‘Beatrice? It’s Deb Sutherland. Janice’s daughter,’ she said, slightly out of breath as she was walking as fast as she could up the single track road that led from the end of Loch Cameron high street up to Queen’s Point. She was lugging several bags of shopping.
‘Oh, hello, dear.’ Beatrice sounded as cheery as usual. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m all right, but Mum’s had a fall. She says she’s broken her ankle.’ Deb huffed as she climbed the track, feeling the burn in her legs. She hadn’t returned to her usual level of fitness yet after the operation, and as well as this making her out of breath, she could feel the soreness in her abdomen. She wanted to stop, but she was in a rush, and panic was driving her.
‘Oh, lord! Why didn’t she call me herself?’ Beatrice cried. ‘I’ll go round now, dear. Are you coming?’
‘I’m going to drive over, but it’s going to take hours. I’ve called an ambulance. Can you be there and help her, say I’m on my way?’ Deb felt her voice begin to crack. She suddenly felt powerless, being so far away and not being able to help.
‘Of course! Poor Janice!’
‘I know. I think she was too proud to call you,’ Deb sighed, out of breath as she reached Queens Point. ‘I’m coming now. I’m literally going to jump in the car now.’
‘All right, dear. You take care, and I’ll call you back on your mobile and let you know what’s happening. Okay?’ Deb knew that Beatrice was probably just as worried as she was, but she appreciated someone caring about her feelings enough to try and reassure her too. Tears choked Deb’s throat at the kindness, but she swallowed them. She didn’t have time for emotions right now.
‘All right. Thanks, Beatrice. Thank you so much.’
Deb reached the cottage, dumped the bags of groceries in the kitchen, not even bothering to put anything away, grabbed a bottle of water and a banana for the drive and ran out to her car, pulling the cottage door shut behind her. Her heart was hammering.
Oh, god, please be all right, Mum, Deb prayed as she started the car and drove down the lane, onto the high street and out of Loch Cameron.Please.
TWENTY-THREE
The hospital smelt like all hospitals: antiseptic, vomit and despair. At least, that was how it smelt to Deb, who had always hated them.Who liked hospitals?she wondered, as she walked down one long corridor after another, looking for the ward that Beatrice had texted her the details of an hour earlier. Probably, if you worked in one, you got used to them, at least.
In fact, it had taken her five hours to reach the hospital in Glasgow – two hours longer than she’d expected, due to part of the motorway around Glasgow being closed. It had meant an excruciating detour, and at least an hour of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Deb had sobbed in frustration, desperate to get to Janice, but feeling that everything that could go wrongwasgoing wrong. While driving and when stuck in traffic, she’d been checking her phone constantly for updates from Beatrice, and then, repeatedly calling the hospital, trying in vain to find out where her mum was. Her phone was dying, and she’d been in such a rush leaving the cottage that she hadn’t picked up a charger for the car.
When she had finally pulled up to the hospital, she saw that her phone was on ten per cent battery, which just about summed up how she felt, too. She saw that she had a text and opened it,thinking that it was from Beatrice, hopefully telling her where to go when she got inside, but it was from Hal.
Deb – hope you’re well. Sorry for my brief email about your family discovery the other day. I have now responded properly via email but you haven’t responded, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. Do drop me a line or give me a call if you’d like to. Hal.
Deb stared at her phone for a moment. Of all times,thiswas when Hal chose to respond? She didn’t have time to look at her emails right now, and her phone was about to die, anyway. She swore under her breath, then put her phone in her bag. She’d have to read Hal’s email later.
‘Mum!’ After asking at the hospital reception and jogging up and down various long corridors and stairwells, Deb finally burst into the small room, finding a whey-faced Janice in bed with her leg in plaster and hooked up to a dialysis machine. Beatrice sat in a chair next to the bed, drinking a cup of tea.
‘Oh, darling. You shouldn’t have come,’ Janice said as Deb buried her face in her mother’s neck. ‘I’m all right.’
‘You’re not all right!’ Deb started crying again. All the tension of the drive over, being desperate to be with her mother and not being able to, worrying about her, imagining the worst, imagining how much pain Janice was in and how scared she must be – it all spilled out of her now, as she hugged her mother. ‘I was so worried!’ Her throat was so constricted with worry and tension that she could hardly get the words out.
‘You shouldn’t worry about me.’ Janice gave her daughter a brief hug, and then pushed her away. ‘Beatrice looked after me.’
‘You’ve broken your ankle, and you’re on dialysis. And you called me andasked me to come,’ Deb said, angrily. She knew she shouldn’t be angry with Janice, but after her horrendousjourney and all the worry, her mother’s typical push back– I’m all right, I don’t need help, I’m independent– hurt.
Deb had no doubt that Janice was only ever acting out of love. She knew that her mother really believed that the best thing she could do for her daughter wasnot to be a burden, as she saw it. But she had never understood that every time she refused Deb’s help, it felt like a slap in the face. It felt as though she was refusing her daughter’s love.
That was how it felt now. Deb felt as though – on top of the worry and the panic – she had been punched in the chest by Janice’s refusal of her love and her concern.
‘Oh, I was in a bit of a state. I shouldn’t have called you, but I wasn’t thinking straight,’ Janice sighed. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, sweetheart.’
‘Well, it’s not wasted, is it? You’re lying in a hospital bed looking like death warmed up,’ Deb argued. ‘What kind of daughter would I be if I refused to come when you needed me?’
‘Well, the ambulance people were very good. Got to me very quickly. Beatrice let herself in and she even made us all a cup of tea. I must say I felt better after that, and after they gave me some pain relief. So, you see. All fine.’
‘Beatrice? Could you give us a minute?’ Deb turned to her mother’s elderly neighbour, who had been tactfully staying out of the conversation. ‘I’d like to have a private word with Mum.’
‘Of course, my pet.’ Beatrice got up from the chair and took off her reading glasses, letting them hang on a chain around her neck. ‘I’ll pop down to the café and get us some tea.’
‘Thank you. And thanks for everything today. I’m so grateful for your help,’ Deb said, hoping that Janice had had the presence of mind and the politeness to thank Beatrice also; however, she doubted that she had. She wanted to turn to her mother and say,this is how we thank people when they help us, like she wastalking to a child. But, she didn’t, knowing that Janice wouldn’t take kindly to being talked to like that by her daughter.
