Three Amazing Things About You (32 page)

Truthfully, she didn’t know what she would have done without Joe. His support meant so much. Her mother was always there at the end of the phone, but the many animals she cared for at her home in France, with no one else available to look after them in her absence, meant she was unable to fly over to be with her during this horrible time.

And here was Joe now, being buzzed into the ward, washing his hands in the sink next to the entrance, then drying them and cleaning them again with a squirt of alcohol gel. There were whole new routines to learn in a hospital, that seemed weird to begin with but within days became unthinking second nature. You didn’t take any chances when one slip could be fatal.

Then Joe was giving her a brief hug and Tasha breathed in the clean outdoors smell of him.

‘How’s he doing?’

‘I don’t know. Same, I think. Sometimes the heart thing gets more irregular.’ She pointed to the electronic readout on the machine opposite them. ‘They’re waiting for more test results before they decide what to do next.’

Joe nodded and clasped his big hand around Rory’s wrist. ‘Hey, it’s me. I’m here with Tash. Are you awake?’

After a couple of seconds Rory nodded, just slightly.

‘You OK?’ Joe kept his gaze fixed on his friend’s face.

They waited, then Rory licked his lips and whispered, ‘Never better.’

‘You’ll be out of here soon. I’m going to take you heli-skiing,’ said Joe. But this time there was no response; Rory had drifted off once more.

In all the times she’d seen the two of them together, the laughter and joking around had been virtually non-stop. Now it was absent. Joe had never looked more serious. Tasha watched the muscles tighten in his jaw as he stroked Rory’s forearm with the backs of his fingers, silently letting him know he was still there.

‘Have you eaten anything?’ said Joe.

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘You really should, you know.’

‘I can’t. Not at the moment.’ The irony of having jokily vowed to diet in order to make the engagement ring fit wasn’t lost on her. She’d lost eight pounds since then, through sheer panic and inability to swallow food. For now, she was existing on coffee from the vending machine outside the unit.

‘You need to keep your strength up.’

Tasha shrugged helplessly.
What strength?

‘He’s right.’ The nurse was back to do Rory’s observations. ‘You need to eat. Keeling over in a heap isn’t going to help anyone.’

‘Come on,’ said Joe. ‘I’m taking you to the café.’ He reached for Tasha’s hand and stood up. ‘We’ll be back in half an hour.’

‘Good idea.’ The nurse, who was probably sick of the sight of her, beamed encouragingly. ‘You do that.’

‘What’s going to happen to him? Is he going to start getting better soon?’

‘I don’t know the answer to that,’ said Joe. ‘Nobody knows the answer.’

‘Oh God.’ They sat facing each other across the orange Formica-topped table in the hospital cafeteria. Tasha picked up a chip, dipped it into mayonnaise and attempted to summon the enthusiasm to eat it.

‘Are you sleeping?’

‘Not really. I wish I could just . . . take out my batteries and wake up twelve hours later.’

Joe said, ‘You could ask for a couple of pills to help you with that.’

‘But I don’t want to miss anything important. What if something happened while I was asleep?’

He nodded to show he understood. ‘I know. Same. You’re being very strong, though.’

‘I don’t feel strong.’

‘You’re doing so well.’ He paused. ‘I haven’t seen you cry yet.’

Tasha shook her head. It simply hadn’t happened, not even when she was at home. All her efforts were taken up with concentrating on getting Rory well again. Breaking down in tears might detract from that.

Besides, she had to be there for him. Stay strong.

‘I’m not much of a one for the soppy comments,’ said Joe, ‘but he loves you so much. He really does.’

Tasha nodded. ‘I know. I love him too.’

‘Are you going to eat any more of these?’ Joe nudged the plate towards her.

It was the last thing she wanted to do. But he was right: Rory needed her and she in turn needed – somehow – to keep on going. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she braced herself and picked up another chip. It didn’t matter that they didn’t taste great. She looked at Joe. ‘Oh yes. I’m going to eat them all.’

Returning to the unit, they found Mel there, sitting beside Rory’s bed. She jumped up and met them at the entrance. Since the staff preferred there to be no more than two visitors at any one time, Joe said, ‘I’ll head off and come back later.’

