it’s not forever.’
‘It’d better bloody not be.’
‘And you’d better be at the party, okay?’
Hannah skipped up, her fairy wings iridescent in the candlelight. ‘Why are you crying, sillies?’ She observed me steadily. ‘You look like a panda, Auntie Maggie. Like what I saw in the zoo when Johnno took me. The fat one that was scratching her bottom.’ She slipped her hand in mine. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m not. I’m laughing. I never cry.’
‘Why’s water coming out of your eyes then?’
‘Oh, Hannah.’ I picked her up and gave her a squeeze. She smelled of biscuits and fresh laundry. ‘You don’t half ask a lot of questions for someone so small.’
Then I went home to my father’s house, alone. The phone was ringing as I unlocked the door, but by the time I reached it they’d rung off. And as my dad had gone to collect his girlfriend Jenny from the airport, I opened a bottle from his trusty Wine Club collection and drank myself to sleep.
Chapter Seven
BEFORE: JUNE
I had dreamed that I was dying, such a very vivid dream. When I woke, I wasn’t absolutely sure I hadn’t. A huge weight squatted on my stomach, face pulled back in a rictus grin, gurning down at me until, panicking, I pushed up through its mass. Rearing from the bed, my arms flailed like a sprinter’s tangled in the finish line; a great sob of terror scraping through my chest.
I wasn’t dead, apparently. Not unless heaven was an ice-cream-coloured curtain drawn round a narrow bed, or a glimpse of rain through a small window in a quietly rumbling room. A room that was grey and regular. A dormitory. A ward. Not unless the woman in blue with smiley eyes who stepped neatly to my side was some bizarre kind of angel in a nurse’s uniform.
‘You haven’t got a halo.’ I blinked at the nurse. ‘Have you?’
The woman leaned forward to hear me properly, but my voice was apparently stuck in my sore and tired throat. I tried to smile instead, but smiling seemed to hurt me even more. Tentatively I brought my hand up to touch my own face, my hand that felt freezing.
‘Your lip’s been stitched.’
She caught my hand and moved it gently down. The nurse’s skin was beautiful, dark and creamy like a pint of newly pulledGuinness. I had the impulse to stroke her arm, but before I could she tucked my hand beneath the sheet. And I winced at the touch. My body ached; I was realising slowly that every part of me was tender, every part felt bruised and sore.
‘Only a few stitches, though.’
I thought the nurse might have said something next about being right as rain in no time, right as the rain I could see falling in vertical lines through that little window. Rain was never really right, though, was it, not unless you gardened like my father and – I had a revelation.
‘Have I gone mad?’ I enquired politely. ‘Is this the loony bin?’ This time the nurse caught my words.
‘Not mad, no, Maggie. You’ve had an accident. You’re in hospital.’
‘Accident?’
‘Just slip your sleeve up so I can take your blood pressure. Can you tell me how you feel now?’ she asked me kindly, but actually I couldn’t, because I didn’t know. I gazed at her blankly. Well, I did know I felt calm. Calm, but sort of bewildered.
‘You’re in shock, dear. And the doctor’s given you something to monitor the pain.’ The nurse tightened the band round my arm until it pinched. ‘Morphine.’
‘Ouch. I can’t seem to –’ I gazed at the nurse again. ‘I can’t think what happened. It’s funny, though. Was there –’ I stopped again.
‘What?’ the nurse prompted. ‘What do you think, Maggie?’
‘I keep thinking about a horse. Did I – did I fall off a horse?’ But I didn’t remember being on a horse yesterday. I could vaguely remember a riding lesson from years ago, somewhere in the countryside; remembered my mother waving gaily from the gate of the school. It must have been a long time ago. I remembered
‘It’d better bloody not be.’
‘And you’d better be at the party, okay?’
Hannah skipped up, her fairy wings iridescent in the candlelight. ‘Why are you crying, sillies?’ She observed me steadily. ‘You look like a panda, Auntie Maggie. Like what I saw in the zoo when Johnno took me. The fat one that was scratching her bottom.’ She slipped her hand in mine. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m not. I’m laughing. I never cry.’
‘Why’s water coming out of your eyes then?’
‘Oh, Hannah.’ I picked her up and gave her a squeeze. She smelled of biscuits and fresh laundry. ‘You don’t half ask a lot of questions for someone so small.’
Then I went home to my father’s house, alone. The phone was ringing as I unlocked the door, but by the time I reached it they’d rung off. And as my dad had gone to collect his girlfriend Jenny from the airport, I opened a bottle from his trusty Wine Club collection and drank myself to sleep.
Chapter Seven
BEFORE: JUNE
I had dreamed that I was dying, such a very vivid dream. When I woke, I wasn’t absolutely sure I hadn’t. A huge weight squatted on my stomach, face pulled back in a rictus grin, gurning down at me until, panicking, I pushed up through its mass. Rearing from the bed, my arms flailed like a sprinter’s tangled in the finish line; a great sob of terror scraping through my chest.
I wasn’t dead, apparently. Not unless heaven was an ice-cream-coloured curtain drawn round a narrow bed, or a glimpse of rain through a small window in a quietly rumbling room. A room that was grey and regular. A dormitory. A ward. Not unless the woman in blue with smiley eyes who stepped neatly to my side was some bizarre kind of angel in a nurse’s uniform.
‘You haven’t got a halo.’ I blinked at the nurse. ‘Have you?’
The woman leaned forward to hear me properly, but my voice was apparently stuck in my sore and tired throat. I tried to smile instead, but smiling seemed to hurt me even more. Tentatively I brought my hand up to touch my own face, my hand that felt freezing.
‘Your lip’s been stitched.’
She caught my hand and moved it gently down. The nurse’s skin was beautiful, dark and creamy like a pint of newly pulledGuinness. I had the impulse to stroke her arm, but before I could she tucked my hand beneath the sheet. And I winced at the touch. My body ached; I was realising slowly that every part of me was tender, every part felt bruised and sore.
‘Only a few stitches, though.’
I thought the nurse might have said something next about being right as rain in no time, right as the rain I could see falling in vertical lines through that little window. Rain was never really right, though, was it, not unless you gardened like my father and – I had a revelation.
‘Have I gone mad?’ I enquired politely. ‘Is this the loony bin?’ This time the nurse caught my words.
‘Not mad, no, Maggie. You’ve had an accident. You’re in hospital.’
‘Accident?’
‘Just slip your sleeve up so I can take your blood pressure. Can you tell me how you feel now?’ she asked me kindly, but actually I couldn’t, because I didn’t know. I gazed at her blankly. Well, I did know I felt calm. Calm, but sort of bewildered.
‘You’re in shock, dear. And the doctor’s given you something to monitor the pain.’ The nurse tightened the band round my arm until it pinched. ‘Morphine.’
‘Ouch. I can’t seem to –’ I gazed at the nurse again. ‘I can’t think what happened. It’s funny, though. Was there –’ I stopped again.
‘What?’ the nurse prompted. ‘What do you think, Maggie?’
‘I keep thinking about a horse. Did I – did I fall off a horse?’ But I didn’t remember being on a horse yesterday. I could vaguely remember a riding lesson from years ago, somewhere in the countryside; remembered my mother waving gaily from the gate of the school. It must have been a long time ago. I remembered
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