CHAPTER TWENTY
True to his word, Rob’s car pulls into the kerb outside the hotel in what seems like just minutes later. He must have got straight in the car after he spoke to me.
I slide gratefully into the passenger seat.
‘You okay?’ he murmurs, and I shake my head, shivering violently despite the heat in the car. ‘No, of course you’re not okay,’ he admonishes himself. ‘Stupid question.’
He shoves the car in gear and we race off into the night.
It feels unreal, as if I’m watching the drama happening to someone else. Signs for the hospital keep flashing by but it’s as if I’m numb inside. I want to just stay in this car, being driven along by Rob, and never get to the hospital. Then I won’t have to deal with what I might find there.
It’s only after Rob’s parked the car and we’re approaching the main entrance, and I see Mum standing just inside waiting for us, that the full force of what’s happened hits me.
I run through the revolving doors, fear catching in my throat at the sight of Mum’s pale, stricken face. We hug but break apart quickly so we can talk.
‘How is he? Was it really a heart attack?’ I ask. ‘Can I see him?’
She nods. ‘Of course you can, love.’ She gives a wan little smile. ‘Your dad’s not going anywhere. Not at the moment.’
I swallow hard and glance back at Rob, trying and failing to keep the tears from falling.
Rob comes over and for a second, I feel his warm hands gripping my arms. ‘I’ll head off now, Fen. But if you need anything, you or your mum’ – he glances across at her – ‘I can be back here in a flash, okay?’
I nod, the lump in my throat growing bigger.
Then I start walking with Mum down endless corridors that smell of disinfectant. She’s walking really fast and I find myself having to half-run to keep up with her.
‘Where’s Rich?’ I ask. ‘Is he here?’
She nods. ‘I got in the ambulance but Rich nabbed a waiting taxi and said he’d find you and follow the ambulance. But of course you were nowhere to be found. Then Rob called to say he was on his way to fetch you and Rich got the taxi along here himself.’
I feel a stab of guilt. Leaving the party and chasing after Ethan as I did had made things difficult for Mum and Rich. I feel terrible.
Then something else occurs to me. Something much worse.
Mum told me to help Dad move the snow machine.
What if I’d stayed behind and done what she asked, instead of getting into that taxi with Alicia? Would it have made a difference? Would it have saved Dad the strain of moving it himself?
But I don’t have time to think about this because now we’re arriving on the ward. And there’s Rich, standing stiffly by a curtained cubicle, his dinner jacket and loosened tie looking oddly out of place. The green curtain has been pulled back on this side.
I see a figure lying in the bed.
The sight of Dad is a shock. His eyes are closed and his pallor is grey, and he looks so frighteningly vulnerable just lying there, wired up to the machines that are keeping his heart beating.
A nurse comes in and checks the readings on the various machines, and I want to ask her if he’s going to survive this, but my tongue seems stuck to the roof of my mouth.
‘Dr Neville will be along shortly,’ says the nurse with a sympathetic smile. ‘He’ll be able to answer all your questions.’
‘Are you okay, Rich?’ I ask when the nurse leaves.
He shakes his head. ‘Yeah. I can’t believe it.’ He stares mournfully at Dad.
My brother is rarely at a loss for words. Seeing Rich so stunned brings it home to me like a punch to the stomach that we could lose Dad. At any moment, his fragile heart could give up under the strain.
‘He’s going to pull through,’ says Mum firmly.
I glance at her, swallowing on the big lump in my throat. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Your dad’s a fighter and he’s basically a strong, healthy man.’
I nod and glance at Rich, but he seems unreachable; lost in his own private hell.
‘Dad’s never smoked and he hardly drinks,’ I point out.
Mum nods eagerly. ‘Plus he walks a lot and eats a healthy diet.’
‘Apart from his obsession with Yorkie bars,’ I remind her, trying to lighten the mood. ‘But yes, Dad’s a really healthy man. That’s bound to make a difference to his – erm - recovery.’
She looks at me with a scared but hopeful smile. And I suddenly realise that Mum, who’s usually the strong one, is looking to us for reassurance.
I’ve never seen Mum cry. Not even in front of her closest family. She doesn’t like to show weakness. Even now, her eyes are dry, although I can see the fear in her clenched fists and the way she keeps clearing her throat slightly every time she speaks.
‘I’m going to get a coffee,’ says Rich suddenly. ‘Anyone?’
We both shake our heads and Rich walks quickly from the room as if he’s desperate to be anywhere but here.
‘He’s always had a fear of hospitals, bless him,’ murmurs Mum. ‘Ever since he had to have that operation on his sinuses when he was little.’
It flashes across my mind to wonder why Mum can’t see my fears in the same understanding light. But I feel too scared right now to waste time on such thoughts. Rich is Mum’s favourite. Always has been. Always will be. But that’s probably because she and Rich are quite similar personalities. I’ve never doubted that Mum loves me . . .
I pull a couple of chairs over to the bed and Mum sits down and ever so gently touches Dad’s hand. I sit down next to her and we just watch him. It’s like we’re willing him to keep breathing in and out.
In that moment, if I could give my dad my healthy heart, I swear I would . . .
Dr Neville arrives a minute later and tells us - in a low, rumbling voice that I sometimes have to strain to hear - that Dad has suffered a heart attack and is critically ill. The objective now is to stabilise him. Only then will they be able to proceed with an operation called angioplasty, which opens a blocked artery, followed by the insertion of a stent to keep the artery open. He says it all in a straightforward, matter-of-fact way that’s both calming and reassuring. Dad’s life is in his hands, along with the surgeon who will perform the operation. It seems odd that we’re putting our faith in total strangers to save Dad’s life.
Like me, Mum is hanging onto Dr Neville’s every word, .
Before he leaves, he says the thing no one ever wants to hear: ‘The next twenty-four hours will be critical.’
Mum glances fearfully at me and I smile, feigning a confidence I really don’t feel. ‘Dad’s tough. He’ll get through this no bother.’
It suddenly occurs to me that I should let Rob know what’s happening to Dad. It was so good of him to collect me from the hotel and drive me here. After discovering Ethan and Cressida in a passionate clinch on the dance floor, I was in no fit state to get anywhere on my own steam. Thank goodness for Rob.
I feel ashamed when I think that I didn’t even look for him at the Snow Ball. My whole focus was on Ethan. I wasn’t really aware of anyone else.
More fool me.
Tears well up but I open my eyes wide and blink fast to defeat them. I can’t let Mum see me fall apart. I’ve got to stay strong for her.
Dad is my focus now. Not a cheating, lying scumbag like Ethan Fox . . .