Mendacious (16 page)

“People are staring,” I say, pulling her into the road. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes zero in on my car and she puts up a fight. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m on my way to work, Alex!”

She tries to pull away, but I hold her tighter.

“Pack it in,” I mutter, rounding the car and opening the passenger side door. I spread my arms, one on top of the roof of the car and the other on the door, effectively blocking her in.

“So you aren’t going to shove me in the car? Huh?”

I shrug. “Kidnapping isn’t my thing.”

“I’m not getting in,” Libby says, putting her coffee cup on the roof and folding her arms.

“Stop making things difficult,” I sigh, my shoulders sagging slightly. “I want to talk. I’m sure you’ve got questions, too. I just don’t wanna do this in the middle of the street. Just get in for God’s sake.”

“No.”

My eyes roll toward the sky. “You’re killing me here, Libby. All I’m asking is an hour of your time.”

Her expression softens letting me know I’ve caught her. She lifts her chin, her eyes lighting with defiance. “One hour, Alex,” she replies, snatching her coffee cup and getting in the car.

I wait for her to sit down before I close the door and murmur, “You’ll crack before then.”

Rounding the front of the car, I nod politely at the nosy old woman. “Don’t concern yourself,” I call out before sliding behind the wheel and slamming the door shut.

“Where are we going?” she asks, when the car starts up and I pull off. Her head is turned toward the window and the buildings passing by. It’s almost as if she can’t look at me now we are in such close proximity.

I suppose, the last time she was in my car we were driving to a hotel, so I can understand her being cautious.

But that’s not happening today—no chance.

I’m after answers, and I’m going to get them. One way or another, I’m going to find out what I need to know.

“I’m thinking.”

I catch her taking a sip of her coffee out the corner of my eye. “Thinking about what?” she asks.

“A place to go.”

She taps a finger against her chin and I expect a suggestion, but she doesn’t say anything—at all. She just carries on staring out of the bloody window, and I find myself tightening my fingers around the steering wheel.

The car is filled with tension; an awkward silence that is getting under my skin. My knuckles are turning white from frustration and force of my grip on the wheel. I probably should say something, but I’ve got absolutely nothing.

“Alex, your phone is ringing.” Libby beats me to it by pointing out the obvious vibrations she can hear coming from the confines of my pocket. Clearly, I’m in a different world, because I didn’t even notice.

“Shit,” I curse, leaning over to the touch panel in the centre console. My finger jabs at the screen to accept the call via Bluetooth and my sister’s panicked voice suddenly fills the car.

“A-Alex,” she sobs.

Immediately, I sense something is wrong, and pull off the road so I can park up. Libby turns her head toward the panel when I say, “Alice, what’s wrong?”

Her breaths are staggered and I hear her broken sobs. She struggles to get her words out, and I’m getting more and more concerned. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

She carries on struggling and I can’t make sense of what she’s trying to say. I hear voices in the background, so I ask her to pass the phone onto somebody else, but the next person to greet me is just as tearful.

It’s my mother.

“A-Alex?” I murmur an acknowledgement and listen as she breaks into further sobs. “Y-Your G-Grandmother isn’t w-well.” I can’t understand anything else, but I don’t have to. My heart hammers in my chest, and I know I have to get to them.

“Mum, I’m on my way,” I tell her, not bothering to indicate and pulling out into the traffic. The nursing home is in Coventry, so I decide the motorway is the quickest way to get me there.

I don’t focus on anything while I’m driving. My thoughts are with my family and what I’m about to face.

My driving turns more and more reckless. I can hear horns blaring and people flashing me as I weave between cars, but I honestly couldn’t give a shit.

“Alex.” Libby puts her hand on my shoulder as I speed along the Aston Expressway toward the motorway. “Please remember I’m in the car too,” she murmurs, gently stroking the material of my suit.

I want to resist her touch, but I feel too weak. Instead, I keep my eyes on the road and my mouth shut. She is coming along for the ride because I don’t have time to drop her back. I just hope my family understand when they see her.

“Is Margaret sick?” Libby whispers quietly, dropping her hand into her lap.

I’m itching to respond with some bitter retort, but it’s only going to make the situation worse. “She has been sick for a while,” I mutter, swerving straight into the fast lane on the motorway, and not giving a toss about any fifty miles an hour temporary speed limit I can see flashing on the matrix signs above.

My family will always be my top priority.

~

Things are pretty quiet between Libby and I when I pull into the nursing home. Neither of us has said anything since I told her how sick my grandmother is. She probably feels guilty, but I want to tell her it doesn’t matter. It isn’t her problem to worry about anymore.

She divorced me after all.

Opening the car door and getting out, I hear Libby doing the same, but I’m not looking at her. Instead, my eyes find my mother’s car parked a few spaces down, and I immediately head for the entrance. I don’t linger to ask Libby if she wants to come in or not; I leave her to make her own decision.

Putting my hand on the door handle, I hear her steps following behind. Her presence is a comfort, but I’ll never tell her that.

After passing through the authorisation, we hurry along the winding corridors until I recognise the familiar heartbreaking sobs reverberating off the walls. And surely enough, turning the final corner, I spot Alice sitting on the floor opposite my grandmother’s room. Her legs are scrunched up and she has her face buried in her knees.

“Sweetheart?” I bend down and brush my fingers through her hair. She lifts swollen, tearful eyes at me and I feel a blade dig deep into my chest cavity. “You need to tell me what’s happened. I-Is she dead?” My voice cracks at the end of my sentence and I grip hold of Alice’s knees. “I-Is she dead?” I ask her again, my fingertips pressing into her skin.

Alice shakes her head which brings me instant relief.

“S-Stroke,” she chokes, dropping her eyes back to her legs.

