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“I know, I know,” he tuts, “I really didn’t want to leave him but I had no choice. That’s why I called you. I shouldn’t have really but I was desperate. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I didn’t know you were away, of course, and I’m sorry if I spoilt your holiday.” I tell him that he didn’t, that I only found out on the last day, anyway, although I wish I’d known sooner because I’d’ve taken the first flight home and Nick wouldn’t have been alone.
“So, what happens now?” I ask, raking a hand through my hair. “What about Nick’s flat, his work?”
“I’ve taken care of all that. I’ve cancelled all his shoots, everyone’s been very supportive. I’ve squared it with his landlord and sorted out his wrecked bike. He’s being well looked after, Audrey. He’s got round the clock monitoring. NHS has been brilliant. The nurses are lovely. There really isn’t much you or I can do at the moment, but if you’re desperate to see him today,” he pauses, and my spirits lift for a moment. Maybe he’s changing his mind, maybe he’ll take me today. “He’s on the second floor in the critical care unit of the Whittington hospital.” I slump onto the sofa, defeated. “He’s in bed four. Just buzz and tell them I sent you. I’ll give Rosie, one of the nurses, a call to let her…”
“No,” I interrupt, logic kicking in. I can’t face walking in there alone. I need Ronan with me. “Tomorrow morning will be fine.”
9
I’m not usually one to be squeamish but I cover my mouth and gasp. Nick’s face is unrecognisable. Swallowing hard, I take a step closer. I want to scream. I want to pull out all the IV tubes, yank off the monitor cables and climb into bed with him. I want to hold him in my arms, kiss away the swellings, the cuts, the bruises. Tell him that I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean any of those things I said. I want to turn back the clock and say, ‘Yes, of course, we can postpone our wedding, honey’. But I can’t. There’s no going back. Ronan takes my hand, his fingers are cold.
“You should see the other guy,” he jokes, squeezing my hand gently. I look at him and manage a small smile. I’m so glad he’s here. “Right,” he says, then spins round, hands on hips, staring wildly around the ward. I glance quickly at the Nurses Station then give him a reproving look as he drags two comfortable looking armchairs towards me, legs screeching against the floor. “It’s ok,” he whispers with a dismissive wave, swerving them into position, “They’re all out of it in here, anyway.” Trust Ronan to make light of such serious circumstances. “Sit,” he demands, “go on.” We sink into the chairs simultaneously with a loud squish, he in the green one and I’m in the smoky pink. “Because pink is for girls,” he winks.
I inhale warm, hospital air, unbuttoning my beige raincoat. “It’s so quiet in here, Ro,” I whisper after a few moments, glancing around me.
“Yeah, but at least there isn’t that horrible smell of hospital food.” He pulls a face and adjusts his jacket as if it’s crawling with fleas. “These guys are better off with IV nutrition, I can tell you. Jeez man, I feel so dehydrated I could do with a bag of that saline myself.” Ronan loves a swig of Jack Daniels. In fact, I’m sure I smelt a whiff of whiskey on his breath this morning as he climbed into my car.
He pulls a crumpled tissue from the inside pocket of his jacket and wipes his eyes and nose. My eyes widen. Surely, he hasn’t come in here with a virus. “Don’t worry,” he sniffs, picking up on my vibe, “I haven’t got a cold.”
“I truly hope not. The last thing we want to do is give Nick an infection.” I was Googling comas and recovery last night. It said that comatose patients had to be protected from viruses as they could lead to serious infections such as pneumonia. That can’t happen. Nick needs to be kept free of germs. He must get better – he must wake up.
“It’s just these places.” More jacket adjusting. “They make my eyes run. I think I’m allergic to something.”
“Yes, sick people, perhaps?”
He grins at me, then springs to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m bursting for a pee. Save my seat, will you?” I shake my head and laugh as I watch him hurry down the ward, feet squeaking noisily against the navy vinyl flooring. Ronan always looks like he’s in a hurry. I don’t know anyone who walks as fast as he does. When he disappears from view I get to my feet.
