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: Chapter 22

I’ve had many cab drivers in my time – counsellors, comedians, cultural ambassadors, some who complain about every other driver on the road, others who ask inappropriate questions with amorous undertones – but today, mercifully, I get one who is blissfully quiet and not trying to get extra points for dazzling conversation.

A full five minutes before we arrive I am positioning myself ready to leap out of the vehicle the second we come to a standstill outside the nursing home.

‘Amy!’ Gareth is there to greet me as I step through the door. I see a flicker of confusion as he takes in my outfit but he knows this isn’t the time to quiz me over it. ‘The medics are just checking her over.’

‘In her room? Can I go in?’ I ask in earnest.

‘Claire wanted you to stop by her office first.’

‘Really?’ Claire is the manager. I rarely see her, which makes me feel this is even more serious.

‘I’ll wait here,’ Gareth notes. ‘Keep an eye.’

‘Thank you,’ I say as I hurry down the corridor, still feeling light-headed as I tap on her door.

Claire’s face is grave as she invites me to take a seat.

‘Do you think it was the new medication, unbalancing her?’ I cut to the chase as I pull the chair closer to her desk.

‘I’m concerned there’s a little more to it than that.’ She folds her hands neatly in front of her.

‘Oh?’ My stomach drops.

‘Your mother was up on the fire escape. I don’t want to alarm you but there is a concern that she wanted to end her life.’

‘Oh no, no,’ I sigh in relief. ‘It’s not that.’

‘I know it’s hard to face—’

‘No, really. That’s not why she was up there.’

Claire tilts her head.

‘She just wanted to look at the view,’ I insist.

Claire doesn’t look convinced. ‘She’s never attempted anything like this before . . .’

‘Well . . .’ I squirm.

Claire raises an eyebrow.

‘I may have taken her up there.’

‘You may have?’

I feel like a naughty pupil in the headmistress’s office. ‘I did take her up there,’ I blurt. ‘She loved looking out over London at night, the lights reflecting on the river. She said it made her feel like Wendy in Peter Pan.’

‘Which brings me back to my concern for her taking flight.’

‘I can see that.’ I bite my lip. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d try and go up there without me.’

‘Well, now you mention it, she did say she was looking for you.’

‘Oh gosh,’ I say. My heart squeezes with pain. It’s my fault. I brought on this fall.

‘I’m not saying that to make you feel responsible. I just want you to know what happened.’

‘Right,’ I gulp. ‘How bad is it?’

‘They want to take her into hospital for a scan, just as a precaution.’

‘What part of her do they want to scan?’

‘Shall we go through and see her?’ She avoids responding.

‘Yes, of course,’ I say, leaping to my feet. ‘And I promise I won’t take her near the roof ever again.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t be able to even if you wanted to. We’ll be locking the door now.’

‘Right. Good idea.’

I follow sheepishly behind her, beckoning Gareth to join me.

‘This is Sophie’s daughter, Amy.’ Claire introduces me to the two medics – both women, both warm and welcoming – and then dips out, saying, ‘I’ll leave you to the experts.’

Apparently if you’ve seen one resident fall, you’ve seen them all.

And then the medics step aside.

‘Oh Mum!’ I exclaim, taking in the pile of bloodied tissues next to her. ‘Look at your poor head!’ My hand hovers over the gash at her temple.

‘We’re just cleaning it up.’

‘Right . . .’

I crouch down to take my mum’s hand, asking, ‘Does it hurt?’

‘I’m all right, just embarrassed. I shouldn’t have tried to climb in my flip-flops.’

‘She lost her footing and hit her head on one of the metal steps.’

‘Oh god!’ I grimace.

‘We’re going to take her to hospital once she’s had a chance to catch her breath.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. I hate feeling so helpless. I hate it when I can’t make things right for her.

Suddenly I feel Gareth’s hand on my shoulder and it has the same effect as a heated lavender-scented neck pillow, morphing my anxiety to gratitude – I’m so glad he’s here, glad my mum is fully present, glad the medics are so kind.

‘We’re just going to get the wheelchair so we can take her to the ambulance.’

‘Wheelchair?’ Mum recoils. ‘Not today, Satan!’

I roll my eyes. She’s been watching Queer Eye again.

‘It’s just a formality,’ I assure her.

‘You won’t get your joyride to the hospital if you look like nothing is wrong,’ Gareth whispers.

‘Good point,’ she acknowledges. ‘Are you coming too?’

‘We’ll be following right behind you.’

She smiles contentedly but I get a little teary as I see them securing her and then closing the doors to the ambulance.

‘Come here,’ Gareth says, opening his arms to me.

I can’t resist a moment’s surrender, leaning into his chest and exhaling. Mum seems okay. She’ll get checked out and who knows, they might even tell me the bump to her head has set her right again. I slide my arms up Gareth’s back, hugging him tight, drawing from his strength.

‘You little bitch!’

I leap back as these words blast from right beside me on the pavement.

‘Tristan!’ I gasp, startled to see him standing so close – his face contorted with disgust. Where did he come from?

‘So you walk out on me and run straight into this luddite’s arms.’

‘Luddite?’

‘You’ve been screwing him the whole time, haven’t you?’

‘What? Gareth and I have been friends since school! He’s just here to help me.’

‘Is that what they’re calling it?’

‘Yes, when someone helps you out that’s exactly what they call it.’

‘You dirty little slut!’

Gareth goes to step in but I assure him I can handle this.

‘Are you suggesting we’re on a hot date at a nursing home?’ I gesture at the building only to notice assorted faces clustered at the window. Oh great, now we’re causing a scene. ‘My mother has just gone to hospital in an ambulance,’ I hiss. ‘We’re following her there now.’

I motion for Gareth to get in the car but Tristan steps in front of me as I try to reach for the passenger door.

‘You’re lying to me!’

‘Please move out of the way!’

‘I know you’re sleeping with him.’

‘I am not!’ I hoot, exasperated. ‘I’m also not sleeping with you. Ever again. Whatever we had was clearly a mistake.’

I try to move past him but he blocks me, every which way.

‘Ohhh! Look, it’s like a scene from a show!’ Malcolm is now at the door with Mum’s next-door neighbour Beverly.

‘I think they’re doing the paso doble,’ she opines. ‘Look at their costumes, all Spanishy.’

‘Amy?’ Gareth hesitates – seemingly unsure whether to get in the car or come to my aid.

‘I have to go. I have to get to my mother. We’ll talk about this later.’ Which we absolutely won’t but I’ll say anything to get away.

‘Show me your phone!’ he demands.

‘What?’

‘Prove you’re not sleeping with him and I’ll let you go.’

‘I don’t have to prove anything to you!’ I’m incredulous. Even more so when he tries to make a grab for it.

As we tussle for it, my phone flies out of my hand, hitting the tarmac hard. Tristan lurches into the road to retrieve it, just as a taxi rounds the corner – it’s the premonition! I grab him by the arm and pull him clear, just as the cab crunches over my phone.

‘Ha! Karma!’ he taunts, looking back at the pulverised glass.

‘No, mate, this is karma!’ In one swoop Gareth levels him.

Tristan rocks back on his heels, landing squarely on his rear. He peers up at Gareth in a daze. ‘You just hit me!’

‘And she just saved your life.’ He scoops up what is left of my phone and then opens the car door for me. ‘Come on,’ he urges. ‘We need to get to the hospital.’

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