‘Well, this is my treat then,’ Jean said, waving away the money. ‘Break a leg, Harri. I bet you’ll score a part.’
Spencer hadn’t set foot inside the Mount Gambier hospital for years, and when the sterile smell assaulted his senses, he felt like turning around and walking straight back out the door.
The only thing that kept his legs moving in the direction of the lift was the news that he had somehow landed top gig as the godfather of Mia and Jeff’s new arrival, Fred.
‘You’d better come up and meet him, mate. He’s got a boofhead on him, but he’ll be a handsome devil when he grows into it,’ Jeff told him when he called with the good news.
Spencer tucked the bouquet of flowers for Mia under one arm and adjusted his grip on the carry bag with Fred’s gift. TheBubs R Usshop assistant had seen him coming a mile away, and he’d been happy to take her pricey recommendation in order to be done with the whole shopping experience and get out of that store, with its rows of breast pumps and hordes of happy couples, as quickly as possible.
He stared at the hospital information board. Two words swam into focus, as if they were three times the size of the others and surrounded by neon flashing lights.
Oncology.
Palliative.
The elevator opened and Spencer stepped aside to let an orderly pass with a patient hooked up to breathing apparatus. He wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt again, nearly dropping the flowers in the process, looking anywhere but at the patient with the wispy hair, too-bright lipstick and sallow complexion.
It was everything Belle had fought to avoid. The elevator returned shortly after and he quickly stepped inside, jabbing at the ‘close door’ button before anyone else could join him.
‘Wait for us!’ He looked up to see Clementine Crossley reaching a hand in between the closing doors.
Her two daughters were right behind her, Indi still carrying the hideous bright-pink stuffed unicorn she’d had in Penwarra yesterday. ‘Anyone would think I’m following you. You’re visiting Jeff and Mia?’
Before Spencer could respond, Indi tugged his hand until he crouched down beside her, and pressed her little face so close that he could see her missing tooth, a smear of what looked like jam on her cheeks and the navy line around her aquamarine irises, just like Clem’s.
‘We’re going to see Reggie and Fred! Are you coming?’
Spencer looked up at Clementine, expecting to see that clucky excitement his sister Addison always got whenever babies were mentioned, but instead her smile was tight.
The lift dinged and the doors reopened, revealing the same busy downstairs foyer, visitors marching in with carry bags, doctors lined up for a caffeine hit at the cafe, and the bustle of a busy hospital pharmacy and information desk.
Had he been too overwhelmed to press the button to go up a floor? It seemed so.
‘It’s like Rundle Mall in here,’ Clem said, studying the labels beside the lift buttons. ‘Onwards and upwards to the maternity ward, right?’
‘Yep, there it is. Level two.’ Spencer pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, suddenly feeling warm. Unlike the beautiful September day outside, it felt stuffy in here all of a sudden, with people rushing past, patients using walking frames or in wheelchairs, and another being wheeled past in a trolley bed. He pressed the button, and as the lift jolted upwards, he realised Clem seemed as uncomfortable as he was.
‘Give me sleepy old Penwarra any day,’ he said. ‘I’ve been meaning to drop by your cafe again. Those pink fairy floss donuts are calling my name, and Ian said your winter pot pie was impeccable.’
He watched Clem’s sneakers trace the patterned lino floor. ‘I’m launching the new spring menu next week. Technically, the winter specials should have finished at the end of August, but no one minds if they run a week or two over.’
‘I’ll have to be quick then,’ he said.
‘I’m going to audition for the concert, Mr H,’ Harriet said, leading the way out of the elevator.
For the first time all day, Spencer felt a spark of delight. ‘For the Penwarra Players?’
Harriet nodded.
‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘We’re always looking for more actors.’ He turned his gaze to Clem. ‘You too?’
So far, he’d mostly avoided looking directly at Clem. It was easier to focus on the cheerful patterns on her scarf or to gaze past her ear, instead of feeling his misfiring brain glitch with false nostalgia at her thick dark hair, sweetheart-shaped face and ocean-coloured eyes, framed by long black lashes.
Like Belle.
But when she didn’t answer, and her daughters dashed ahead to examine a wall filled with photos of babies and new mums, Spencer saw she was frowning at the maternity ward doors. He reached out, brushing her arm gently.
‘You alright?’
