Page 71 of My Summer of Magic Moments

‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that information as yet. But they have definitely located a man at sea.’

‘Thank you.’ She noticed that she was shaking all over.

He had said ‘man’ not ‘body’, surely that was good. Wasn’t it?

‘You may now close the line.’

‘Uh, ah … wait … do you know where they’ll be taking him?’

‘The rescue helicopter usually goes to the RVI in Newcastle, madam. That’s the Royal Victoria Infirmary.’

‘Oh …’

‘It’s okay to hang up now, Claire.’

‘Oh, okay, thank you.’ She still felt stunned, dread paralysing her.

‘You’re welcome.’ And the gentleman closed the line himself.

So she could leave the dunes. She went to the wet pile of clothes, his clothes. Bundled them up.

‘Are you okay, pet? Can we help?’ The couple who’d been watching approached her.

‘Ah … it’s okay. They’ve found him … There was a man at sea … they’ve found him.’

‘You’re drenched, lass, and cold, no doubt. We have a car just across the dunes at the roadside. Can we take you somewhere?’

‘Thank you, but I’m from the cottages just here. I’ll get back there now. Thank you.’

Bess followed her back to her house. The pile of Ed’s clothes were soaking, so she placed them in the kitchen sink. Then realized how wet she was herself. She stripped off her own robe and pyjamas and shivered her way upstairs. She needed to get herself down to the RVI hospital. She needed to find out how he was. Would they let her in, answer her questions? She wasn’t family. She wasn’t even a girlfriend. But the devil was going to have to stop her. She showered and towel-dried quickly, pulled on some underwear, jeans and a jumper, ran downstairs and grabbed her coat, her phone, her keys. Bess looked at her dolefully.

‘Come on then, girl – we’re in this together, aren’t we?’ She opened the passenger door for the dog, and she settled in the foot-well.

She queued impatiently for the car park, hunted for a space, paid a fortune to park in the narrowest space ever. When did it get so expensive to be ill, or to visit someone who was ill? She remembered to leave the window of the car ajar for Bess, and made a mental note to buy a bottle of water to give to her later. She found the main reception. She hadn’t a clue which ward he might have been taken to.

‘Hi.’ Claire tried her best smile. ‘Has there been a man brought in by the coastguard helicopter, about an hour or so ago? Ed.’

‘I’ll have to check. We have a lot of patients.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you a relative?’ The receptionist’s well-plucked eyebrow arched further up. Claire was never good at lying, the receptionist had probably got her measure. But Claire hadn’t driven all the way down here with a damp, distressed dog for nothing.

‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Yes, I’m his sister.’

‘Okay, take a seat for a minute. I’ll see what I can find out for you.’

‘Thank you.’

The receptionist managed a polite yet sceptical smile.

Ten minutes later, Claire was given directions to the men’s general ward. Thank God! Surely they wouldn’t send her up to a ward if he hadn’t made it? He must be okay – at least alive – and anything else they would deal with. She nearly hugged the receptionist.

A kind-looking young nurse met her at the entrance doors. ‘You’re here for Edward Baxter?’

‘Yes … that’s it.’ She stalled for a second, realizing that she hadn’t even know his surname. She hoped there wasn’t more than one chap named Ed on the ward whose sister she was meant to be. This could be interesting.

She followed the nurse through to a cubicle, and she pushed the privacy curtain aside, announcing, ‘Edward, your sister’s here.’

He sat up, a quizzical look crossing his face, until Claire appeared at the nurse’s side with a hopeful smile.

‘Ah, yes … yes, of course. Hi, Claire.’ He maintained the pretence. His voice sounded slow, like it was hard to find words.