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‘She hasn’t left his side, just sitting there. I don’t think she closed her eyes once.’ The nurse’s tone had softened.
‘And she’s…’
‘His wife.’ The other woman gave her a hard stare now. ‘You know that only next of kin are allowed to visit ICU,’ she said sharply.
‘Of course.’ Liv found her tone dropping even lower. ‘And there have been no other visitors?’ She was thinking of M. The note attached to the gift he’d been carrying when the accident happened. For some reason, unclear even to Liv, she’d stashed the gift in her own locker, hoping for a chance to meet the mysterious M and pass it on, without upsetting Estelle. As the night had worn on, she’d become more convinced that the gift was for a lover; he was probably having an affair. He was, she confirmed again with one more glance, a very attractive man. ‘It’s a long time to be sitting there,’ she said as the ICU nurse began to close out the door so she could return to her duties.
Liv set off for the coffee shop on the ground floor. Everything was closed up today, but the concession owner had left the coffee machine outside the shutters and on a nearby table a selection of pastries and sandwiches with best-by dates probably better ignored as the day wore on. Still, it was a thoughtful festive gesture. Staff needed coffee breaks to keep going; today more than any other it was a vital service. She made two cups of strong coffee and slipped milk, sugar and a couple of small pastries in her bag. She had a feeling that Estelle probably wasn’t a chocolate woman, not with that figure, but Liv needed sugar this morning like usually she needed air. The journey back to the flat alone would be enough to test a saint, what with only skeleton bus services and the icy roads.
This time when she arrived outside the ward, she managed to catch Estelle’s eye. She held up the coffee cup and motioned her to come out and join her.
‘God, that’s good,’ Estelle said after taking her first sip of hot black coffee.
‘Actually, it’s not really, but with the night you’ve spent here, anything probably would taste good.’
‘I couldn’t sleep.’ Estelle blew across the surface of her cup. As Liv had expected, she’d turned down the offer of food, even the one protein bar that Liv found at the bottom of her bag.
‘No.’ Liv knew that feeling well, sitting there all night long, with a knot in your stomach, waiting for something to happen. It was a completely different sort of exhaustion to actually working the night through.
‘I was just so worried. I mean, even today, they can’t tell me how he is or what’s going to happen to him.’ A large tear formed at the corner of her eye. ‘Sorry,’ she said, as she managed to blow her nose elegantly, like a cute kitten compared to the blubbering wreck Liv would have been if she’d been in the same boat. ‘You’re really very good, bringing coffee up to me. I…’
‘Stop. It’s the very least I could do,’ Liv said sipping her own milky sweet coffee. ‘Actually, if you want to go home and tidy yourself up, grab a couple of hours’ sleep, I don’t mind staying with him.’ The words were out before Liv realised it. But, it was funny, the tiredness she’d felt on finishing her shift had all but evaporated now sitting here with Estelle.
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that; it’s too much to ask…’
‘Is there no-one else who can come here and sit with him?’
‘Not really. His parents are on a Christmas cruise. It’s his mum’s birthday tomorrow and last I heard they were walking around Mexico City. I rang them of course, last night, but…’
‘Shouldn’t you go downstairs and check to see if they’ve rung back?’ Liv suggested, realising Estelle would have had to keep her phone off anywhere near this ward. ‘I’m sure they’ll be worried sick when they hear he’s been in an accident.’ She looked at this girl. She was indeed very striking, but very young too, much too young to be married to Finn O’Connell. She hardly looked twenty-two now that her make-up of the previous night had worn away and he was, according to his driver’s licence, the same age as Liv – thirty-six years old.
‘I suppose,’ she said, standing now and glancing through the narrow window at the bed opposite.
‘Go on,’ Liv said taking the empty paper cup from her and walking her towards the stairs. When she turned back, she saw the nurse she’d spoken to earlier was on her way home after her shift. She looked like the type of woman who would go home to an organised house, probably with teenagers and husband already having dinner cooked and on the table for when she arrived. ‘Happy Christmas,’ Liv said as she passed her. Liv watched as she left and then pushed the door through to the ward.
She padded across the floor to Finn O’Connell’s bedside and sat in the seat so recently vacated by Estelle, picking up the notes that had been left there by the last nurse who’d done obs. Liv couldn’t help flicking through them. There was nothing more to add – he was stable, hopefully healing beneath the coma that shut him off from the rest of the world for now. She drank in his features, so weirdly familiar although they’d hardly really met at all; she’d thought of those few words between them, many times over the course of the last few hours.
It was strange – sitting here, watching him sleeping. It was almost intimate in a way she’d never really imagined it could be. Of course, she’d sat in chairs like this often with Rachel. There had been many times when her sister had been so emptied out by her treatment that she slipped off and away from her for hours on end and Liv would just sit there, waiting for her to come back to her, somehow always believing that she’d never completely leave her in spite of what the doctors were intent on telling them.
It felt like that now. As if she was waiting for someone who meant far more to her than a stranger she’d hardly met. She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there when Estelle tapped her shoulder. They walked outside for a moment. Their shoes pinched the floor with loud rubbery squeaks in spite of their attempt to be as silent as they could. This ward was filled with too many signs telling them to be quiet and reminding them only one visitor was allowed to each patient.
‘They’re coming back,’ Estelle said when they were standing in the hallway. ‘His parents; they’ve booked a flight out of Miami. It’s a bit of a nightmare as you can imagine, what with Christmas and everything. And to make things even more complicated, they’re out in the middle of the ocean at the moment, but they dock in Miami tomorrow morning and then they’ll fly back immediately.’
‘Well, that’s good news,’ Liv said, feeling an unexpected rush of relief almost overwhelming her. Weirdly, it was that same feeling she got when she returned to Ballycove; she felt it now, as if she was nearing home after a very long time away. Home. God, she hadn’t even called her parents to wish them a happy Christmas yet. She’d do it as soon as she got down to the ground floor. ‘Are you really sure there’s nothing I can do?’ she said, gathering up their discarded cups to dispose of on her way.
‘No. I think I’ll hang about here for a while longer and maybe later I’ll go home and clean myself up a bit,’ Estelle said. ‘Thanks, you know, for the coffee and everything…’
‘Oh, don’t mention it. Really.’ She looked at the girl again, so young, so fragile. ‘Look, I’m working again tonight,’ Liv said, having just offered to pick up another shift before she left A&E – well, in for a penny, in for a pound. It seemed she couldn’t just walk away now; although she knew the department would survive without her, something was pulling her back. ‘I’ll come in a little earlier and sit with him if you’re not here, if you’d like…’
‘Would you? That’s so kind of you,’ Estelle said softly and then she was gone, back to her seat by his side, and Liv watched a little enviously as she placed her hand over his and whispered something to him that no-one else was meant to hear. And then, Liv thought of M – and everything about the scene before her was somehow turned inside out. She shook her head, walking towards the stairwell. Perhaps she was lucky; at least her life was straightforward, wasn’t it?
*
Her dad wouldn’t say it, but she knew he was disappointed she wouldn’t be home for Christmas dinner. ‘Ara, sure – isn’t it all part of the vocation?’ he said when she called. ‘You just mind yourself and don’t be killing yourself. I know that you’ll come back to us as soon as you can.’ And she imagined him, standing over a shed full of newborn lambs, her favourite part of living on a farm. ‘We can have our own Christmas when you do come home.’
‘It’ll be a bit strange, the three of you there with Eddie and Barbara. I’m really sorry for having organised it and now…’
‘Oh, don’t be worrying yourself. Isn’t it only penance for the next world? Won’t we be shoo-ins for sainthood if we can get through it all without you?’ he said, laughing.
