible silence.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘He was there, after the rehearsal.’
Oh! Oh.
‘That was Bob’s uncle. My husband’s brother.’
Beckett sat up.
‘Um. What?’ It was his turn to look bewildered.
‘My husband died in March. His brother, Kieran, was one of my best friends and fellow founder of our company, ShayKi.’
Beckett went so pale I feared he might slide off the chair into a dead faint.
Instead, he swore under his breath, dark eyes not leaving mine.
‘But that explains your weird rejection,’ I added, voice wobbly as the pain of Beckett’s message hit me all over again.
He swore more loudly this time.
I reached down and covered Bob’s ears. ‘Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else?’
Beckett shook his head, as if coming back to himself. ‘Yeah. Yes. Visiting time is nearly over anyway. We could go back to yours. I mean, if there’s no one else…’
‘There’s no one else,’ I said, firmly enough to convey that I was talking about a whole lot more than my cottage.
We both gave Gramps a soft kiss. Then, in a move bolder than I’d have believed possible coming from me, I took hold of Beckett’s hand as he carried the car seat to his taxi.