6thNovember
Blythe and Sam’s drive to the hospital was filled with chatter about who the trespasser might be and what she was doing snooping around Sam’s cottage. Once they had exhausted a few theories Blythe’s thoughts returned to poor Eden. She’d had no updates from Vicky, which was both understandable and worrying. Blythe tried to think positively. She needed to be upbeat for Vicky – anything less wasn’t going to be very helpful. She took a deep breath. Sam’s car had a new-car smell to it. Mixed with a hint of Sam’s aftershave, it was quite appealing. She glanced over at him at the same time as he smiled in her direction. Blythe returned her attention to directing Sam to the hospital.
He pulled into a parking bay. ‘Should I wait here? I don’t want to intrude.’ That was really thoughtful of him.
‘You don’t have to wait; it was kind of you to give me a lift.’
‘I’m not going to dump you here and clear off. I’ll hang around.’
Blythe felt bad but secretly pleased – Sam was turning out to be one of the good guys. ‘How about you come in? I’ll buy you a cup of sludge masquerading as coffee and we can find out if I’m likely to be here all night or if Vicky and Eden are going to need a lift home.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ he said, getting out of the car. ‘This Owen, what’s the deal there?’
‘Ahh, now that is a long story,’ began Blythe, and she gave him the potted history of Owen and Vicky’s romance and subsequent imploding over what Blythe couldn’t really remember only accusations from both of them that the other one had been cheating. They were still chatting as they entered the hospital. The accident and emergency department was heaving and a scent of disinfectant and boredom pervaded the air.
They were sent round the houses from accident and emergency to children’s emergency and finally onto the children’s surgical ward where they found Owen reading a women’s magazine and sipping a coffee while Vicky stared through the glass of some nearby double doors. Blythe rushed in and Sam stood back.
‘How is she?’ asked Blythe, automatically wrapping Vicky in a hug.
‘She’s being operated on,’ said Vicky, her eyes red and puffy and her features etched with worry.
Blythe’s surprise must have shown on her face. She’d hoped they’d give Eden some medicine and send her home. Didn’t kids get tummy ache all the time? ‘Is she all right?’ asked Blythe. Vicky gave her a look. ‘Sorry. Obviously she’s not all right but she’s absolutely in the best place.’
‘They think it’s appendicitis.’ Vicky bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. ‘I went down to theatre with her and they gave her this anaesthetic. One minute she was awake and the next she was out but her eyes were still open. It was horrible.’ Vicky’s lip wobbled.
Blythe gripped her friend’s hand. ‘You poor thing. It’s good that they know what it is and it’s easily fixed.’ Blythe was scratching around for positive things to say.
‘They didn’t seem that certain to me,’ piped up Owen, putting down his well-thumbed magazine.
‘But the doctor explained about that,’ said Vicky, and Blythe could hear the strain in her voice.
‘My grandad came in here to have a bunion removed. He left with deep vein thrombosis and no dentures,’ said Owen, nodding earnestly.
‘I swear I’ll brain him in a minute,’ whispered Vicky.
‘Hey, Owen,’ said Sam. ‘How about we see if there’s a café open and I’ll get you a decent coffee.’
‘I should probably stay to support Vicky.’
‘No, you’re good. I’ve got Blythe now. In fact you could go home. Like all the way home to Oxford.’ Vicky was virtually shooing him out of the chair.
‘How’d you know that’s where I’m living now? Have you been secretly stalking me on social media?’ He gave a cheeky grin. ‘Because it’s cool if you—’
‘Come on,’ said Sam, seeming to sense the irritation practically radiating from Vicky. ‘Before the café closes.’
‘Oh, okay mate. If Vicky’s sure.’ He waited for her response.
‘One hundred per cent,’ she said.
‘Cool.’ Owen got to his feet and headed for the exit.
‘What would you both like to drink?’ asked Sam.
‘Two teas, please,’ said Blythe. ‘Thank you,’ she added, and surreptitiously pointed at Owen’s retreating back.
‘You’re welcome,’ mouthed Sam.
When the doors closed behind the men, Vicky’s shoulders dropped. ‘Bloody hell. He’s a nightmare. He keeps coming out with all this really unhelpful stuff that’s making my brain fizz. I’m so worried about Eden and all he can do is spout rubbish.’ Vicky put her hands on her head as if expecting it to explode.
