‘No, thank you. I want to stay here until Will comes out of surgery.’
Eva gave her a look which told Grace she’d been hoping to get rid of her.
‘I understand.’
She wished the woman would stop saying that. She didn’t understand anything. When she’d walked out of the hospice for the last time, she’d had to leave her husband in there. Or what was left of him. She wasn’t going anywhere.
‘There is a cafeteria at the end of this corridor’—the woman pointed in the opposite direction to the operating theatre—‘where you can buy meals. And the machines with coffees and snacks are behind me. They are free.’
‘OK.’
‘Please don’t ask reception for updates. They won’t have that information. I will be on shift all night, and I will come and tell you as soon as we have any news.’
Grace nodded.
‘I’ll get you a blanket, and then I suggest you get some sleep. You can use one of the sofas if you like.’
Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.
The woman came back with a pale green fluffy throw, which matched the furniture, of course, and a clear plastic bag with a phone, some keys and a wallet inside.
‘These are your… brother’s things. I’m passing them to you for safekeeping.’
Grace dimly remembered saying she was his sister, to be allowed on the helicopter. That seemed like many hours ago. It had obviously gone down on the official form. She stuffed the sealed bag inside her rucksack. Then she quickly checked to see if there was anything useful already in the rucksack. She couldn’t for the life of her remember packing it. All it had in it was a bottle of water, her phone, keys, sunglasses and a cat toy she’d forgotten to give to Karen. Nothing remotely useful. Not even a spare T-shirt. It was only supposed to have been a quick walk to Will’s and back along the coast path.
‘Thank you.’
‘Could you sign here, please, to say you’ve received them.’
She scribbled her name, Grace Foreman, on the tablet with the plastic pencil, under the eagle eye of the nurse.
‘I take it that’s your married name?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
That at least was true. Or it had been. She wasn’t about to sign it as Grace Lancing– that was edging into fraud territory. She might be dazed, but she wasn’t stupid.
Eva was staring at her bloodied T-shirt again, obviously desperate to wrench it off her.
‘As I said earlier, it would be a good idea for you to get some sleep.’
‘I’ll try.’
Grace was convinced it was code for ‘Be quiet and don’t make any more trouble.’ She checked the time on her phone. It was two o’clock in the morning. A sudden pang of hunger made her stomach growl. She’d had nothing to eat since a couple of biscuits at Will’s about ten hours before. The woman had told her it would be ages yet before they heard anything, so she might as well grab something.
Since it was a cafeteria in a Greek hospital, there was plenty of food on offer, even at this hour of the morning. Grace chose a portion of what looked like homemade moussaka with greens, or horta as they called them, and poured herself a glass of water from a jug. Will wouldn’t want her to starve. He constantly made comments about her ‘healthy appetite’.
Various medical staff were seated at the tables, talking animatedly in Greek. Perhaps they were discussing cases, but for all she knew they could be chatting about nightclubs and cocktails. She picked a seat at the only unoccupied table, in a corner. As soon as she sat down, a middle-aged man with faded blond hair appeared with his tray and gave her a sad smile.
‘Are you English?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah, I guessed right. Do you mind if I share your table?’
It wasn’t really what she wanted, but she could hardly say no.
‘Please… go ahead.’
