The nurse was either an Oscar-worthy actress or had yet to be briefed about Amelia’s condition.
‘I am sorry, hon,’ I apologised again. ‘I promise I’ll search for it when I go back later. I’ll turn the place upside down until I find it.’
My sister’s eyes met mine, and there was a look in them I’d never seen before. ‘You won’t have to. It’s in the jewellery box, like I told you.’
It felt like a gauntlet being thrown down and I swallowed nervously, afraid to pick it up.
‘I’ve been telling everyone all morning about how Sam and I first met.’
The nurse’s smile looked totally natural, while my own felt like a frozen mask.
‘That’s nice,’ I said, trying not to let my eyes stray to the door of the room. Mum was making her own way to the hospital by taxi; it had been a long time since I’d felt this desperate waiting for a parent to arrive.
‘Yes,’ Amelia said on a sigh that straddled a line between nostalgia and exhaustion. ‘It was so romantic, wasn’t it?’
She shifted in the bed, looking uncomfortable. That made two of us.
‘How wouldyoudescribe Sam, Lexi?’ Amelia asked. She was testing me. The monitors behind her showed her elevated heart rate. But if they attached a set to me, mine could have overtaken her easily.
‘He’s… he’s like someone out of a romantic novel… a real hero,’ I settled on, pulling the neck of my jumper away from my throat. It was starting to feel incredibly hot in there.
‘Well, I’m sure I’ll see him soon,’ the nurse repeated.
‘Actually, youcouldsee him today,’ Amelia declared. My stomach took a lurch, the kind that normally only happens in rapidly descending lifts. ‘Is there a shop that sells stationery in the hospital?’ she asked bizarrely, turning to me.
I nodded, beyond confused now.
‘Could you buy me a sketch pad and some pencils, so I can draw him?’
There was probably a goldfish-like quality to my open-mouthed amazement. ‘You’re going to draw him… Sam?’ I asked. His name felt weird in my mouth.
She flopped back on the pillows. ‘It’s the next best thing, seeing as you didn’t bring in the locket.’
*
Amelia couldn’t draw. I don’t say that to be mean. It’s just a fact. She can’t draw, in the same way that I can’t sing or understand a spreadsheet. I’d studied art at A level, but my older sister had opted for all the sciences.This is going to be interesting, I thought, as I travelled down in the lift to the foyer.
It took a few moments to find the items I’d been dispatched to buy. While searching, I threw a couple of sudoku magazines into my wire basket, as well as two bars of her favourite chocolate and a packet of paracetamol. The last was for me.
For a hospital gift shop, they had a surprisingly wide range of drawing materials. I picked up an A3 size sketch pad and several boxes of pencils. The carrier bag felt heavy, or maybe that was just the feeling in my heart, as I once again made my way to the lifts. As far as I was aware, Amelia’s style of drawing had peaked at stick people, with right-angled hands and feet and big balloon heads. I was already worrying about how to react when the drawing she presented looked more like a game of hangman than an illustration of her husband.
Thereisno husband, a voice in my head pointedly reminded me.
*
I greeted Mum like she’d just returned from an Arctic expedition.
‘You’re here,’ I cried delightedly, enveloping her in a huge hug. Amelia was watching us closely, so I had to hope that my extra-hard squeeze alerted her that things with Amelia hadn’tsorted themselves out after a good night’s restthe way she’d hoped.
‘The nurse was telling me you went for some tests this morning,’ I said hesitantly, turning to my sister.
Amelia’s eyes moved reluctantly from the carrier bag in my hand. ‘Yes. Although I’m not sure what they’re looking for because I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone.’
‘You still can’t remember anything about the night you collapsed?’
She shook her head.
‘Or being on the beach?’ I added tentatively. The ground I was walking on was suddenly as unstable as the mudflats where Amelia had been found.
