We arrange to meet at Kate’s Airbnb in Shoreditch, so she can dump her car and grab some shoes. It doesn’t look like much from the outside– an old block of flats that needs updating– but there’s resident parking, which I guess was part of the appeal. It’s in a livelier area than our home in Croydon, but I imagine the rates here aren’t cheap. I pull up beside her car and text her to let her know I’m here.
I hug her the moment I see her.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ she says. ‘I’m all over the place right now.’
‘She’ll be OK,’ I assure her. ‘Gubba’s a tough old bird and you know she’s holding out for that telegram from the Queen.’
At least I make her smile. Shoes and clothes collected, Kate gives me the hospital address and we set off for the Peaks. I keep the conversation light. As much as I want to tell Kate how much I’ve missed her, I know now is not the time.
‘I’ve given my boss a call and explained the situation,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll keep her updated, but she’ll arrange a supply teacher for tomorrow.’
Kate gives a little laugh to herself. ‘You picked the right job, Ed. It must be nice to work for actual human beings.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she replies. ‘Right now, none of it matters.’
It’s almost 8pm when we get to the hospital, heading straight to ward 7. As we go up in the lift, a thought occurs to me.
‘Kate, have you told your family that we’ve split?’
She shakes her head. ‘Not yet. And now’s probably not the best time to tell them either.’
‘No, I didn’t mean. . . I was just checking.’
The doors open and we follow the signs until we reach the nurses’ station.
‘Marian Adams,’ Kate says to the nurse behind the desk. ‘She was brought in today.’
‘Room 2,’ he tells her. ‘Best make it quick– visiting hours have just finished.’
We cross to the other side of the ward and find room 2, where we can see Paula sitting at Gubba’s bedside. Kate grabs my hand as we walk in.
‘Oh Kate, love, you made it,’ Paula says, quietly. ‘She’s sleeping; they gave her something for her pain. Looks like pneumonia.’
Gubba looks almost as pale as the sheets she lies under, with an oxygen mask over her mouth. I hear Kate gasp a little.
‘What are they giving her?’ she asks, pulling a chair up beside her mum.
‘Antibiotics, oxygen,’ Paula replies. ‘They’ve done chest X-rays and god knows what else. Doctor says we’ll know more in the morning. See how she’s responding.’
‘You look tired as well, Mum,’ Kate says. ‘You should get some rest; we’ll take you home.’
Paula nods. ‘They don’t let visitors stay overnight, so I’ll come back first thing.’ She leans in to kiss Gubba. ‘N’night, Mum. I’ll see you in the morning.’
As we walk back to the car park, Paula suddenly stops. ‘What if she’s not all right, Kate? I can’t lose my mum. I’m not ready.’
As she cries, Kate just holds her in the middle of the corridor. I carry on to the car park to give them some time alone, wiping away my own tears. I’m very fond of Gubba– and while I might not be family, I’m not ready to lose her either.
Kate
When we arrive home, Tom’s still up, and meets us at the front door with Gary in tow. ‘Is Gubba OK?’ he asks me. ‘Mum says she’s not well.’
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so concerned before, and instantly, I know it’s my job to make things less scary for him. I smile, hoping that my mascara-stained eyes don’t give me away.
‘Well, she was asleep when I saw her, but she had this amazing mask on. So I asked the doctor about it, and he said, “We’re giving her super oxygen. This oxygen is so high-tech and advanced that everyone who takes it immediately gets stronger.”’
‘Really?’ he asks, his face marginally less fraught.