‘No, don’t. The consultant just called the ward to ask if we were all here. He wants us to wait and he’ll see us as soon as he arrives. They’re expecting him at around five o’clock.’

‘Why does he want to talk to us?’ said Joe.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Is it good news or bad news?’ The moment she’d uttered the question, Tasha wished she hadn’t. She felt a surge of nausea.

‘Oh darling, I don’t know.’ Mel’s face was drawn with worry. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’

For the next hour Tasha talked to Rory, holding his hand, trying to persuade herself that he was looking better.

Except he wasn’t, she knew he wasn’t. Just as she knew that the consultant cardiologist was unlikely to have phoned ahead and asked the three of them to wait so he could personally inform them Rory had turned a corner and was on the mend.

Basically, there had to be a perk to the job, but she doubted it was that.

The clock on the wall, typically, had slowed right down now. Five o’clock came and went, each minute passing with interminable slowness. Was it her imagination, or were the nursing staff avoiding her gaze? Did they know more than they were letting on?

Oh God,
oh God
.

At five forty-three, the consultant swept into the unit and Tasha’s knees began to judder with fear. She pressed them together and straightened her spine. Surely whatever it was he had to say couldn’t be too bad, could it?

‘Hello, hello, so sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic was awful.’ Dr White had kind eyes, a long bumpy nose and an air of calm authority about him. He shook hands with each of them in turn. ‘We have the latest test results in and I’d like to discuss the situation with you.’ Glancing over at Rory, whose eyes were closed but who could still be listening, he beckoned to them. ‘If you’ll follow me, we can talk about it in the office.’

‘I just can’t believe it,’ said Carmel two hours later, back at Tasha’s flat. ‘I mean, Rory. Of
all
people.’

‘I know.’ Dr White and the nurses had insisted she leave the hospital and come home to get some sleep. Tasha couldn’t imagine sleeping, but she’d known they were right. As with the eating, she had to keep herself as healthy as possible in order to support Rory.

She’d let Joe drive her back here, and Carmel had arrived shortly afterwards. If Rory’s condition altered during the night, the staff had promised to phone straight away and let them know.

It felt odd, being at home. Then again, everything felt odd; normality had ceased to exist. Tasha counted the ways:

There was a glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of her and she had no desire to touch it.

She’d just received a text begging her to fly to Barcelona to work on a video shoot starring one of the world’s most mega-successful female singers and had turned the job down without a second thought.

Oh, and Rory’s heart was failing. His other organs were starting to shut down. His condition had deteriorated to such an extent that he was now on the list for a heart transplant.

Really and truly.
An actual heart transplant.

Most horrifying of all, this was actually the best-case scenario. Because if he didn’t get a heart transplant, he would die.

‘You’re not going to drink this wine, are you?’ Carmel picked up the glass to take it back out to the kitchen. Evidently desperate to help, she said, ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.’

I want a new heart for Rory.

But they already knew that, and saying it wouldn’t help anyone. Tasha forced herself to consider the realistic options. ‘I think there’s a tin of custard in the top cupboard. Could I have some of that?’ She was almost certain she could manage a small bowl of custard.

Carmel nodded. ‘Cold or warm?’

‘Warm. Please.’ She’d loved tinned custard as a child, had never tired of it.

‘Joe? Anything for you?’

He shook his head. ‘No thanks, I’m OK.’

Watching them reminded Tasha of the first night Joe and Carmel had met, of the way they’d taunted and teased each other. The next moment, with vivid clarity, she remembered Joe assuring a suspicious Carmel that Rory wasn’t a player, that he was genuinely smitten with Tasha. Whereupon Carmel, defending her oldest friend, had warned him, ‘If he gives her any grief, he’ll have me to answer to.’

And Rory, with his arms around Tasha and his breath warm against the side of her face, had murmured in her ear, ‘I wasn’t planning on giving you any grief.’

Which had made her shiver with delight.

Except he hadn’t stuck to that plan, had he? This was more grief than she’d ever expected.

Tasha silently marvelled at the vicissitudes of fate. After all these years of expecting the worst to happen, now it
had
.

And since crumbling wasn’t an option, all she could do was face it head on and deal with the situation as best she could.

