‘Family only beyond this point.’
Family.
Not me, the woman who rocked her to sleep when she had colic; who stood clapping the loudest when she delivered her one line for class assembly that I’d helped her practise… Family only. My stomach twists.
I swallow, mouth opening.
‘She’s in the best hands. We’ll take her to the resuscitation bay, but you can go into the waiting area.’
‘But I—’ I stammer, but he’s already following the paramedics, the door hissing closed behind him.
I try Spence again, then follow the sign pointing to A&E, finding a seat. The room is packed. Filled with coughs, mumbles, over-warm, over-filled, overwhelming.
The blue plastic seat is uncomfortable beneath me, but I barely register it. Time ticks on, my mind replaying everythingover again. Did I deliver the whole dose? Did I get to her on time?
The glass door whooshes open and Spence rushes in, hair on end, eyes frantically searching the room. It only takes moments and I’m in his arms. He pulls back, hands on the top of my arms, eyes searching mine.
‘Is she OK? Where is she?’
‘She’s… I gave her a shot, but she… They wouldn’t let me in. Heather is with her.’ Spence grabs my hand, ignores the calls of annoyance as he walks to the front of the glass screen, explaining.
The nurse behind the glass presses the door release button. ‘It’s family only,’ he says.
‘She is family,’ Spence snaps, tightening his grip on my hand as we walk through.
50
SPENCE
Georgia is sleeping. Dark shadows beneath her eyelashes, her cheeks flushed. Alice is sitting opposite, next to the bed. Heather has stepped out to get us all a drink.
Beside my daughter, the monitor beeps, numbers flashing. My eyes keep catching them as her levels stay stable. I’m holding her hand, still small, even though they’re starting to look more like a woman’s rather than the chubby hand that held mine when crossing the road. Long fingers, her blue nail polish with silver stars at the tips.
‘Thank God you were there,’ I say, eyes still on Georgia.
‘It wasn’t her fault; the ingredients weren’t clear. It’s only because she had a reaction to that vegan chocolate when she was seven that I even thought of it.’
‘I shouldn’t have left her.’
‘Don’t be daft. You can’t be by her side 24-7.’
‘Still, when I think about what could have happened?—’
‘But it didn’t.’ She meets my eyes, and I think of all the things I’ve said in that letter, Alice looks at me as though she knows already. ‘Spence, there are things that need to be said, I?—’
The sound of the curtain sliding back interrupts. Heather comes back in, all the things left unsaid, well, are left unsaid. She looks worse than all of us. Eyes red-rimmed, nails raw around the edges as she grips a bottle of water. I take one with a thanks.
Her hand rests on my shoulder. ‘Any change?’
I shake my head. ‘She just needs to rest now.’
Alice moves her chair back quietly, leans in and kisses Georgia on the cheek, brushing a lock of hair away. ‘I’ll get going. Keep me posted?’
I nod.
Alice hesitates by the curtain, her eyes on Heather, then me.
‘Alice?’ Heather steps forward. ‘Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done…’ She pulls Alice into a hug. I return my attention to Georgia.
