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A smell of mashed potato and Dettol wafts through. It’s rank. Molly and I look at each other and scrunch our noses and stick out our tongues. But Charlotte doesn’t close the door behind her, she remains standing in the doorway awkwardly with her hands behind her back. It’s as if she’s waiting for someone to tell her it’s okay to come in.
I look at Mam and Dad, they’re still deep in whispery conversation. Dad is looking at Mam, nodding and agreeing with whatever she says, but Mam is looking at Charlotte the same way I looked at Roisin Kelly for a month after she put chewing gum in my hair in science last year.
‘Mammy close the door, quick, quick,’ Molly says, as if the corridor is some dark portal and my room is another dimension where it’s safe. ‘It’s stinky out there.’
‘Yeah.’ Dad looks up and makes a face. ‘It really does smell awful out there, what is that?’
‘Lunch,’ I say.
‘Oh Jesus, really?’ Dad says.
‘Well, hospitals aren’t exactly known for their delicious food, now, are they, Dad,’ I say.
‘God, I don’t know which is worse. Your poor leg or having to eat that crap,’ Dad jokes, and I laugh.
‘Gavin,’ Mam says, crossly.
‘What?’ Dad shrugs. ‘Oh c’mon, Heather, something has to lighten the mood. I thought it was funny.’
‘It was,’ I say.
‘I do know your knee is very painful, Kay,’ Dad says. ‘I was just trying to cheer you up, that’s all.’
I know,’ I say.
‘I also know I’m bringing you something decent to eat tomorrow,’ Dad adds. ‘How does McDonald’s sound?’
‘I love McDonald’s,’ Molly shrieks and bounces on the bed.
‘Molly, Molly, calm down,’ Charlotte warns, hurrying towards us.
The door shuts with a loud bang behind her and startles us all. I laugh. So does Molly. But my parents and Charlotte are all mega serious.
‘I don’t think you can bring food from elsewhere into the hospital,’ Mam says.
‘What?’ Dad folds his arms. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mam says. ‘Health and safety, I s’pose.’
‘Rubbish,’ Dad says. ‘If you can bring in home-made muffins, then I can bring a burger and chips. And if I can’t, I’ll sneak it in under my coat. They’ll never know.’
‘Dad.’ I smile. ‘You absolute rebel, you.’
‘Speaking of sneaking things in,’ Charlotte says, finally revealing her hands from behind her back.
‘What’s that?’ Molly asks, pointing to the takeaway cup Charlotte is holding.
‘Oh my God. Is that a hot chocolate?’ I ask, hopeful.
The large cream-and-gold cup isn’t from the canteen downstairs. I recognise the logo from the place around the corner that Mam was telling me about.
‘With extra marshmallows,’ Charlotte says.
‘Yesssss.’ I smile.
‘I like hot chocolate,’ Molly says, sad that there is only one cup.
‘We can share,’ I suggest, quickly.
