Page 32 of Tis the Season
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!I suddenly felt hot and struggling to swallow, I grabbed a glass of water and drank a mouthful.Please don’t do this,I silently pleaded. Despite demanding more commitment from Gideon, the last thing either of us needed was him getting down on one knee.
‘…life has been wonderful. You’ve…’
My phone rang again and as Gideon fell silent, the two of us stared at each other.
I looked down at my friend’s name on the screen. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Gideon, but I knew I couldn’t let him finish. I snatched up the handset. ‘I’m sorry. I need to get this.’
Muttering under his breath, Gideon threw himself back in his seat, but despite his annoyance, I had to hold firm. There was no way we were ready for marriage and shutting Gideon up was the only way to save his dignity. ‘Joyce wouldn’t keep trying to get through if it wasn’t important,’ I said, hitting the call answer button.
‘Hattie. Oh, thank God.’
Hearing Joyce’s desperation, thoughts of Gideon vanished.
‘I’m at the hospital.’
My heart stopped as panic hit me. ‘Why? What’s happened?’
Gideon leaned forward, his eyes questioning.
‘It’s Richard.’ Joyce began to cry. ‘I think I’m going to lose him.’
CHAPTER17
The drive to the hospital was unbearable. Pedestrians appeared as if from nowhere, stepping out in front of us to slow us down. Every traffic light turned red on our approach and took forever to go green.
Joyce had been in too much of a state to speak clearly and my mind struggled to work out what had happened and how. All I knew for sure was that my friend needed me, and she needed me now.
Gideon drove in silence, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, while I sat hands clenched, fingernails digging into my palms. Despite the urgency, Gideon appeared calm and collected. I couldn’t tell if he was sulking at me for ruining his big moment, or good in a crisis. Either way, he didn’t appear to recognise the severity of our journey and watching him methodically shift through the gears, I wanted to scream at him to put his foot down.
As we neared the hospital, I prayed for Richard to be okay, but a little voice in my head reminded me that such pleas weren’t always answered. Refusing to listen, I wasn’t giving up hope. Instead, I insisted this time things would be different. They had to be.
At last, we reached the hospital and as Gideon pulled up outside accident and emergency, my hand was already opening the car door.
‘I’ll call you,’ Gideon called out, as I slammed the door shut.
Racing to the entrance, I suddenly stopped. My feet refused to move, and my hands shook.Come on, Hattie.I took a deep breath and exhaled.This isn’t about you. It’s about Joyce and Richard.Knowing I had to push through my fears, I pulled myself together and ignoring my pounding heart, charged through the doors. Erin was already at the desk as I fast approached. ‘Any news?’ I asked, determined not to crumble.
She shook her head. ‘Mrs Data Protection here won’t tell me anything.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist said. ‘But like I’ve explained my hands are tied. Unless you’re family, there’s nothing I can do.’
‘But we are family.’ While technically that was a lie, it didn’t feel like one. With Gran gone, aside of Gideon, Erin and Joyce were all I had. ‘Joyce is our sister.’
The receptionist narrowed her eyes.
Considering the generational age gap between each of us, even I could see how far-fetched that sounded, but with no more time to waste, that was my story, and it was up to her to prove otherwise. ‘Our older sister.’ Having previously borne the consequence of being fobbed off by a hospital receptionist, I wasn’t about to let that happen again and I stared at the woman, eyebrows raised, daring her to challenge me.
‘Which makes Richard our brother-in-law,’ Erin added, following my lead.
The receptionist flashed Erin a look. ‘But you just said…’
We both stood firm, maintaining our position for Joyce’s sake.
The receptionist shook her head and sighed. ‘You know what, forget it. I’m not paid enough to deal with this.’ She indicated the waiting area. ‘Take a seat and someone will come and speak to you.’ She picked up her phone. ‘I’ll let yoursisterknow you’re here.’
The waiting area was packed with casualties and there being no seats left, Erin and I stood off to one side. The place reeked of disinfectant and, thanks to the inebriated brawlers in attendance, alcohol. I glanced around, squirming at the blood that seeped through the bandage on a teenage boy’s raised hand. My heart went out to a little girl who, pink and sweating, struggled to breathe as she lay against her mother’s chest. There were people wearing makeshift slings while others propped up swollen ankles or sported facial cuts and bruises.
Some, suffering invisible injuries or simply awaiting news like Erin and me, scrolled through their phones. A drunk in the corner burst into song, treating everyone present to a rendition of The Pogues’sFairytale of New York.
