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I glance at my mother. She has the same sense of urgency dancing in her glistening eyes.
‘Tea.’ I confirm.
I fling open the door, and it hits the wall with a loud bang. I leave it open behind me to let some light into that miserable room.
‘Ben,’ I say, physically bumping into my brother in the corridor.
Black circles cling to the space around his eyes, and his floppy chestnut hair is more messy than usual. I wonder how long he’s been out here pacing the floor.
‘Go see her,’ I say, tossing my head over my shoulder to glance back at the open door.
Ben scrunches his face and roughly stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets.
‘They’re moving her to the hospice later,’ I blurt.
Air catches in the back of Ben’s throat and makes him cough awkwardly.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘There wasn’t any other way to say it.’
‘She’ll hate that.’ Ben stiffens. ‘She needs to go home.’
I agree. Nana has spent her life working the land. She’s not the type of woman to retreat to some hospital bed and slowly slip away pumped full of so many drugs she doesn’t even know her family are with her. My eyes drift towards the daylight streaming in through the large windows beside us. A huge old chestnut tree takes pride of place in the centre of the hospital gardens. It reminds me of the wonky apple tree outside Nana’s house. Suddenly I have an idea.
‘Ben,’ I say sternly, dragging my brother’s hands out of his pockets and shoving them firmly by his sides to force him to straighten up and look at me. ‘Go to her. I know you’re scared. We all are. But there’s no second chances. If you miss out on this time with her, you will regret it for the rest of your life.’
Ben nods obediently, wearing his heartache on his sleeve.
‘I have to get some tea now. For Nana,’ I explain. ‘But I’ll need your help with something later, okay?’
Ben’s expression changes, and he looks at me the way he used to when we were kids. He always knew when I was up to something I shouldn’t have been and I was most likely going to get myself in trouble and drag him into it, too.
‘Holly.’ He says my name firmly, cementing himself as the wise, older brother.
‘Trust me. This is a good idea. A great one.’ I twitch excitedly. ‘I gotta go.’
TWENTY-SIX
HOLLY
‘Three teas to take away, please?’ I say when I finally reach the front of the long canteen queue.
It’s horrendously stuffy in here. Three-quarters of the walls are floor-to-ceiling windows and none are open. Condensation trickles down the inside of the glass like sparkling treacle. Despite the cold wind outside, the low sun is blasting through the glass and giving the impression of a summer’s day. I’m way too hot, but I can’t take off my coat because I can’t carry it and manage a tray of takeaway cups at the same time.
I look around the seating area. Most seats are occupied. Every second person is wrapped up in a dressing gown and sipping some hot beverage as they chat to someone else at the same table wearing regular day clothes. My mind winds back to last year. That was Nana and me sitting at one of those round tables; chatting as if we didn’t have a care in the world. Nana was a patient after having her hip replaced. She wasn’t sick then. I had no idea that within twelve months I would be back in this same, stuffy canteen under such different circumstances.
‘Sugar?’ the girl at the checkout asks, pulling me out of my daydreams.
I shake my head. ‘No. Thanks.’
I pay, take the paper tray of wobbly teas, and attempt to navigate the sea of people between me and the exit. But before I make it, the stifling heat and lack of fresh air gets the better of me and darkness creeps across my eyes as if someone is pulling down a blackout blind. I try desperately to seek out somewhere to sit, but I’m too weak and there’s no time. My eyes close.
When I open my eyes again, I’m flat on my back on the sticky canteen floor. There’s a puddle of tea-brown liquid on the ground next to me, and the sleeve of my coat is soaking wet. A circle of several heads peer down at me. They’re talking. Whether to each other or to me, I can’t tell. It’s all just a noisy blur. I can hear sound but not words. I slowly realise someone is sitting on the ground with me, cradling me. My head is in their lap, and they are stroking my hair. My eyes adjust to the light, and I recognise their jeans and shoes. Nate.
I’m so relieved he’s here that, despite all the faces staring down at me, I start to cry. I cry because I’m embarrassed to have landed on the canteen floor with an audience. I cry because my heart is breaking that I will have to say goodbye to Nana soon. And I cry because the man I love most in the world holds me in his arms right now, and all I want to do is turn around and hold him back and tell him that I wish I could fix our baby.
‘Excuse me! Excuse me!’ A female voice carries over the circle of onlookers. ‘Excuse me.’
The woman crouches beside me, and I smile as soon as I see her face. ‘Marcy.’