The blade digs deeper as it carves my insides apart. My grandmother has had
another
stroke. We were told the last time she had one that the next could be fatal. The doctor had told us it was a build-up and that Vascular Dementia or even a heart attack was possible if it happened again.

I take a deep steadying breath and stand. Libby shifts from foot to foot a couple of metres away, obviously not sure how to approach me or Alice.

But then she reaches out and takes my hand. Her fingers gently entwining with mine in a show of unity that takes me by surprise. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t have to. The gesture was enough for me. It’s a unity between us. And I’m grateful for her simply pushing the shit aside, even if it’s only for a few moments. Just knowing I have her support is enough to build my courage and push me toward the door.

“I’m here,” she whispers, her voice enveloping and comforting me more than she realises.

Bracing myself, I open my grandmother’s door, and feel the instant heartbreak in the atmosphere. My mother is sat by the side of the bed, her hand holding tightly onto my grandmother, like she can’t bear to let her go. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks stained from her tears. She turns in my direction at the sound of the door opening, and the valve of emotion bursts forth once again.

“How is she?” I say, letting go of Libby’s hand and taking my place on the other side of my grandmother’s bed. I pull the covers up on my side and lean across placing a kiss on her forehead.

“She keeps drifting in and out of consciousness,” my mother tells me. “Her speech has deteriorated and the doctors are worried she could have another stroke. But thankfully, her body still appears mobile. She was moving her arm earlier.”

“Can’t they just move her to a private hospital?” I ask, my eyes glued to my grandmother’s face, watching her closed eyelids flicker in a dreamlike state.

“This is the best place for her, Alex. The doctors and nurses know what they are doing. I wouldn’t want her in a private hospital with unfamiliar surroundings and—” Mum pauses when she spots Libby standing near the door. She blinks multiple times and turns to me questioningly. “A-Alex?” she stammers.

I shake my head. “Long story, mum, but I’m glad she’s here. Goopie has asked to see her every time I’ve visited, so I hope she opens her eyes at least once to see her.”

Mum nods, but I hear Libby gasp softly. She puts her hand to her chest. “She’s asked for me?”

As if hearing her voice, my grandmother’s eyes flicker open and I see her squeeze my mother’s hand.

“Hey, Goopie,” I smile, reaching to clasp the other. “I hear you’ve been causing trouble again.”

Libby steps forward and puts on a bright smile. “Hello, Margaret. It has been a long time, hey?” Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she moves to stand beside me.

Despite the stroke, I see my grandmother force a crooked smile. She loosens her grip on my hand and reaches for Libby, splaying her palm across the front of her stomach, as if to symbolise the great-grandchild she wants.

I’m not going to lie, it is probably the most uncomfortable moment I’ve encountered since our divorce, and I know Libby must feel it to. But being the good sport she is, Libby covers my grandmother’s hand with her own and nods, silent tears trickling down her cheeks.

The moment is short-lived however, when my grandmother’s eyes start to close, and her hand falls against the covers of the bed.

“She is losing consciousness quicker than earlier. She can barely keep her eyes open now.” My mother’s voice turns frantic, her eyes widening with horror. “She’s dying, Alex!”

Before I can get out of my seat, Libby has her arms wrapped around my mother’s shoulder while she sobs. “Do you want to get some fresh air?” she suggests.

“Please,” I say when she tries to refuse. “It’s not good for you to be in here. You will feel better if you go and take a breather. Alice can come and sit with me.”

I nod gratefully at Libby when she takes my mum out of the room and sends my sister in. Alice drags the chair from the opposite side of the bed and pulls it beside me. She sniffles the entire time and I can’t help but put my arm around her.

“I’m here for you,” I murmur against her hair.

“I know.”

It absolutely kills me to see my family this upset. Shit. It kills me to see my grandmother lying here in this state. There has to be something that can be done. There just has to.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, standing up and heading outside to try and catch a doctor or nurse or anyone wandering the hall.

And I’m in luck. A nurse wanders by as I open the door and she stops to talk to me with a sad smile. “Margaret’s family?” she asks, nodding at the door.

“Grandson. Listen, I wanted to ask about what’s going on with my grandmother. My mum and sister are a bit upset, so they haven’t explained things to me. Is there a doctor or somebody I can speak to?”

“I can help you. Do you want to follow—”

An earsplitting screech followed by a loud bleeping monitor causes me to flinch. Before I can even react, the nurse bolts past me and into my grandmother’s room. She flattens the bed and presses a bell above the headboard to call the doctor.

“S-She isn’t breathing anymore,” Alice cries, her hand covering her mouth. “I don’t want her to die. Please don’t let her die!”

Grabbing hold of Alice’s elbow, I drag her from the room to let the now arriving doctors chance to do something. But I have a feeling it’s too late. The machine’s bleep is continuously flat, indicating there is no longer a heartbeat.

The doctor stands beside my grandmother and checks his watch. He mutters something at the nurse who I was speaking to earlier and she nods her head.

“Time of death ...”

Just hearing those words is enough for me. My head starts to spin and I shut out everything in a blind panic.

I ignore the nurse who is leaning me against the wall and trying to get me to put my head between my legs.

I ignore the screams and cries from my little sister beside me. I ignore her voice, her words, even her fists when she hits them against my chest in frustration and denial.

But I’m empty.

Vacant.

Then I hear my mother running along the corridor. I try and shut her out too, but I’m struggling. The nurses are holding her up because her knees have given way. They lead her to a nearby office and take Alice with them too, but I don’t move. I stay where I am. My body fixed against the wall. My eyes are staring straight into my grandmother’s room until the nurse pats my shoulder and closes the door over. She tells me I can go in or I can sit with my mum and sister in the office.