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‘I won’t,’ I interrupt. ‘But thank you.’
My cheeks flush with frustration. Nate notices straight away and passes me the half-full bottle of water in his hand. I slug huge mouthfuls, draining the bottle completely. I pass him back the empty bottle, grateful.
‘Is that why Holly’s blood pressure is high?’ Nate asks. I haven’t seen him look this serious since I showed him the two blue lines on the pregnancy test. ‘Because there’s something wrong with the baby?’
The nurse shakes her head. ‘It’s doubtful. Only the baby is affected by the chromosomal malformation. For you, Holly, the pregnancy should feel normal.’
‘This is my first baby,’ I explain. ‘I don’t really know what normal feels like.’
‘Holly has been very upset since we found out the baby isn’t well. And I haven’t been as supportive as I should have been.’ Nate shuffles. ‘I didn’t take the news very well.’
‘We all react differently to unexpected news, Nathan. Finding out there are complications is not an easy thing for anyone to hear,’ the nurse says.
‘But it could cause high blood pressure, right?’ Nate says, clearly desperate for an answer that I don’t think he’ll get. ‘Stress causes all sorts of problems, doesn’t it?’
I knew from the moment we found out our baby was sick that Nate needed someone to blame. Now I know he’s blaming himself.
‘Stress is never good,’ the nurse says. ‘And while we can’t rule it out, I’d like to make sure nothing else is causing the spike.’
She scribbles something on the first page of the chart she created for me. She drops the pen into the top pocket of her scrubs and compensates for the sudden change in atmosphere with an overzealous smile. ‘Holly, let’s get you admitted.’
My eyes widen, and I back up on the bed until I hit my back off the wall. ‘Admitted?’
‘Just for observation,’ she assures. ‘Hopefully just for twenty-four hours.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t stay. I’m sorry. My grandmother is moving to a hospice today. I have to go with her.’
‘Is there another family member who could travel with her today?’ The nurse tilts her head to one side, and I think she can genuinely understand my predicament.
‘Yeah, of course. My mother is downstairs with her now. And my brother and my father. But I have to go, too. She needs me too. We’re a really close family, you see.’
‘Holly.’ The nurse places her hands on my shoulders and steadies me. ‘I can’t force you to do anything. But I will be honest with you. Your blood pressure is worryingly high. I can’t in good conscience let you walk out of here without informing you that you need to be monitored.’
‘But she’s dying,’ I snap.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ The nurse lowers her head and her busy eyes round and soften. ‘Of course, the decision of what to do is yours, but what would your grandmother want you to do?’
I groan inwardly. Of course Nana would want me to get a clean bill of health, but I’m not the one on my death bed. I glance at Nate. He’s pale, and dark half-moons are embedded so deep under his eyes, he looks sicker than either Nana or me.
‘Holly, please?’ he says. ‘I’m worried.’
I turn back to the nurse and nod.
‘Good.’ She smiles. ‘I’ll drop this to admissions.’ She waves the file. ‘And we’ll have you sorted out in a jiffy.’
I swallow hard. I will stay for a while. Long enough to put Nate’s mind at ease, but I’m not staying all night. Not when I need that time to be beside Nana.
TWENTY-EIGHT
HOLLY
Afternoon is creeping in, dragging with it dark rain clouds that smear across the winter sun like a moody oil painting. I lie on top of a lumpy hospital bed and wonder how time could possibly move so slowly. I think of Nana lying downstairs in the same position. Every time she opens her eyes, all she sees is the same once-white ceiling that’s turned an insipid yellowy-cream over time. No one should spend their last days lying flat on their back staring at a blank canvas. I think of Sketch. Nana’s words have helped me to feel I know a man I’ve never met. I wish he was here now. Here to paint a beautiful painting across the ceiling for Nana to look up at. A starry night sky would be perfect. Nana loves to gaze at the stars. I turn my head towards the window and sigh as moody clouds stare back at me. I hope they part tonight.
My phone beeps, announcing a text message, and pulls me out of my arty daydreaming. I called my mother earlier to let her know where I was. She insisted on coming up to check on me despite my reassurance that I was fine. She stayed an hour or so, but I could sense her anxiety. She was so conflicted about whether to stay up here with me or go back down to Nana. Finally, I got the idea to pretend I was tired, and I needed a nap. My father seized the opportunity to convince her to go home to grab a shower and something to eat. She agreed on the condition that Ben took up vigil at Nana’s bedside.
Ben’s been sending me humorous updates ever since. I pull myself into an uncomfortable half-sitting position and pat the bedside table with my hand. My ring clinks off the screen of my phone, and I pick it up and read the latest text.
Nana sleeping
