Ally hits me on the arm. She opens her eyes as wide as she can and presses her lips together in an exaggerated fashion. I know that facial expression. It means:If I open my mouth I am likely to say something inappropriately lascivious.
I shake my head in what I hope is a stern manner. We’re here to scope out the place where Mum may die, for God’s sake. Ally needs to act her age. She doesn’t have to know I’m admiring the good doctor’s fine rear view, too. He’s definitely more Ally’s type: all bohemian and altruistic. I tend more towards the high-wattage alpha male. Case in point: my husband.
Noah shows us the two available rooms. Most of the other rooms have their doors closed or kept slightly ajar, and I look fixedly ahead, not wanting any surprise glimpses of dying ‘guests’. Being upstairs brings home the real point of this place.
The room at the front will be perfect for Mum—if this is the right next step for her. Moving her somewhere, out of the family, into a place where she’ll be waiting to die, feels like giving in without even a fight. Even though the doctors have been very clear that there’s nothing to fight for.
The room is square, with what look like original floorboards, their chestnut colour warm andlustrous in the morning light. It must be east facing. That would be good. Mum’s been sleeping badly, and it strikes me that facing the morning might be easier after a bad night if the sun is shining in. And before she got sick, Mum was a morning person.
‘It doesn’t look like a hospital room.’ Ally is moving about the room, peering behind the curtains, opening the wardrobe and pressing down on the bed. ‘Nice bed.’
‘It’s not a hospital room. We’ve tried hard to make it homely. Our team is all highly trained and very experienced, but the priority here is to make our guests feel as comfortable as possible—not just physically, but emotionally.’
Noah shows us down the hall, past a neat line of wheelchairs, to the nurses’ station. He introduces us to two nurses, who are also two of the smiliest human beings I’ve ever met. Thank God for people like these, who dedicate their lives to making other people’s lives better. I could never imagine having that sense of vocation.
‘Would you like to have a coffee and a chat about how this might work?’ he asks. ‘You don’t have to decide anything right now, of course, but I’m sure you have a lot of questions.’
Ally and I exchange a look.
‘That would be good.’ Ally brushes some hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s all a bit overwhelming.’
‘I know it is.’ Noah puts a hand fleetingly on her arm and I catch the ghost of another smirk on my sister’s face. I roll my eyes internally.
Noah leads us back downstairs to the sunny living room. ‘Have a seat in here and I’ll grab the iPad. Then I’ll get you both sorted with a cuppa.’
He’s barely out of the door when Ally spins around.
‘Okay, I want to divorce Ted and marry this guy and have his babies, but he is so into you it’s quite pathetic.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I hiss, looking around in a panic. He could be back at any minute.
‘I’m not being ridiculous. It’s actually quite sweet. You know inSomething’s Gotta Give, when hot doctor Keanu totally ignores Frances McDormand and whatever the daughter’s name is?—’
‘Marin. Amanda Peet.’
‘Exactly. And he just stares and stares at Diane Keaton?—’
‘Erica Barry. Please. She’s a famous playwright, don’t you know?’
‘EricaBarry. How could I forget? And the others are laughing, because it’s so obvious that he has eyes forno one except Erica. That’s exactly what’s going on here. Come to think of it, Dr Noah has more than a bit of a Keanu vibe going on…’
She’s so right. He really does. ‘He really doesn’t.’
‘Just saying. Doc’s got itbad. And you’re not as old as Diane Keaton.’
‘Can we focus on the task at hand, please? Finding the right place for our beloved mother to die?’ I wheel out my favourite snippy tone.
‘You’re such a superior pain in the arse. Loosen up a little.’ Ally winks. ‘This is a shitty situation; take your fun where you can get it.’
‘And you’re an immature pain in the arse. Let’s get Mum sorted and then I can free up my headspace to focus on my useless fucking husband.’
The last part of that comes out somewhat more loudly than I mean it to and coincides with Noah walking back into the room with an iPad. His eyes widen, and out of the corner of my eye I see Ally let out a silent whistle. For God’s sake.
‘My apologies.’ I fix my signature smile on my face: polite, fake, and brooking no arguments. ‘Let’s get to it.’
CHAPTER 8
Noah
