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‘Which hospital is she likely to be in?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even know where she’s living now. I assume she’s still in the same place, but she might have moved.’
‘Okay, then maybe Terry knows. Why not try him once more?’
He dials the number on the phone and, after a few rings, it’s answered this time. A short conversation ensues and, from what I can pick up, Terry hasn’t got any more information about Matt’s mum, but he is able to tell him that she’s still living in the same house in Peterborough. We do some research on the internet and it appears the most likely place for her to have gone is the Peterborough City Hospital, so Matt calls them. Again, I’m not able to make out much from his side of the conversation, but I can sense his mounting frustration. He keeps repeating his mother’s name and explaining that he’s her son, but I can tell he’s getting nowhere. Eventually, he hangs up.
‘Well, that was a total waste of bloody time! They’re not prepared to tell me anything at all due to patient confidentiality. They’ll only give me any information if I go there in person with documentation to prove who I am.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Well, this Terry bloke sounds like he’s probably her current boyfriend. Whoever he is, if she makes it, he’ll tell her that I called, so I’m kind of involved now. It sounds stupid, but I don’t want to be the bad person here. Useless as she is, I suppose the least I can do is make the effort to check if she’s still alive. If she isn’t, I guess I ought to sort out some sort of a funeral for her.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No. I don’t know how long this will take. If she’s died… it might take a few days to sort everything out. Shit, sorry, I forgot about the café! I’ll go up there now, get the lie of the land, and then come back this evening. If she’s died, then maybe I can sort it out remotely or something.’
‘Don’t worry about the café, that’s my job,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure I can manage for a few days without you if I need to. Tell me, when was the last time you had any time off?’
‘I was ill about six months after I started. I had a high temperature, and I was in bed for a week. I think that was the last time,’ he says , after thinking for a bit.
‘Right, you’re well overdue for a break then. Go and find your mum. Don’t worry about us, we’ll cope somehow, okay?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ I tell him, even though the prospect of being on my own in the kitchen, with his work to do on top of mine, terrifies me.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me fiercely. ‘You’re a very special person, Daisy Jones, you know that?’
‘You’re pretty special yourself. Now go. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.’
29
I know I did the right thing by encouraging Matt to go and find his mother, but it doesn’t feel like it. He’s been gone for a week now, and not only do I miss him so much that it feels like a permanent dull pain in my chest – a literal heartache – but I’m also dead on my feet. The only way I’ve found of ensuring everything gets done is to get up at 5 each morning, spend two hours getting the afternoon cakes done before the café opens at 7.30, and then stay on after closing to prepare the next day’s lunchtime special. I’m sticking to things that can be made in advance and reheated, so the specials menu isn’t as varied as I’d like it to be, but there’s no other way around at the moment. The customers don’t seem to have noticed, which I suppose is good news; we’re as busy as ever.
Nan and Grandad were absolutely delighted with our gift to them, after they’d finished scolding us for wasting our money, as they saw it. We’ve agreed that Katie will move in with me while they’re away; she can commute to Paddock Wood from Sevenoaks by train for the first week, and then she’ll be on her Christmas break for the second.
Matt found his mum on the first day; she was in the hospital that he’d telephoned. They were a lot more helpful once he turned up in person and proved who he was. Thankfully, they’d been able to move her out of intensive care into a ward, but she was still very weak. It seems that a particularly dangerous binge, on top of the damage done by her chronic alcoholism, had tipped her over the edge and caused her collapse. The consultant had taken Matt to one side on Monday morning and explained that this really was her last chance. If she didn’t kick the bottle now, she’d be dead within months.
We’ve spoken on the phone every day, but it’s not the same as having him here. I’ve got so used to him being around, firstly in the kitchen in the café, and more recently in my flat, that I notice the lack of him wherever I go. I even missed him when I was trawling round the cash and carry, that’s how bad it is. If this is what being in love is like, you can keep it.
I think it would be easier if I had any idea how long he’s likely to be gone for. Although she’s been through the acute stages of alcohol withdrawal in the hospital, she’s still deemed to be at high risk of relapse, and the consultant has told Matt that her best chance of success is if he stays with her to encourage her and look after her when she’s discharged. We had a long conversation about it, because he’s still conflicted, but deep down, we both know that his only option is to stay with her for the time being. She’s being discharged next week, so we’ll see what happens then. The consultant advised Matt to get her into a rehab clinic but, unsurprisingly, the waiting lists for NHS-funded rehab are immense. I did offer to pay for her to go privately, but Matt was so horrified by the cost that he flatly refused to entertain that idea any further. He’s found a cheaper option where she will attend intensive group therapy every day, which he can fund out of his savings. Again, I offered to help, but I think this is probably a pride issue for him; he feels responsible for her, so he wants to fix it himself.
It’s Sunday today, so Katie and I are due at Nan and Grandad’s for lunch. It’s a sign of how exhausted I am that I was still asleep when she got home just after eleven, so it was a bit of a rush to get ready. Nan really pushed the boat out with today’s roast; we had roast beef with all the trimmings, followed by treacle sponge. I was so grateful to be eating something that I hadn’t had to cook that I probably had far too much, and now I’m struggling to stay awake on the sofa.
‘You look completely done in, Daisy,’ Nan observes. ‘Why don’t you go and have a lie-down on Katie’s bed for a bit? She won’t mind, will you, Katie?’
‘Fine with me. Nan’s right, you do look knackered,’ Katie agrees.
As I pad down the hall to Katie’s room, I glance into my old bedroom. Nan and Grandad have been unable to agree what to do with it since I moved out, so it’s still empty. Nan wanted to turn it into a spare room, but Grandad rightly questioned who they would be inviting to stay. Grandad, on the other hand, wanted to turn it into a study, but Nan put her foot down and said she wasn’t going to let him create some sort of ‘man cave’ where he could hide out all day.
I take off my shoes and climb onto Katie’s bed. As I lie down, I can’t help wondering whether my life would have been a lot easier had Fred not left us anything. I would never have met Matt, which means I wouldn’t be aching from missing him now, and I’d be plodding along in my old job at Holdsworth & Speke, or Holdsworth & whatever they are now. If Rob’s made partner, then I guess it will be his surname, but I’ve completely forgotten what that is. I hunt around in my mind, but nothing comes. I close my eyes and I’m asleep within seconds.
I’m woken by the ringing of my phone. It’s completely dark outside, but as it’s winter, that doesn’t really tell me very much. I glance at the screen and see that it’s Matt calling. My heart does a little somersault, as it always does when I see his name.
‘Hi! How are you?’ I ask, brightly. Maybe this time there will be good news and he’ll be able to tell me when he’s coming home.
‘Yeah, I’m okay. Mum’s doing a lot better today; I spoke to one of the nurses and she thinks the consultant might discharge her tomorrow.’
