Page 55 of The Wedding Proposal

She hesitated when she saw the name on the screen. Then accepted the call. ‘Hello?’

‘This is Yvonne, duty night manager at The Briars. Am I speaking to Elle Jamieson?’

Elle’s throat went dry. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m calling about your mother. I’m afraid she’s quite poorly. It was just after dinner—’ Elle’s head began to spin as phrases like ‘doctor’, ‘ambulance’ and ‘hospital’ flew out of the phone with no real meaning.

She tried to lift her voice over the babble in the restaurant as she pushed herself to her feet, pressing the phone hard against her ear. ‘Just hang on. I’m moving outside where it’s quieter.’

Then Lucas was beside her, clearing a path so that she could stumble out of the warmth and noise into the street, where she could say to Yvonne, ‘Can you repeat that?’ so that she could force herself to understand what had been happening in Bettsbrough, far away, in another country, another time zone, another climate.

Her alcohol haze evaporated as she discussed the severity of Joanna Jamieson’s situation, running scenarios and discussing likely outcomes clinically and pragmatically. She ended by arranging to contact the day shift in the morning for her mother’s health bulletin.

Elle ended the call feeling calm and in control. She turned to Lucas, who’d waited, lounging against a wall nearby. ‘My mum—’ she began. And burst into tears.

Somehow she found herself in Lucas’s arms, face pressed against the warm fabric of his T-shirt as sobs shook through her, shocked that she was bawling in the street like a child but somehow unable to stop. Vaguely, she was aware of Charlie and Kayleigh arriving, Kayleigh shoving reams of tissues into her hands and Charlie getting them all to a taxi. The car’s interior was hot though all its windows were open, and, still unable to control the sobs, Elle let herself be driven back to Ta’ Xbiex.

All the time, Lucas’s arms remained around her, comforting and strong.

By the time the car dropped them on the road beside the gardens, she’d more or less cried herself out, but her chest ached and her eyes felt as if someone had been at them with a laser.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I don’t know where that came from. It’s ages since I cried like that.’

‘Let’s get you on board,’ was Lucas’s only reply. Nobody asked any questions until she was seated in the saloon with a bottle of cold water and a cup of milky coffee.

Elle sucked the water down, grateful for its chill to soothe her rasping throat. ‘My mum’s had another stroke. She’d just eaten dinner when it hit.’ She swallowed a mouthful of the coffee. ‘She’s in Bettsbrough General Hospital. She’s not in immediate danger but,’ her voice wobbled, ‘the night manager said that it was too early to tell much. Mum’s pretty confused anyway, so if it turns out to be a slight stroke it might not make too much difference.’

She tried to laugh but it emerged as a croak. ‘Somehow, that’s what seemed almost too sad to bear. S-stupid, really, to be upset because she’s in such a poor way already that another stroke, more or less, doesn’t make a difference.’

‘So what’s going to happen? What do you need to do?’ asked Lucas, gently.

Elle sighed. Her head was pounding and she rubbed it with her fingertips. ‘I suppose I’ll have to ring Dad. When Mum had her first stroke I was only an hour and a half away so I did everything but this time Dad’s closer than I am. I don’t really know what the etiquette is between divorced people when something bad happens to one of them, though.’ She picked up her phone and toyed with it. ‘If you guys want to get off, I don’t mind. I know it’s late.’

Charlie hesitated, but Kayleigh took his arm. ‘Come on, Charlie, she doesn’t need us eavesdropping while she talks to her dad.’

They both kissed and hugged Elle and then only Lucas remained in the quiet of the saloon, the Shady Lady barely moving at her mooring, the road noise rising and falling outside against the constant whrrrrrrrr of the cicadas in the gardens.

His eyes were fixed on her. ‘Do you want me to disappear?’

‘Not unless you want to.’ His presence was comforting. Familiar. And, at that moment, almost essential.

‘I’ll stay.’

* * *

He watched her pick up her phone, checking the time. ‘It’ll be nearly midnight at home.’ She scrolled through her contacts, made her selection and held the handset to her ear.

Her eyes were pink, her skin blotchy, her nose and lips faintly swollen. Like many fair women, she didn’t cry prettily. Her shoulders had convulsed as he’d cradled her against him in the night-time busyness of Republic Street. He didn’t really remember seeing her cry before. Maybe a few tears at a weepy movie, laughed off in embarrassment, but not heaving, hurting, helpless sobs.

It’s ages since I cried like that. He’d actually had to quell the impulse to demand, ‘Did you ever cry like that over our break-up? Is it one more thing you never showed?’ Then felt ashamed. Tonight was not about him.

He could hear the ringtone chirruping from her phone. Then, ‘Dad, it’s me, I—’ Her voice caught.

Lucas handed her the coffee cup and she took a swift gulp.

‘Dad, Mum’s had another stroke. Someone from The Briars rang me.’ Elle took a breath and began to recount as much as she knew and, apart from a couple of wobbly moments, she coped, twisting her hair, sniffing, finding a tissue to blow her nose between sentences.

It was curious to hear her and her father conduct a polite and courteous discussion. He compared their conversation to those he had with his own parents, always bursting with enquiries about how he was and what he was doing, and he silently vowed never to be irritated by them again. Those demands symbolised the love and warmth that had surrounded him as he’d grown up. Even if his parents had given Elle a bit of a rough ride, he’d never doubted that their love for him was deep and unconditional.

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