Page 64 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 42

Sarah

My name was being called, somewhere on the periphery of my dream. I tried to resist the voice: such was my exhaustion. I just wanted to be left to sleep.

‘Sarah,’ the voice called again, more insistently this time.

My eyes flickered open, and I saw Greg’s concerned face in front of me. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was hallucinating. Ciara had given me strong painkillers – perhaps they were having a bad effect on me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he began. ‘I got here as fast as I could.’ He was breathless and sweat glistened on his brow.

‘Greg?’ I tried to sit up in bed, but pain shot through me. ‘You’re alive?’

‘Of course I am. I’m so sorry for causing you to worry—’

‘But you were unconscious – the helicopter – how are you here?’

‘What are you talking about?’ He looked puzzled.

‘When I was being flown to the hospital, I heard them on the radio talking about another casualty – a man who had been hit by a falling tree in Inishbeg Cove. I thought it was you.’

‘I think there’s been a mix-up,’ Greg said, shaking his head.

‘But where were you, then?’

He instantly looked sheepish. ‘Well, I went to check on Mrs Manning like planned, and I was on my way back to you when I met Ruairí on his way to help some of the villagers at the parish hall. Part of the roof had blown off and they were trying to put on a tarpaulin to stop the rest of it being ripped off by another gust. I was giving them a hand. I thought we’d be done in half an hour, but the wind made it impossible to secure. If I had known you’d go into labour, I never would have gone.’ He hung his head. ‘When Maureen and Jim found me, I tried to get here as soon as I could. They told me the helicopter had only left twenty minutes before so I thought, if I was quick, I might make it before you gave birth, but I underestimated the storm.’ He shook his head. ‘All the approach roads to the village were flooded, so I couldn’t drive. Ruairí managed to find me a boat, and I had to row out of the village until I came to higher ground. Then I had to walk along the roads trying to hitch a lift but, as you can imagine, there wasn’t much traffic out on a night like this. Eventually I saw a Garda car, and when I told them what had happened, they blue-lighted me all the way to Limerick. I’m sorry, Sarah. I’ve let you down. The biggest moment of both our lives, and I wasn’t there for you.’

‘I’m just so happy you’re alive. I thought I was going to be raising our daughters on my own.’ I sobbed from sheer relief.

‘We had two girls?’ His face lit up.

I had forgotten that all this would be news for him. ‘We did ... oh, Greg, you should see them! They were so tiny but perfect. They’ve masses of dark hair, like you.’

‘Are they okay?’

I shook my head. ‘Nobody will tell me. They’re very premature, of course. They said they’d let me know as soon as they were stable, but I haven’t heard anything since they went to NICU.’

‘Well, let’s hope they take after their amazing mom.’ He reached out and kissed me. ‘How are you feeling?’

He had used the word ‘mom’, and I suddenly realised that I was now a mother. ‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a train, to be honest, but I’m so glad you’re here. I had all kinds of terrible thoughts running through my mind. I thought you were dead, and the midwives were afraid to tell me!’

‘Oh, Sarah, what you must have gone through all on your own…’ He shook his head and I guessed he was having a hard time reconciling the events that had taken place that evening.

‘You were doing a good thing and, look, our babies are here now. Let’s just hope they’ll get through it. They’re so early, Greg,’ I said worriedly.

The midwife, Ciara, entered the room pushing a wheelchair and did a double take when her eyes landed on Greg.

‘Ciara,’ I said by way of introduction. ‘This is Greg, my husband.’

‘You’re looking remarkably healthy for a man who was knocked unconscious by a falling tree, requiring airlifting to hospital just a few hours ago,’ she said, a wry smile playing on the corners of her mouth.

‘It was a case of mistaken identity.’ Greg laughed and we filled her in on the story. Suddenly I felt guilt shiver through me. I had been too busy celebrating the fact that it wasn’t Greg who had been injured to give much thought to the person who had actually been involved. It was somebody else from the village – and, in a place the size of Inishbeg Cove, we would certainly know them. Some other poor family would be getting the phone call that no one wanted to receive.

‘I have some good news for you both. I’ve just had a phone call from NICU. Your babies are settled and are currently stable. I can bring you up to meet them, if you want?’

Greg’s immediately jumped off the bed.

‘I thought you might react like that.’ She laughed.

I moved more gingerly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, easing myself into the wheelchair but I was no less desperate to see our babies.