Page 64 of The Shape of Your Heart
‘You can ask.’
‘Can I stay? It’s just for one night. I want my parents to know how pissed off I am.’
Against my better judgement, I say, ‘OK.’ Instantly I regret it. ‘But in the spare room.’ I pause. ‘Can I be honest with you?’
‘I’d expect no less,’ she says wryly.
But she needs to know how lucky she is. ‘Your parents have funded your lifestyle for as long as I’ve known you. Have you ever thanked them? Because if you haven’t, maybe you should. You’ve treated your salary like pocket money. It isn’t like that for most people. I don’t think you know how bloody lucky you are.’
I’m hoping she’s listening, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears.
‘Now you’ve said yes, I’m having a drink.’ Going to the fridge, she gets out the bottle of champagne.
Watching her, I feel myself tense. Once, I would have given in to her, shared the bottle of champagne before opening another, allowing myself to get drawn back in to her cat-and-mouse games, mildly flattered. But I have no desire to do that now. I feel nothing for her. It’s yet another example of how much I’ve changed.
23
CALLIE
The day before New Year’s Eve, there’s an atmosphere in the house I can’t put my finger on. A sense of expectancy, perhaps. The kind of hush that comes before something momentous happens. While Sasha’s in the study speaking to one of her clients and Rita goes for a run, I pull on my boots and go outside.
It’s the same out here. The air is cold and still. Even the birds are quieter than usual. Glancing down at the ground, I take in the first needle shoots of wild daffodils, the clusters of snowdrops that over the years have colonised the lawn. I hope whoever lives here next loves it as much as we have.
But as I walk across the grass, instead of savouring the peacefulness, the strangest sensation comes over me. I put it down to the thought that this is our last Christmas here, that this time next year, my parents will be living somewhere else. As long as my father is OK…
No sooner have I formed the thought than I’m distracted by a shout from Alice.
‘Callie… Quick… You need to come.’
As I run towards the house, my heart starts to race. I know why I’ve been feeling like this. Something’s terribly wrong. I throw the back door open just as Alice comes into the kitchen.
Her face is pale. ‘He’s almost certainly had another heart attack. I’ve called an ambulance. Mum and Sasha are with him… Where’s Rita?’
‘Gone for a run.’ I hurry towards the stairs.
‘I’ll call her. The ambulance should be with us in minutes. I’ll wait downstairs.’
Alice picks up her phone just as the back door opens and Rita comes in. Flushed from running, as she looks at our faces she instantly knows something’s up. Leaving Alice to explain, I hurry upstairs.
As I creep into our parents’ room, my stomach turns over as I take in my father, unconscious in bed. His face is grey, his breathing shallow. Beside him, Sasha’s face is ashen.
Tears fill my eyes as I crouch down next to the bed. ‘Hey, Dad… It’s me, Callie. I love you, Dad.’ I take one of his hands. ‘We all love you.’
‘I’ve been telling him.’ My mother’s voice is dry and husky, her eyes wide with fear.
Just as Rita comes into the bedroom, there’s the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside, then the front door opening; a brief hesitation before there are footsteps on the stairs. When the paramedics walk in, they’re calm and focussed, but there’s no hiding their sense of urgency as they check him out, wasting no time before gently moving him on to a stretcher and taking him to the hospital.
* * *
At the hospital, Christmas is forgotten as we wait, but Alice is right. After tests, the doctors establish he has indeed had another heart attack.
‘You should go home,’ my mother says quietly. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘We’re not going anywhere, Mum,’ Alice says immediately.
‘She’s right.’ Sasha crouches down next to Mum. ‘We’re staying.’
We sit in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. Now and then I glance at Mum. She’s always so organised, so matter-of-fact; but tonight it’s clear how frightened she is.
