Dad and I watch my daughter leave to video-call her best friend, birthday trainers squeaking along the freshly mopped floor of the ward, long hair swinging between her shoulder blades.
‘She’s stopped letting me take pictures of her now,’ I say to Dad.
‘You were the same at her age, as I recall.’
‘So, what did you do?’
His smile twinkles. ‘I never stopped asking.’
I smile back at him, my ninety-three-year-old father, propped up on a stack of pillows. He looks a little pale, but, mercifully, much brighter than when I arrived. ‘Hey,’ I whisper, grasping his hand. ‘Are you starting to feel better now?’
‘Ah, it was all just a fuss about nothing.’ He glances over to the doorway, at which his eyes crinkle with delight. ‘Here he is. The man of the hour.’
It’s Josh. He’s carrying two coffees, a carrier bag swinging from one wrist.
Heart pinching, I swallow hard, stare down at the lino floor.
‘You’re looking perkier,’ he says to Dad, approaching the bed.
Dad had a fall last night, at somewhere close to midnight. Oliver and I were out, my phone buried deep in my handbag. So, in a panic, Dad called the only other number he knew off the top of his head that didn’t involve bothering the emergency services. Josh raced over there, bothered the emergency services straight away and sat with Dad till the ambulance came.
An hour or so later, I checked my phone to find half a dozen missed calls and a calm voicemail from Josh, telling me what had happened. But his attempt at reassurance could never have stemmed my panic, or guilt. How could I have been so careless? What if Josh hadn’t picked up?
Josh passes me a coffee. ‘Thought you might need caffeinating,’ he says, with the softest of winks.
I want to weep at his kindness. ‘Thank you,’ I manage.
Josh takes a seat on the other side of Dad’s bed. His gaze meets mine, for just a moment, but the tug of it feels so strong, I have to turn my face away.
He clears his throat, passes Dad the carrier bag. ‘I bought you a paper. And some grapes.’
‘Do people still bring grapes to hospitals?’ I wonder out loud as Dad’s thanking him.
Josh catches my eye and smiles. ‘Apparently.’
‘No, I didn’t mean . . . Sorry, I meant . . .’
Josh just beams as I continue to gabble.
I take a breath, shut my eyes for a moment, suppress a laugh. ‘I meant,thank you. That was really sweet.’
Dad pops a grape in his mouth. ‘Gosh, haven’t had a grape in a while. Lovely.’
Across the bed, Josh just raises his eyebrows at me in mock reproach, lips twitching with amusement. I can only raise my coffee cup, conceding defeat.
Dad eats another couple of grapes, then looks between us and lets out a satisfied sigh. ‘Maybe I should hit my head more often.’
‘Um, they don’t generally advise it, Dad.’
‘Well, all I can say is that this is nice. Being in the same room with you two again.’
A silence descends. My blood thunders. I can’t look at Josh.
Dad gestures with his arms and says, ‘Come on. Shall we have that birthday selfie?’
‘The birthday girl’s MIA. That would just be a hospital selfie.’
‘Well, that’s what all the cool kids do these days, isn’t it? Take pictures of their cannulas and whatnot. Come on, huddle in.’
