Chapter 17
T he drive to the hospital was unbearable. Pedestrians appeared as if from nowhere, stepping out in front of us to slow us down. Every traffic light turned red on our approach and took forever to go green.
Joyce had been in too much of a state to speak clearly and my mind struggled to work out what had happened and how. All I knew for sure was that my friend needed me, and she needed me now.
Gideon drove in silence, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, while I sat hands clenched, fingernails digging into my palms. Despite the urgency, Gideon appeared calm and collected.
I couldn’t tell if he was sulking at me for ruining his big moment, or good in a crisis.
Either way, he didn’t appear to recognise the severity of our journey and watching him methodically shift through the gears, I wanted to scream at him to put his foot down.
As we neared the hospital, I prayed for Richard to be okay, but a little voice in my head reminded me that such pleas weren’t always answered. Refusing to listen, I wasn’t giving up hope. Instead, I insisted this time things would be different. They had to be.
At last, we reached the hospital and as Gideon pulled up outside accident and emergency, my hand was already opening the car door.
‘I’ll call you,’ Gideon called out, as I slammed the door shut.
Racing to the entrance, I suddenly stopped.
My feet refused to move, and my hands shook.
Come on, Hattie. I took a deep breath and exhaled.
This isn’t about you. It’s about Joyce and Richard.
Knowing I had to push through my fears, I pulled myself together and ignoring my pounding heart, charged through the doors.
Erin was already at the desk as I fast approached.
‘Any news?’ I asked, determined not to crumble.
She shook her head. ‘Mrs Data Protection here won’t tell me anything.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist said. ‘But like I’ve explained my hands are tied. Unless you’re family, there’s nothing I can do.’
‘But we are family.’ While technically that was a lie, it didn’t feel like one. With Gran gone, aside of Gideon, Erin and Joyce were all I had. ‘Joyce is our sister.’
The receptionist narrowed her eyes.
Considering the generational age gap between each of us, even I could see how far-fetched that sounded, but with no more time to waste, that was my story, and it was up to her to prove otherwise.
‘Our older sister.’ Having previously borne the consequence of being fobbed off by a hospital receptionist, I wasn’t about to let that happen again and I stared at the woman, eyebrows raised, daring her to challenge me.
‘Which makes Richard our brother-in-law,’ Erin added, following my lead.
The receptionist flashed Erin a look. ‘But you just said…’
We both stood firm, maintaining our position for Joyce’s sake.
The receptionist shook her head and sighed. ‘You know what, forget it. I’m not paid enough to deal with this.’ She indicated the waiting area. ‘Take a seat and someone will come and speak to you.’ She picked up her phone. ‘I’ll let your sister know you’re here.’
The waiting area was packed with casualties and there being no seats left, Erin and I stood off to one side.
The place reeked of disinfectant and, thanks to the inebriated brawlers in attendance, alcohol.
I glanced around, squirming at the blood that seeped through the bandage on a teenage boy’s raised hand.
My heart went out to a little girl who, pink and sweating, struggled to breathe as she lay against her mother’s chest. There were people wearing makeshift slings while others propped up swollen ankles or sported facial cuts and bruises.
Some, suffering invisible injuries or simply awaiting news like Erin and me, scrolled through their phones. A drunk in the corner burst into song, treating everyone present to a rendition of The Pogues’s Fairytale of New York .
‘That’s all we need,’ Erin said. ‘Like none of us are suffering enough.’
My pulse quickened as I recalled my last visit inside accident and emergency.
Gran had tripped outside the shop and by the time Gary Russel the butcher phoned to tell me, Gran was being rushed to hospital by ambulance staff.
An X-ray showed she’d landed so hard and at such an angle, she’d broken her hip.
When I arrived, demanding they let me see her, Gran was already being prepped for surgery and my pleas went ignored.
My eyes traced the footsteps I’d taken as I’d paced the length and breadth of the area in which I now stood.
