Chapter 7 #3
‘I hope you brought earplugs,’ Mia whispered to Clem and Aggie. ‘They go off like a wave, and once one starts, they all pitch in.’
Clem’s stomach tightened. This is nothing like my hospital ward experience. Focus on breathing.
The curtain runners made a rattling sound as the nurse visited the mum on the far side of the room. Sure enough, as Mia had predicted, the newborn set off the baby beside it with a gusty cry.
‘Anyone would think they’re being tortured.’ Agatha chuckled, rezipping Fred’s jumpsuit and swaddling him again.
Clem took a quick, sharp breath. I can do hard things.
This shouldn’t be triggering. It’s not even my baby, and there are no pregnancy hormones swirling through my body right now.
A hand covered hers, and when she looked up she saw a concerned expression on her friend’s face.
The friend who had given birth just three days ago.
Clem felt ashamed of herself.
Pull yourself together, they don’t need to see you like this.
Agatha, who was disposing of the dirty nappy, laughed as little Fred began crying too. She rocked the baby, shushed him and studied Clem.
‘Are you okay, Clem? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Clem swallowed down the sour taste that rose in her throat. ‘Mmmm hmm,’ she managed, rummaging in her handbag for a bottle of water.
It’s in the car, dammit.
She settled for chewing gum instead, but when the crying ramped up in the bed next to Mia’s, no amount of Wrigley’s Extra Fresh could take the edge off the triggering memories that flooded in.
Spencer shifted in the stiff plastic chair outside the nurses’ station, and glanced at the exit, willing his best friend to get his arse into gear and swagger through the door pronto.
‘Five minutes away, huh?’ he mumbled, looking at the reply Jeff had sent when he’d pulled into the hospital car park. He would have sat in his ute in the dank underground car park for another fifteen minutes if he’d known his friend was going to be this late.
No beeping machines, no small talk required, no hospital stink.
Admittedly, the smell of the tiger lilies in the bouquet he’d brought for Mia were giving the industrial detergent a run for its money, but still, he struggled. After Belle got sick, he’d had his fill of hospital waiting rooms.
‘Come on, mate.’ He recrossed his legs and jiggled his foot, looking at his watch again. He’d made it this far, he wasn’t going to bail now. Maybe I could briefly gatecrash Clem’s visit, offload the flowers, meet the little man and apologise to Jeff later.
He sighed. He wasn’t going to do that to his best friend, to the bloke who’d been a pallbearer at Belle’s funeral, the guy who dragged him up by the scruff of the neck when he needed a good talking to.
Setting the flowers on the chair beside him, Spencer made a beeline for the vending machine.
A stiff drink was out of the question, but a Cherry Ripe or a bag of Maltesers would hit the spot.
Unable to decide which, he opted for both, plus a packet of Burger Rings.
As he dropped the coins into the machine, a cacophony of noise came through the double doors as they opened.
Spencer grabbed the snacks and looked up, expecting a cavalry of prams, all carrying wailing newborns.
But it was Clem Crossley hurrying out, barely waiting for her two girls, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Hey,’ he said, but Clem ducked her head and quickened her pace.
Her stricken expression took him right back to the waiting room at the specialist clinic, where tissues were available in vast quantities.
He didn’t bother asking if she was okay—it was clear she wasn’t—but he couldn’t leave it.
He knew what driving through tears and a gritted jaw looked like, and he suspected it wouldn’t be any easier with two little girls in the back seat.
‘Can you mind my flowers, girls?’ he asked, tossing the choc balls and chips onto the seat. ‘I’m going to chat with your mum. Snacks are all yours.’
It’s not your place. This is none of your business.
He mightn’t know exactly what was going on with Clem right now, but he knew pain when he saw it, and if there was something he could do to help, he needed to step up.
‘Wait,’ he called to Clem, as she jabbed the elevator buttons. ‘The girls are occupied for a bit. Come over here for a moment, sit down and catch your breath.’
Spencer steered her in the opposite direction of the maternity doors, away from the nurses’ station.
He’d seen the sitting room off the stairwell while he’d been waiting for Jeff. He guided Clem over to it and pulled out a chair for her.
‘Here, take a seat.’ Spencer thought he’d hardened himself against the sound of a woman crying—the amount of sniffling and sobbing during the TV show had thickened his skin—but when Clem just stood there, trying and failing to suppress her tears, he drew her into his arms.
‘Come here,’ he said, feeling her soften for the briefest moment, her damp face resting on the hollow between his shoulder and collarbone, arms clamped by her sides. ‘It’s alright, you’re good.’
‘I’m n-n-not normally such a sook,’ she said, sniffing and stepping away with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t do well with crying babies. And I don’t know if you heard it, but they were all at it in there.’
He laughed, handing her a paper serviette from his pocket. ‘It’s clean, I think. And those babies were making such a racket, I think the swamp monsters at the bottom of the Blue Lake heard them. I was tempted to rip that napkin up and use it as earplugs.’
That got a weak laugh, and he remembered the other chocolate he’d bought. He tore the wrapper open and handed it to Clem. ‘Sugar’s good. I hope you don’t mind, but I slipped some to your girls too. Figured you needed a moment.’
She took a bite of the Cherry Ripe, giving him a grateful smile as she chewed. ‘Thanks. I mean it though, this isn’t my finest moment, I don’t normally lose it like that.’ She winced. ‘And I’ve blubbed all over your shirt.’
He glanced down, surprised at the damp patch he hadn’t even noticed. ‘Nothing a wash can’t fix,’ he said. ‘Not that it matters.’
She passed him the last half of the chocolate bar, then shrugged when he shook his head. ‘You’re probably used to crying women if you’re carrying an emergency supply of chocolates and tissues with you. They teach you that on the TV show?’
‘University,’ he replied. ‘But always with a big “at your own peril” disclaimer. Soothing sobbing high schoolers can go wrong very quickly. Plus, with the type of make-up teenage girls wear these days, and the price of a decent business shirt, it’s safer and way cheaper to offer distractions rather than a hug. ’
Sunshine glinted in through a window, making Clem’s dark hair shimmer with threads of gold. He noticed she had three earrings in each ear, with silver studs in ascending size. She wasn’t like Belle, not really. And as she met his gaze, he felt something unfurl inside him.