Edward cocked his head. ‘He has some weird kind of hobby, right?’
‘They don’t think it’s weird. He’s one of these historical re-enactment fellas. Putting on medieval battles,’ said Kim. ‘My mum has started getting into the whole scene. She’s even been trying to source an iron helmet. He has an injury in his throat from an accident.’
‘Okay, frankly I’m baffled,’ began Stevie, ‘but I can’t go today because I have a hospital appointment this afternoon.’ The other two looked at her enquiringly. ‘Routine, folks.’
‘On a weekend?’
‘That’s what the card said. It’s just—’
She was interrupted by a man who approached carrying a lunch tray. It was William Scott, the newsreader, posh-sounding, broad and with a lantern jaw that sprouted stray hairs the shaver had missed.
‘Is it Pirate Day?’ he laughed.
‘Sorry what?’ said Kim.
‘The day when everyone dresses like a pirate and goes “aye aye me hearties”. The eyepatch on this lady …’
Edward was on his feet in a fraction of a second, the sound of his chair shooting backwards on the lino making everyone else stare. ‘You wouldn’t laugh about that if you knew what had happened to her,’ he said, shoving his own face into Scott’s. ‘You public school weirdo. Go and read the news in a silly voice.’
Kim flinched and Edward realized she had probably not seen anger like that in him before. She had been married to a violent man who could catch fire in an instant, and his own flash of temper may have upset her. He felt a pricking of his skin, his guilt appearing as goosebumps. He sat back down immediately. She said, ‘Ed, Ed, he didn’t mean it—’
‘Oh I think he fucking did,’ said Stevie, not helping. The newsreader turned and exited. ‘But I like “Go and read the news in a silly voice”. That’s God-tier stuff. I’m having that line.’
Kim was silent as Scott slunk away. Then she asked, ‘Do you need the newsreaders to like you?’
‘To do my show? Not really. But he’s the sort who’ll complain. I didn’t hit him, did I?’
‘We can say he hit you,’ said Stevie, making Edward laugh. ‘Oh God,’ he murmured. The meeting had lost its focus. Then Kim’s phone beeped with a text.
‘Everything okay?’ Edward asked.
‘It’s Colin,’ she said, reading the message. ‘My office deputy, or near as. He wants advice on the couple who want to buy the penthouse. Although …’
‘Although?’
‘It’s that strange duo. They may be a lot of things, but they aren’t boring.’
‘Use his line, “Go and read the news in a silly voice” – that’ll sort it in a second,’ said Stevie. ‘Fucking genius that. Go on, Kim, type it before we forget it.’
Chapter Sixteen
The fifteen-mile trip to Exeter General, with blue lights and sirens all the way, took twenty-one minutes. Andrea counted every single one of them, her eyes glued to Nina’s tiny figure.
They sat in the rear of the ambulance, two paramedics separating her and Gabriel from Nina, wires and machines attached to her every extremity. As Andrea stood for a moment to look over the paramedics’ shoulders, her daughter’s eyes rolled back in her head and her lips once again foamed with froth.
Andrea wept, her grip on Gabriel’s hands like a vice, his own tears falling on their locked fingers.
At the hospital, the vehicle shut off its siren, gunned left, right and then reversed into position as the rear doors were flung open. Andrea scrambled forward to grasp for Nina’s hand but, before she could touch it, Nina was lifted out of the vehicle on a gurney and propelled inside through double doors. Andrea and Gabriel climbed out of the rear of the vehicle and were told to wait by the driver.
They stood in the car park, hesitating before following the circus of noise and movement and terror that surrounded their daughter. Had they heard someone say ‘meningitis’? Hadn’t the consultant ruled that out?
Gabriel felt in his pocket for the bag with the yellow ampoules in and remembered the doctor had taken it with growing urgency.
‘I’m wearing the wrong clothes,’ said Andrea blankly. They both looked down at her dressing gown and slippers, claw-footed monster ones that made Nina chortle with glee.
‘It’s OK,’ croaked Gabriel eventually. ‘Nina loves those slippers.’
And then Andrea’s knees gave way and together they huddled, sobbing, on the cold concrete of the loading bay, until a kind nurse ushered them inside once more – back into their living hell.
