I nod. ‘I really needed that hug. Thank you.’
She kisses me on the cheek.
‘Go on to bed, now.’
Fiona rubs at her eyes. ‘I can’t sleep.’
‘I know it’s hard. Just try, OK?’
‘But what about the crow?’
Cold air prickles around me.
‘What?’
Fiona opens her door and points a finger at her bedroom window. Her blinds are down, but the street lamp throws the silhouette of a crow against them. The bird taps once on thewindow and Fiona steps back towards me, her hand finding mine.
‘Can I sleep in with you and Cormac?’
We head into his room and she climbs into the bottom of Cormac’s bed.
I collapse onto my mattress, still clutching Dad’s bag of clothes.
Only when I hear Fiona’s gentle snores, do I start crying. And I don’t stop until I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I enjoy a few moments of blissful ignorance when I wake up before the memories of yesterday crush me. I check my phone, it’s 10 a.m. Cormac’s already gone to work. I didn’t even get undressed last night and I’m hot and sweaty in my borrowed tracksuit. There are voices downstairs, but I need a moment before I face anyone.
I throw the blankets off and get up. Dad’s bag of sodden clothes is on the floor. I put the air mattress away and take the wet clothes out of the bag. There’s a heavy thud as a ziplock bag falls out.
It contains his wallet, his phone and a burgundy leatherbound notebook.
The notebook he had as a teenager.
The phone is locked, but I have to take a moment when I see the photo on his screen. Me, him and Mum on Christmas morning. I’m eight, I think, and we’re all in matching onesies. Dad is wearing deer antlers and a red nose and I’m laughing at him. We’re so happy. It was a good day.
The notebook’s leather cover has protected the pages from most of the rainwater, but some are stuck together and look like they’ll rip. I’m able to see the first page though. On it is a name, underlined.
Brigid.
I can also see that many of the pages have been ripped out.
Nanny Bet?
I leave the notebook to dry on the windowsill and get ready.
Sheila tells me Mum and Nanny Bet have been at the hospital since seven and that Dad is still unconscious. I push away my annoyance at them for not waking me up. I probably needed the sleep. Sheila insists I eat a proper breakfast, then drives me down.
Mum and Nanny Bet are the only people in the waiting room. Mum has dark rings round her eyes and my nan has shrunk in on herself. I want to curl into them and feel safe, but when Nanny Bet looks my way a bitter taste burns my throat. She’s not getting my sympathy yet.
‘Any news?’
‘No, love.’ Mum stands and gives me a hug. ‘How’re you?’
I’m not quite sure how to answer that, so I shrug.
She squeezes my arm. ‘Me too.’
