Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MAISIE
Iain Howell
I’ll pick you up at 10. I don’t want to be late so please be ready x
Maisie Moss
I’ll be there xxx
They’d woken up late.
Iain needed to take Ted out for a walk before they left, so Maisie rushed home to change her clothes and power walk her way to her nain’s house to hopefully smooth over some of the cracks their last conversation had caused.
She hated feeling so guilty over setting the boundary that she had, but it needed to be done. She needed Vera to understand that she wasn’t accessible at the spur of the moment one hundred percent of the time.
As usual, it was raining on her walk. She’d forgotten to tell Iain where she was heading, but she would be back to her flat in time for him to pick her up anyway.
The road up to Vera’s house was steep, but all of the hiking had evidently done some good for Maisie’s heart, since she wasn’t so out of breath as she powered up the pavement. She’d forgotten her key, which wasn’t a clever idea, so she was glad when she saw Vera’s pale-blue eldermobile parked outside the rickety old gate.
“Hello you,” she said with the edge of a scowl to Mister Roberts glaring from his usual spot on the windowsill. Only, today he was on the outside, jet black fur shining from how soggy he was, eyes unimpressed.
Strange, Maisie thought. Vera usually kept him indoors when it rained.
One hand gripping her hood in place, she rapped her knuckles on the front door. Wind barrelling off the shore blew the rain at an angle, so the overhanging porch didn’t work much as a shelter for her legs. The denim of her overalls already clung to her, and Maisie was close to giving up hope of being dry by the time they got to Iain’s family farm.
Vera didn’t come to the door, so she tried knocking again and waited, still receiving no answer after half a minute.
“Come on …” The one time she did as Vera would and didn’t call ahead …
Ronnie visited his brother’s care home on Sundays, and there was every chance that Vera could’ve gone with him. But if she had, then she absolutely wouldn’t have left Mister Roberts outside. And she definitely wouldn’t have left the television on in the living room. Images of whatever played flickered in the bay window’s glass. Maisie stepped out from her hiding place to peek in.
Rain splattered down from the gutter onto her head.
Everything looked normal in the living room. The TV played an episode of Antiques Roadshow. A plate of shortbread biscuits sat on the coffee table. Her grandmother was on the floor by?—
“Nain!” Maisie’s heart shot into her throat. She hammered her fist on the glass. “ Nain! Oh god …”
Sprawled face down on the carpet, Vera didn’t move – she didn’t even twitch.
“Shit—shit?—”
Tears flooding her eyes, Maisie scrambled to the door and shoved herself against it in blind panic. She flung herself again and again; adrenaline making her deaf to the forceful thuds. The lock didn’t give out under her weight, and on her last shove, fire burst through her shoulder.
“Ah!” She should scream for help but with this much rain, who would hear her?
Her chest hitched with every panicked breath, her vision blurred by tears.
“Okay, key … key …” There had to be one out here somewhere. Vera had enough sense to leave one by the doorstep for an emergency like this. She searched under the mat, pricking her fingers on the bristles, and in the potted bushes on either side of the door. Everywhere that could hide a key.
But there wasn’t one.
Stomach churning, Maisie banged on the window again until her skin was red, but the noise didn’t do anything to wake her grandma. She bracketed her eyes with her hands as she sobbed and squinted for any glimpse that Vera breathed.
“No—no—no.” Maisie unzipped her coat and fumbled to get her phone from the pocket of her overalls with her cold, frozen hands. Raindrops raced down her cheeks and mixed with her tears.
Mister Roberts gave a loud meow behind her.
“What?” she shouted at him. The damn cat was the last thing she cared about.
Mister Roberts plonked his arse down on the rim of a plant pot at the edge of the patch of lawn she hadn’t gone near, staring at her.
“Key …” crossed her parted lips in a whisper. Maisie rummaged under the feathery leaves of the potted shrub, her nails finding metal. “Yes!” Of course Vera would hide it in the furthest pot from the door. Relief swept through her so much she sobbed.
She wiped the caking of dirt on her coat and patted the cat in a hurry, sniffing through her tears. “Good boy.”
Mister Roberts meowed in return.
Dialling for an ambulance, Maisie fumbled to get the key in the lock, using her whole body to break the latch on the inside. Her shoulder stung like a bitch, but her own pain didn’t phase her in the slightest, didn’t matter to her at all. She’d never been so hysterical as she scrambled inside, rallying off what little information she had to the dispatcher on the phone. “I’m inside,” she said, phone on speaker, then dove for the floor next to Vera. “Nain!”
Careful of the shards of broken glass littered around Vera’s slippered feet, Maisie knelt. A patch of whatever drink had been in the glass had soaked up into the carpet.
She swiped the wet curls out of her eyes. “ Nain? Nain , it’s alright. I’m here.”
“Is the patient breathing?” the dispatcher asked for a second time.
Air passed through Vera’s cracked lips to the back of Maisie’s damp hand.
“Yes,” she exhaled and folded in a cry of relief. “Okay—you’re breathing. It’s alright.”
Her hands floated over her nain’s body without knowing what to do as she tried to sniffle back control of her tears. Listening to the dispatcher’s instructions not to move Vera made sharp pain lance through Maisie’s chest. Her knees, heart, head – everything ached. All she wanted was to wrap Vera up in her arms and see her eyes blink open up at her.
The blaring sound of the ambulance approaching carried on the wind through the broken front door.
“It’s alright.” Chin trembling, Maisie soothed her hand over her grandma’s hair. “I’m here.”
And she wasn’t going to leave again.