However, Wilma was staring at her with such concern and compassion that Marge knew the other woman could feel her pain.
‘I can see that, love,’ Wilma told her.‘If it’s all right with you, I’ll pop back in to see you next week…’
Marge reached her hand out.‘I’d like that very much.’She didn’t add that she might not be here next week.She could see in Wilma’s eyes that the woman knew that already too.‘Thank you so much for coming.I can’t tell you how much I’ve treasured knowing you, Wilma.’
The other woman covered up a loud sniff by reaching up her sleeve for a hanky, then pretending to sneeze into it.They both knew what was happening, and Marge sensed that behind Estelle’s smile, she could see it too.
‘It’s been grand to know you too.’Wilma’s chin was wobbling now, so she gave Marge a final squeeze of the hand, and then bustled out of the door, repeating a cheery, ‘I’ll see you again soon, Marge,’ as she went.Marge wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, but she was going to choose to believe her.
‘That was lovely, Mum.Such a nice lady.And what an incredible story.It makes you think, doesn’t it.’
Marge had no idea where this was going.Was Estelle going to raise the subject of her own non-existent gene pool now?Was Marge going to have to blurt it all out, admit to all her lies, without the correct support structure in place?No.She wasn’t ready.She needed other people here for that.She needed the one person who knew, who understood, who would be here for Estelle long after Marge was gone.
‘Estelle, is my phone charged yet?’she asked, remembering their earlier conversation.
‘It should be, Mum, let me check.’Estelle got up from her chair and went back round to the bedside table, then picked up the phone and looked at the screen.
‘Yep, it’s charged.Do you want it now?’
Marge nodded, as she felt a tiny tug of relief.It was time to stop hiding the truth.And yes, she was heartbroken at the pain that this would cause, but the alternative could be so much worse.‘Yes please.Could you dial a number for me?’
‘Of course, Mum.’Estelle was already putting in Marge’s password.She’d been making calls on her behalf regularly over the last month, when Marge didn’t have the strength, the will or the voice to do it.
‘Thank you.I just need you to call my friend, Bernadette.’
11
AMBER
Amber wondered if Ray’s concussion could be contagious, because she was suddenly experiencing a crushing headache, rising anxiety and definite symptoms of confusion.How the hell had this become her day?A couple of hours ago, she’d been having an afternoon quickie with her new boyfriend and her biggest concerns were her stretch marks and her unshaven legs, and now she was in Glasgow Central Hospital and unless she was imagining it, there was an undercurrent of something very strange going on.
It had started when Ray had come round in the ambulance, realised what had happened, where he was, and where he was headed, and become totally agitated, to the point where he’d demanded they pull over and let him out.Thankfully, he’d passed out again before the paramedics were forced to make an emergency stop or tie him to the stretcher.The medics had already asked his name when they’d been treating him back at the house… ‘Ray Atkins,’ she’d told them, before correcting herself.‘Actually, his full name is Murray, but Ray for short.’He’d told her about his nickname the first time they’d met face to face.‘Call me Ray,’ he’d said, leaning on the counter of her flower shop.‘All my closest friends do.’He’d said it with such a cheeky smile that she’d thought it was cute.Funny.Or maybe she’d just been swayed by the fact that he’d ordered a hundred quid bouquet for his mother.
‘And is this his home address?’the paramedic had gone on.
‘No, he lives at…’ That was when Amber had realised she had no idea of the answer.She’d never been to his home.All she knew was that it was in Edinburgh.God, she really hadn’t done her research.
He’d woken up again just as they’d arrived at the ED, and had been absolutely furious when they’d wheeled him to a bay instead of bowing down to his wishes to be released.The whole time, Amber had just followed behind quietly, carrying the bag with his belongings, but it struck her now that she hadn’t actually told him that she’d brought his things and he’d been too furious to notice.
It was only thanks to the frankly heroic patience of the first nurse who’d treated him that he was still here, because she’d insisted on a preliminary check of his injuries and she’d stood her ground while he spoke to her in what was, quite frankly, a disgracefully entitled, arrogant way.Much as she’d like to blame the concussion, Amber was coming to realise that if they made it out of here in one piece, her short-lived romance with this man was very definitely over.She hated people who treated others unkindly.It happened regularly in her shop, when customers would act like she was beneath them, just because she was providing a service.There was one very posh lady from Kelvinside who had been coming in for years for weekly bouquets and had yet to utter a ‘please’, a ‘thank you’ or even learn her name.Amber and the rest of her team had nicknamed her Cruella and decided she was probably a serial killer in a past life.Or possibly in the present one too.
Amber had fully expected the young nurse to call security and have him ejected, but she’d stuck with him, until he’d threatened to leave again and demanded to see her superior.
That’s when things had taken an even stranger turn.The older nurse who’d come in… Amber pursed her lips as she thought back to the moment she’d seen her.The woman had red hair, a kind face, a soft smile and Amber had been absolutely positive in that moment that she’d seen her before.Maybe a customer at the shop?Or a woman who went to the same Pilates class?Or perhaps this was the nurse who’d treated her the time she’d come in here after a near-amputation of her pinky when her pruning shears had slipped.Thankfully they’d managed to save the tip, but it now pointed left when the rest of her digits were going right.
It had immediately been clear that Ray knew her.She’d called him Murray, so obviously not one of his ‘closest friends’, and he’d called her Bernadette, and his attitude had changed completely.He’d gone from outright belligerence to a more respectful, but firm, negotiation stance, and if this were a movie on TV, Amber would have punched the air and given a ‘hell, yeah’ for the way that the senior nurse had handled him.She’d clearly had some experience of this kind of behaviour because she’d swayed between reassurance, kindness and a firm, no-nonsense demeanour to get exactly what she wanted – a point being proven by the fact that Murray’s naked arse and now, thankfully, only semi-erect penis, was still in this bed.
Her gaze went to the bag of his possessions in the corner behind him.She’d considered giving him his clothes, but she didn’t want to make it any easier for him to flee the scene in case he later collapsed from undiagnosed complications, and she would have that on her conscience.And she wasn’t going to be responsible for him having a penis-meets-zip incident.There had been enough damage done today.
Was catastrophising another sign of second-hand concussion?
Now he was lying in bed, clearly fuming, and Amber realised she had no idea what to say to him, given that their entire conversational history so far had been flirtatious, getting-to-know-you, surface-level stuff or – after this morning – some explicit chat about his sexual preferences that she would probably think about every time she popped chicken nuggets in the air fryer for the rest of her life.
Should she leave?She thought about it, but his car was still back at her house, so he’d need to come back there to get it.Cue an inevitably toe-curling reunion.Also, leaving someone in their time of need was pretty ruthless, especially when she’d been snogging the face off him just a few hours before.Besides, the only thing worse than having a medical emergency the first time you have sex with someone new was realising that the potentially life changing incident was all down to the malevolent presence of a five-year-old’s SpongeBob Square Pants, so she did feel more than a little responsible.
‘Can I get you anything?’she asked him, more for something to say than because she wanted to actually help.He’d practically ignored her since they’d got here, and the few words he’d said to her had been snappy, so she wasn’t exactly up for playing Florence Nightengale.‘Water?’
‘No.’There was a pause, before he caught himself and added a somewhat grudging, ‘Thank you.’