‘This must be what it’s like being famous,’ said Zander out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Everywhere I look, people are staring at me. I feel like Brad Pitt.’

Flo grinned, because it was true: he was definitely the centre of attention here today. And when old people were interested in someone, they didn’t bother making any secret of it.

‘They’ve been waiting months for this, ever since they first heard about you. Sorry they aren’t being terribly discreet.’

‘It’s OK. You did warn me.’

‘They don’t get out much. And they do love to gossip. You’re big news.’

‘Afternoon, Flo. So is this the boyfriend?’ Eunice Allsopp came up behind Zander and attracted his attention by prodding him in the back with the end of her ebony walking stick. ‘Come on then, let’s have a look at you.’

With good grace, Zander waited while Eunice chose the correct spectacles from the selection strung around her neck. Putting them on, she peered suspiciously at his face. ‘Are you wearing mascara, young man?’

‘No.’ Zander’s mouth twitched. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Hmm.’ Clearly not convinced, Eunice looked over the top of her spectacles at Flo. ‘Is he gay?’

‘He isn’t gay,’ said Flo. ‘He’s my boyfriend.’

‘So? He still could be. One of my husbands was gay. Lovely chap,’ said Eunice. ‘We got on very well together. It has its advantages, too. He didn’t
bother
me all the time, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do.’ Zander nodded gravely. ‘But I’m still not gay.’

‘Oh look,’ said Flo, before Eunice could launch into a full-blown interrogation, ‘there’s Margot, I promised to introduce you to her. She’s dying to meet you!’

Nairn House always held a huge and impressive summer fair in order to entertain the current residents and hopefully attract future ones. It was advertised widely and all sorts of entertainment was provided throughout the day. Luckily the weather for this year’s fair was perfect, drawing even more visitors than usual. The stalls were busy, the grounds were immaculate, the pink and white striped tea tent was bursting with customers and a ballroom dancing display was proving popular, the visiting troupe currently enthralling their audience with a racy tango.

‘Hello, darling,’ said Margot when Flo and Zander caught up with her at the jewellery stall. ‘And hello
you
.’ She eyed Zander with interest. ‘If you haven’t already heard the old dears gossiping about you, the general consensus is that you’re quite the dish.’

‘Thank you,’ said Zander, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘So are you.’

Was there anything nicer than observing two people you liked being introduced and instantly getting on well together? Secretly glowing with pride and satisfaction, Flo examined the jewellery laid out on the velvet-covered trestle tables and listened to Zander and Margot chatting easily to each other. She was distracted for a few minutes by one of the residents asking for help with a bracelet clasp. When she turned back to Flo and Zander, she saw them waiting for her.

‘Right, we’re having a competition to see which of us knows you best.’ Margot indicated the table beside her. ‘We’ve each chosen the necklace we think you’d prefer. Now you have to decide.’

‘OK. And which one did you choose?’

Margot shook her head. ‘Come on, I’m not going to tell you that.’

‘So I’m going to end up offending one of you.’

‘You won’t,’ said Zander, ‘because we’re grown-ups.’ He nodded at the necklaces. ‘Go on, choose.’

The one on the left was composed of midnight-blue and silver stones, a double strand that caught the light and swung elegantly from her hand. Flo put it back down and picked up the one on the right, shorter and rounder in shape, made up of clusters of tiny seed pearls interspersed with white glass beads.

‘OK, I love them both. But I love this one more.’

‘Ha!’ Margot clapped her hands. ‘Good!’

‘I chose yours?’

‘No, mine was the blue one. I’m glad you prefer Zander’s.’ Her eyes bright, Margot said, ‘Shows he knows what he’s doing, proves he’s the right man for you. Now, what’s that stall over there? Is it Splat the Rat? Excellent!’

For the next hour they toured the plant, cake and bric-a-brac stalls, and watched small children on the old-fashioned roundabout and older ones throwing themselves around the bouncy castle. A steel band played calypso music, a girl sang Celine Dion songs, a juggler juggled with vegetables, then a street-dance troupe put on a break-dancing display. Zander won a coconut on the coconut shy. They drank rum punch and ate home-made cakes. ‘Whoops,’ said Flo in an undertone as two people, one young and one old, made their way past them.