Page 120 of Between Us

‘Did Joe do that? Play away on you?’

Bloody hell. Her mother had got there faster than anyone.To catch a thief.

‘Yeah,’ Roisin said. ‘With the girlfriend before me. Turns out they were never really over.’

‘You were right to finish it. It’s what I should’ve done with your dad. I let him say what went, and I wish I hadn’t.’

She gave Roisin a look and Roisin perfectly understood what she was referring to. ‘Don’t worry, I know.’

‘I know you adored your dad and there was never a way to raise what … well, you know.’

Roisin didn’t know what to say.

‘Now, about Matthew. What’s the state of play there? You know he’s in love with you, don’t you?’

Roisin laughed weakly. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I have eyes and a brain, darling. For now.’

‘… Yes. We were together briefly, but I found out he knew about Joe’s cheating years ago and didn’t tell me. Which made me quite mad. So we are currently apart.’

‘That’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t, isn’t it. I suspect, Rosie, he might’ve got nothing but grief if …’ Her voice squeaked as she fought through her suffering. ‘… he’d told you.’

No one else in the whole world called her Rosie.Why do the tiny things become suddenly gigantic? Roisin checked her watch.

‘Where ARE they?!’ Roisin said, not wanting to panic her mum but not being able to contain it. It already felt like hours. Eighteen minutes. That was long enough, surely?

Roisin heard a hammering at the front door and got down the stairs and through the bar, faster than she’d ever moved in her life. People in green uniforms with flashes of high-vis were waiting on the other side and she garbled about her mum and her pain andshe’s up here.

She had to stand behind them as they attended to Lorraine at the top of the stairs, asking questions in upbeat voices, grabbing equipment, moving with practised efficiency.

Roisin didn’t know what to do with herself, where to stand, what to do, other than crane her neck.

She’d hoped they’d tut and say this was nothing, not that a stretcher would emerge from the back of the vehicle with the flashing lights.

Then an oxygen mask appeared, and Roisin felt instantly frantic.

‘I don’t want you to go!’ she cried, looking at Lorraine, no longer a patient but her mother. She didn’t mean the hospital; she meant anywhere, ever. It was a childlike plea of pure terror at separation, at possibly permanent separation. Roisin burst into a flood of hot tears. Lorraine grabbed clumsily for Roisin’s arm and kissed the back of her hand, as she was pulled away.

The blue-lights journey to hospital was overwhelming, Roisin’s vision blurred by her partially suppressed crying. On the one hand, professional people had taken over and she could gratefully relinquish responsibility. On the other, the beeping machines, sirens and concentrated attention of third parties tore away any pretence that this wasn’t as bad as Roisin feared.

‘We’ll give you an update when we can – take a seat,’ said the paramedic, as her mum disappeared on a gurney through the doors of Macclesfield District, to pass into the hands of strangers. Roisin was left to wander A&E like a ghost.

She was awash with fight-or-flight. The concept of sitting still in one of those plastic bucket seats under this light, for an unspecified but protracted length of time, was like being told she should start Morris dancing.

She checked her phone. No bars of coverage, and it was just gone three a.m.

The time difference in Toronto was five hours: Ryan might pick up, but it seemed smarter to wait until she had something to tell him, rather than taking a night’s sleep from him when he might need those energy reserves.

Oh God.

She had to go outside to get reception. She scrolled her phone and rang the number. Selfish, unfair, outrageous, even. She couldn’t help it. His was the only voice she wanted to hear.

This experience was an emotional X-ray. The superfluous had disappeared; she was only essentials, bones and organs. She could see what mattered.

Hi, this is Matt! I can’t answer right now – leave a message, if you don’t hate leaving messages.

‘Matt,’ she choked into the receiver, after the beep. ‘It’s me. I’m at hospital. In Macclesfield. It’s Mum. They don’t know what’s wrong yet …’ She let out a sob and stifled it. ‘I found her on the floor, in extreme pain, about an hour ago. The doctors are with her now. I don’t know what the hell she’s been playing at, ’cos she told me she’d had a clear biopsy before I came back this summer. In true Lorraine fashion, that was bullshit. She’s been ignoring pain for ages, using over-the-counter meds to control it …’ Roisin realised she was spiralling. She paused and gulped.

---