‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Adam says. ‘I’ve been keeping her in the loop.’
Ruairi, Conal and I look at him, all of us confused.
‘Seriously, Mum. She’s fully embraced her new iPhone. We’ve been on WhatsApp.’
‘Mrs Bishop’s on WhatsApp?’ Ruairi asks.
‘Well, it’s better than Snapchat,’ Adam says. ‘They got me to show them that and I was tortured for a full week with filtered pictures. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from some of the sights I saw.’
‘Them?’ Ruairi asks, still confused, and it dawns on me that my brother must not be aware of just how much our mother and Mrs Bishop have finally embraced the era of the smart phone.
‘Yeah. Granny and Mrs B,’ Adam says, turning his phone screen towards us to show us a picture of the two older ladies with the famous dog filters on their faces.
‘Dear God,’ Ruairi says, and it’s hard to know if he’s impressed or horrified. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. I decide he might not be able to hear about their TikTok adventures. I’m not sure this is the best time to tell him either – not unless I want him in a hospital bed too.
‘Anyway, Mrs Bishop is fine and she sends her love and says not to be worrying about her. She’s going to the day centre today to help keep her mind off things,’ Adam says.
‘Good for Mrs Bishop,’ I say, relieved not to have to call in with her before I can finally get home and get some much-needed sleep. Now that I have accepted that I need a rest, it has become next to impossible to keep my eyes open.
‘Let’s go,’ I say to Ruairi, and as we make to leave the room, I turn to mouth ‘I love you’ to Conal. Because I do love him so very, very much.
34
SOUP OF THE DAY
Becca
When my phone wakes me, my first feeling is sheer panic. It fades as soon as I see it is my alarm sounding and not Conal or Adam calling to summon me back to the hospital.
I have slept for three hours and my plan now is to get a quick shower, grab a sandwich and head back to the hospital. Three hours isn’t much sleep as things go, but it has been remarkably refreshing, or maybe it’s the relief that my mother has made it through the night that has me feeling relatively upbeat.
As I sit up, Daniel jumps onto the bed, keen to get some much-needed attention. The poor critter was practically crossing his legs by the time Ruairi and I had got home earlier. I had taken him outside and he had done the longest wee I have ever had the misfortune to witness before coming back in, eating a fresh bowl of food in all of two minutes, looking to go back outside for a poo and finally climbing up on my bed and cuddling me until I fell asleep. It didn’t take me long, in fairness.
Now Daniel is pressing his body up against mine and booping my face with his cold, wet nose.
‘I know, pup,’ I soothe. ‘It must’ve been scary for you left here all night, but Granny was sick and I had to be with her.’
Daniel looks at me, his dark brown eyes so expressive that I would almost swear he understands exactly what I’m saying and exactly how emotionally fragile I am right now. ‘I won’t leave you again though,’ I assure him. ‘Well, not overnight anyway. Conal is going to come and take you to see Lazlo.’
At the mention of Lazlo’s name, those ridiculous spaniel ears shoot up and his tail starts to wag furiously. He is easily appeased, I think.
I check my phone for messages. Both Adam and Conal have sent texts telling me Mum is okay. Adam has even sent a picture of my mother, awake but pale and with the traces of her facial weakness all too obvious, trying to smile at the camera. He has written she was awake very briefly but went back to sleep quickly. He told her I was coming back and that I loved her very much, and again I am so grateful for my son.
There’s a message from Saul asking if he should come home for the weekend. He is a little on edge and would love to see his granny. I’m in such an emotional state that I tell him of course he should, and what’s more I’ll pay for his flights.
There is a message from Niamh asking me to update her when I can, and another from Laura sending her love and asking me if there is anything she can do to help.
Both girls have also sent messages to the group chat discussing whether or not they should visit the hospital. Niamh offers to make a lasagne to save me cooking as I run back and forth to see mum. It’s what Niamh does best in a crisis. She feeds people. No sooner has an ambulance been called, or an undertaker summoned, and she is browning mince in a pan andchopping onions. Her lasagne has become such a feature of crises over the years that even the mention of it these days is enough to trigger PTSD.
I have to read Laura’s message a couple of times for it to make sense.
Laura
I have no kitchen, but can definitely send a takeout for you all. The last thing you need to be worrying about at the moment is getting food sorted.
No kitchen? Since when did Laura not have a kitchen? I’m confused. It seems she only sent that message in the last ten minutes, and Niamh must be in class right now because if she wasn’t, there would absolutely be a ‘what are you on about?’ message already.
I’m going to have to take the lead on this.
