‘Alfie, buddy, are you OK? You haven’t been in the room all session. Something you want to talk about?’ Darren was standing right in front of him now, a hand on his shoulder.
‘Sorry, it’s just that I met with the physician earlier and he said that if all goes well in our sessions, I should be out of here in a couple of weeks.’
Alfie knew it sounded absurd. Why would he be sad about the prospect of leaving this place? He was getting what everyone who walked into St Francis’s wants: the chance to leave with their life still ahead of them.
‘Ah.’ Darren signalled for Alfie to sit down on the bench. ‘I mean, that’s got to be scary, right? You’ve been here, what … eight weeks or so now?’
Alfie nodded.
‘That’s going to be a hell of an adjustment, buddy. I’m not surprised you’re a little thrown! Come on, let’s sack this session off and get a coffee?’
Alfie smiled. Of course Darren would understand. How many patients had he seen come in and out of those doors, all with their own physical and emotional damage to deal with?
‘Darren, are you ever not a nice person? Please tell me you’re not 100 per cent great at all times? Like, surely you must get angry sometimes!’
‘Of course I’m not nice all the time. For example, I’m going to make you get me these coffees for all the shit you put me through, and then I’m also going to get two slices of cake just for the fun of it. And yes, you’re paying for those too!’
*
Despite only doing half a physio session, Alfie was exhausted by the evening. Speaking to Darren had been a big help but it hadn’t erased his anxiety. He’d been reassured that it was normal to feel concerned about leaving – going back toreality was a big deal and something a lot of patients worried about – but Alfie was still having trouble picturing what his life would be like outside the ward. In the end, the thoughts became so depressing that the idea of a sleepless night filled with flashbacks became a welcome option. He closed his eyes and prayed tonight his dreams would go easy on him.
It turned out Alfie wasn’talwaysso lucky.
‘ROSS, NO!’
He sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat had drenched his T-shirt, and his heart was pounding so fast he could barely distinguish one beat from another.
The ward appeared to be empty. None of the nurses were going to be checking in on him tonight, and neither was Mr Peterson, it seemed; he could hear his snores ringing out above the humming of the machines. Maybe everyone had become immune to his cries now; he’d become just another background noise in the soundtrack of the Moira Gladstone ward. How could everything around him continue as normal when Alfie’s world felt like it had been tipped upside down?
Alone in the darkness, he let his heart slow and his breathing grow deeper. Then he heard it.
‘Who are they?’
25
Alice
‘Sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?’ He sounded groggy, as though he was coming round from a thick hangover or a punch in the face.
How anyone could sleep through that noise was beyond her. This time the cries had felt more panicked and piercing than ever before.
‘No, don’t worry, I was already awake,’ she lied.
What the hell had she been thinking, asking him that?
Thankfully he’d ignored her question and changed the subject. She wasn’t sure if he’d done it knowingly, but she wasn’t willing to force the issue.
‘OK. Good. That’s good.’
Every word sounded like a huge effort for him. She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but everything around her seemed ten times louder than before.
The sound of her breathing.
The sound of his breathing.
Restless rustling of starched bed sheets.
Heart pounding on her side.
