‘Can I come in?’ Little Ruby peeked her face through his curtains.
‘Hey, Rubes. On holiday already? You OK?’
‘Yeah. Are you?’ She looked at him with a knowledge way beyond her years. ‘Can I?’ She nodded at his bed.
‘Of course, unless you’re too old and cool for that now?’
‘Not just yet.’ She ran at him, lay down and cuddled him close. ‘Especially not when you’re so sad.’
Her words threw him; you really couldn’t keep anything secret in this place. He squeezed her warm little frame.
They stayed like that the whole morning, with Ruby insisting they watch endless episodes of crap on TV to keep him distracted. As soon as Nurse Angles stepped on to the ward though, there was only one thing on his mind.
‘Alfie, honey, I know what you’re going to ask me and I haven’t heard yet.’ She hadn’t even looked up from her paperwork. ‘The moment I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know, OK?’ She stood up and laid her hand on his cheek. ‘Now, go back to bed and rest. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.’
Alfie attempted a smile and made his way back. He couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Mr Peterson’s old bed, now occupied by a very hairy, very disgruntled Greek man.
Alfie spent the rest of the day feeling utterly lost.
‘Will you stop pacing up and down the ward, please?’ The nurses were trying not to sound exasperated but Alfie knew he was frustrating them.
‘Sorry, I just don’t know what else to do.’
Walking helped. Walking made Alfie feel that he was at least doingsomething.
‘We get it, we do. But please, can you walk somewhere else other than just up and down? Maybe outside? Get some fresh air? You’re putting everyone on edge here.’
What did everyone else matter when the most important person here was on the operating table?
He knew it wasn’t their fault, so he bit back the words and took his sorry self out to the courtyard.
The sun was blinding, and if it had been any other day Alfie would have relished the warm air and blue skies. Today, however, he wanted solitude and misery.
‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’ An elderly lady and her husband were walking arm in arm around the garden. Alfie could only just about muster a half-smile.
‘Do you need a seat, son?’ A gruff middle-aged man had clearly clocked Alfie’s uneven walk.
‘No; thanks though.’ If he sat, he knew he’d be forced to make conversation, and he couldn’t face the thought of that. Sitting would be far too much of a commitment.
What if he needed to go back suddenly? What if they were looking for him?
Panic rose in his throat.
Alfie near enough ran out of the courtyard and down the corridors. He didn’t care who he had to push out of the way to get there. The panic was forcing him to move quicker and quicker, far too fast for his pounding heart and aching leg to keep up with. But he didn’t dare stop, not even to take a breath.
By the time he reached the entrance to the ward, the sweat was dripping down his face.
‘Alfie, what the hell has happened to you?’
He shook his head, feeling foolish. Of course they knew where to find him: the nurses had practically sent him packing to the courtyard themselves.
‘Nothing, just tired,’ he mumbled under his breath.
‘Hm, OK.’ The nurse was looking at him suspiciously. ‘Well, take some rest, there’s still no news. I am checking for you, I promise.’
He smiled, the first real smile of the day. ‘Thank you.’
57