Alone and in pain, Gran must have been so frightened.
Overcome with guilt, I wished more than anything I’d got there sooner to reassure her.
To tell Gran how much I loved her. The only life I’d ever known was with Gran and praying like I’d never before prayed, I hadn’t known what I’d do if I lost her.
‘The two of us against the world,’ she would say.
Over and again, I beseeched God, desperate for someone to come and tell me she was okay.
Goodness knows how many hours and a cardiac arrest later, Gran died on the operating table.
I’d previously told Erin about Gran’s fate and as if knowing what I was thinking, Erin reached out with a comforting hand. ‘Richard will be okay,’ she said, rubbing my arm. ‘And Joyce is a strong woman. Whatever’s going on, she’ll get through it.’
I nodded, desperate to believe her.
The doors to the treatment rooms swung open and straightening ourselves up, Erin and I looked over to see a nurse head for the reception desk. Mrs Data Protection pointed towards us and the nurse signalled us over.
‘If you come with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you through to your sister and brother-in-law.’
Erin and I shared a look, and relieved that Joyce had had the wherewithal to play along with my lie, I told myself that had to be a good sign.
‘How is Richard?’ Erin asked, as we followed.
‘He’s suffering from epigastric pain and has an elevated level of pancreatic enzymes which we’re treating intravenously. As for his palpitations, his electrocardiogram showed atrial fibrillation, so we’ll be monitoring him overnight.’
Listening to the nurse, I didn’t understand a word of what she said.
All I knew was that Richard’s condition sounded serious.
Aware the last thing Joyce needed was me breaking down, I did my best to calm myself.
Forced to regulate my breathing, I told myself that not everyone goes into hospital and doesn’t come out.
‘We’ll assess him in the morning.’
We turned onto a corridor to see Joyce sat alone and adjacent to a closed door.
Her shoulders were hunched, and she fiddled with a tissue so shredded there was hardly any of it left.
Nothing like the formidable woman I’d grown to know and love, Joyce looked small and scared, and in that moment, I thought my heart would break.
Clocking our presence, relief appeared to sweep over Joyce, and she rose to her feet and rushed towards us. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘I can’t do this on my own. And with Nial not being around, I didn’t know who else to call.’
‘What are sisters for?’ Erin said.
The nurse entered Richard’s room, leaving the three of us to ourselves.
‘The doctor’s still in with him,’ Joyce said. ‘I’m hoping I can see him soon.’
I swallowed hard. ‘He’s in the right place.’ Despite my experience, I refused to think anything different.
Joyce’s red and tear-stained eyes began to fill. ‘I’ve never seen anyone in such pain. The way he clutched his stomach and all the moaning and groaning.’ Her breath caught. ‘I thought he was going to die.’
As Joyce crumpled, Erin and I guided her back to her seat and both of us holding on to her, waited for her crying to ease.
‘Do they know what caused it?’ Erin asked.
Joyce nodded. ‘He’s been poisoned.’
Recalling Joyce’s prior conversations, I looked to Erin panic-stricken. As we both held our breath, I could see from Erin’s expression she was thinking the same thing.
Joyce stared at us, horrified. ‘Not by me!’
Erin and I exhaled.
‘How can you even think that? He did it to himself.’ Joyce reached into her bag for another tissue.
‘The blooming idiot went out foraging. You know, being the food expert he is.’ She wiped her eyes.
‘Great for Christmas, he said, before setting out.’ She blew her nose.
‘Not only did he come back with a huge bag of chestnuts, he’d already roasted and eaten half of them by the time I got home from town.
Except they weren’t the sweet chestnuts like the ones you get in the shops.
’ Joyce sighed. ‘All I can say is, thank God he wasn’t out collecting mushrooms.’
‘So what had he picked?’ Erin asked, confused.
Joyce looked from Erin to me. ‘The ones you shouldn’t eat. Horse chestnuts.’