In the quiet warmth of the car, Tom had nodded off in the back seat, but spent several minutes insisting that he hadn’t when we finally pulled up at the fishermen’s cottages.
‘I’ll walk you to your door,’ I said as I climbed wearily out of the driver’s seat.
‘I’ve been walking up and down this pathway unaided for the last fifty years. I think I can manage it alone,’ Tom responded with some of the acerbic humour I would forever associate with him. Even so, I noticed he didn’t offer any further protest when I fell into step beside him on the sandy path.
He paused at his threshold, withdrawing his front-door key on a length of old frayed string, which inexplicably made me want to cry.
‘You look after your mother now,’ Tom said, his voice even gruffer than usual. He reached for my shoulder and gave it an awkward squeeze. ‘And yourself too, my girl.’
Fortunately, Mum had a key for the cottage, because the one I’d been using for the last three months was still sitting on a table in the hallway. I picked it up now and slipped it back into my pocket. I had an inkling I was going to be needing it again for a while.
‘Why don’t you have Amelia’s bed tonight?’ I suggested.
Mum nodded wearily and I suspected she’d be asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Yet she paused with one foot on the bottom tread of the stairs.
‘You didn’t mind Tom being there tonight, at the hospital? You didn’t think it was disrespectful to your dad?’ she asked hesitantly. It was probably the wrong time to be having this conversation, but she had enough to worry about currently. This, at least, was one concern I could easily dismiss.
Sometimes the right words come to you just when you need them. ‘Dad’s been gone a long time, Mum. And he wouldn’t want you to be facing any of this alone. And besides, I think he’d approve of Tom.’
‘I just wish you had someone too,’ Mum said sadly. ‘Will you call Nick to let him know what’s happened today?’
It was a question that had been circling in my head for hours, but my mind was made up.
‘No. As far as Nick is aware, I’m halfway over the Atlantic right now. There’s no need for him to know I never left.’
29
‘What did they say again?’
If I needed confirmation of how nervous Mum was, it was there in the number of times she asked me to repeat the overnight update I’d been given from the hospital.
‘They said she had a pain-free night and was resting comfortably,’ I replied, pulling out of a junction and into the stream of morning traffic. I felt far more comfortable being back behind the wheel of Amelia’s car again rather than the hire one, which was being collected later that day.
Amelia’s cardiologist had finished his morning rounds but was waiting on the ward for us to arrive. It was a reminder that what had happened to her all those months ago had been truly unique. I doubted every patient’s family received this kind of preferential treatment.
‘Lexi, Esme, it’s good to see you again,’ Dr Vaughan said politely, extending his hand as we approached.
‘I’d like to say the same,’ I told him as we shook hands, ‘but I was kind of hoping we’d never meet again. No offence intended.’
‘None taken,’ the consultant said with a smile. He swept an arm, like a waiter ushering us to a table. ‘Shall we continue our conversation in Amelia’s room?’
Dr Vaughan stepped to one side at the doorway, allowing us a private moment together. I was so determined not to cry. I lasted a good twenty seconds, which all things considered was pretty good going.
‘You should be in New York,’ Amelia said, her eyes narrowing, as I finally released her from a hug.
‘And you should be at home watching something cheesy on Netflix… with Sam,’ I added. It was a white flag. I was asking her for a truce.
She nodded slowly, understanding perfectly. Perhaps being blue-lighted to hospital in an ambulance makes you reassess which battles are worth fighting.
‘There was nothing worth bingeing.’ Her sassy retort was ruined by the breathless catch I could once again hear in her voice.
Beneath the banter, I could see the fearful expression in her eyes. I reached for her hand. Wherever the next half hour or so would take us, I wanted her to know she wasn’t going there alone.
None of it was easy listening. To hear that my thirty-nine-year-old sister had suffered a heart attack was shocking enough, but to learn that the resultant damage was such that surgery, or even a transplant, might eventually be her only option was terrifying.
‘But in the interim, I believe we need to revisit the question of cardioversion,’ Dr Vaughan said, his voice grave. ‘Amelia’s erratic heartbeat is putting too great a strain on her heart, which, despite her medication, is still struggling to work as it should.’
My eyes went to my sister. She’d been so insistent that she wouldn’t consider the procedure until Sam returned; how were we going to persuade her to agree to it now?