“Jesus, Nick, what’s happened to you?” I entwine my fingers with his. His skin feels warm, soft…familiar. I kiss the back of his hand gently but he doesn’t flinch. I wonder if he can hear me. I read that a lot of people in comas can hear but they can’t respond. That must be so awful, trapped in your body, unable to communicate. I reach over and stroke his face gently with the back of my fingers. His bristles scratch, something I hated when we were together. Nick was a bit razor phobic, but now I don’t seem to care. I wonder if they’d allow me to shave him. I could ask Ronan to ask one of the nurses. He knows them all by name.
“Nick?” I shake him lightly by the arm, “Nick, can you hear me?” I loom over him. “It’s me. Audrey. Foxy. You’re going to get better, do you hear?” I search his face for some kind of response - a twitch, a flutter, anything. But he’s lying still. I watch his chest go up and down, up and down in time to the beeping of the heart monitor by his bed. “You can squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” The heart monitor beep, beep, beeps. “I’m here, Nick, and when you wake up I can help you get well again. I’ll nurse you back to health. Nick?” Beep, beep, beep. “Please wake up.” And just as I’m about to move away I’m sure I see a flicker of movement in his face, just for a nanosecond.
“Ahem.” I jerk my head around quickly. Ronan is standing behind me holding two polystyrene cups. My cheeks tingle. Shit. Did he just hear everything I said? I focus on the aroma of coffee seeping from the lids to centre myself. “It’s good to talk to him,” he grins. Oh God, he did. He hands me a Costa cup then sinks into the chair with another loud squish. “Rosie said it helps them come round.”
“Ah, you’re back, Ronan,” says a pretty nurse with a blonde bob, bustling onto the ward. “How was Dublin?”
“Talk of the devil.” Ronan raises his eyebrows and laughs. This must be Rosie, then. “Dublin was sound, thanks.” He’s gone slightly red. Ronan flushes quite easily. I’m not quite sure whether that’s down to his fair colouring or because he’s easily flustered. He takes a sip of coffee, nodding at Nick. “How’s my cousin doing?” I’m surprised he’s flirting with the nurse, a happily married man and father of two, but that’s men for you.
“He’s still stable. I’m glad he’s got company, though. Talking to him…”
“Always helps…” Ronan finishes, “See,” he points his finger at me, “I told you.” I throw him a twitch of a smile, cheeks stinging, he heard every word I said. The nurse looks at her pocket watch.
“I need to do his obs now and change his catheter,” she announces, screwing her face up, “not very nice. Perhaps, you’d like to wait in the relatives’ room?” Ronan leaps to his feet at the mention of a catheter.
“I need a fag, actually.” He turns to me, “Audrey?”
“Ronaaaaan.” I elbow him lightly in the ribs and he doubles over, pretending to be in agony. “I gave up ages ago, you know that, you doughnut.” I glance at the nurse and roll my eyes and we share a conspiratory girly grin. I think she quite fancies him, actually.
“Don’t forget to have one for me, Ronan,” she calls out as we head off down the ward. Ronan was right, though, she is lovely.
I thought Rosie was joking about the smoking but there’s a pool of doctors and nurses dragging hard on cigarettes outside. I wish I still smoked. I could do with a fag to take the edge off.
I shuffle from foot to foot to keep warm. The sun has disappeared and it’s much colder than I expected. What on earth possessed me to wear my mac? I should’ve worn my black puffa coat. I think I’m still in holiday mode.
I shiver and Ronan offers me his stylish brown, herringbone blazer, but I shake my head, tell him I’m fine. He gives me a lopsided grin as he takes it off anyway and drapes it around my shoulders, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth like a Hollywood movie star. It feels heavy and warm, fully lined in silky red satin. It also stinks of tobacco but I don’t say anything.
“You okay?” Ronan touches my back gently, “Do you want to go back inside?” I stare at my feet. Seeing Nick again has stirred all sorts of emotions, got my mind ticking. My brain feels like knotted cables. My thoughts a tangled mess.
“I’m not sure if I should be here, Ro. Everyone keeps telling me I’m mad. That Nick’s not my problem anymore.” I step out of the way as a doctor slides past us, stethoscope swinging around his neck. “Surely they can’t all be wrong? I just feel so confused. A part of me wants to be here for him but another part…” I look up at the sky. Dark clouds are rolling. It looks like we might be in for a storm. “I’m supposed to be moving forward, but I feel as if I’m going up an escalator the wrong way, that if I stop I’ll roll back and fall – hard.”
