Page 52 of The Flowers of Bay C
Violet turns her back to us, the rigid line of her shoulders a palpable statement of non-intent.
Jodie shrugs. ‘Ah, she’ll come round.’
‘I suppose I could manage,’ Amina says. Then her shoulders drop. ‘I mean, if it is okay, that I come with you?’
‘Don’t be so daft. Course you’re coming.’
Amina smiles, and her eyes light the whole room.
Violet sniffs.
Kat taps her finger against her lips. ‘Okay, so, say we can all get to the entrance and Kane brings Barbara in one of the hospital chairs. Where will he park? And how will he get Barbara in? Those chairs don’t collapse down, you know, and they’re heavy beasts.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Jodie says. ‘He’ll find a space. And even if he doesn’t, he’ll get us down there then go and get the van and bring it right to us. And he’s got a ramp thing. Stop stressing.’
‘I suppose that could work,’ Kat says, though her voice drips with misgiving. She sounds like she knows she should be the grown-up here, she’s the one in a position of authority, the sensible, clear-headed one. I can almost see the thoughts whizzing round her head, eyes flicking here and there as she computes the likelihood of this working. ‘It’s only a little trip. Hardly different to going to the Peace Garden, really. And they don’t actually mind if you go out of the hospital sometimes, you know.’
‘True,’ Jodie says, ‘I’ve been out for meals and stuff, when I couldn’t stand the grub here any longer.’
‘So it’s just like that, isn’t it?’
‘Exactly.’
But it’s not really just like that. When patients go off ward and off premises, they’re generally up to it, and they’re generally not confused eighty-seven-year-old ladies who might die any day. Perhaps if they’re with safe family members, but even then I can’t see Sister Harris complying.
‘Tomorrow, then?’ Jodie says, and gazes round the bay at each of us.
Nods. All nods, apart from Violet, who remains stiff and implacable, and Barbara who is fast asleep, dreaming of crashing waves and sand between her toes.
Chapter 16
Later in the day the bay is full of visitors. The hospital is buzzing with that Friday afternoon feel, patients being discharged before the weekend, doctors rushing round with their tablets and their bulging files. Everything has to get wrapped up on a Friday, because things shut down over the weekend, some things anyway. Patients still get admitted and diagnosed and treated. But everything else gets pared down, especially for patients like us who are almost ready for home. There’s less stress in the ward, less rushing from here to there with obs machines and drips and oxygen canisters. Perhaps that’s all going on in the other bays, but here we are ready for the relative calm of the weekend. Outside my window the sky is heavy, clouds like sheets all draped across the heavens in a hundred layers of white and grey.
Kat has five people around her bed, an older couple and two younger women, all leaning in and laughing uproariously, with Nate on the chair right next to her bed, holding her hand. ‘Oh, by the way, did you remember my coat?’ she says. ‘For tomorrow, I mean, for that little outing I told you about.’
Nate drags something out of a Tesco bag.
‘Nate!’ she says, rolling out the name and her eyes at the same time. ‘Seriously?’
‘What?’
‘It’s hardly my big winter coat, is it? Don’t think this is going to protect me from the November wind, do you? What are you like, bringing me a great boiling onesie for a hospital ward and a festival raincoat for a cold winter day?’
Nate scratches his head and casts his gaze over at the wall.
Kat grabs his hand. ‘You daft sod.’
He smiles like he knows a secret, and then picks up a corner of her dressing gown. ‘Can’t you go in this?’
‘I suppose.’
Jake has brought me some clothes in, but they’re not very suitable. He’s managed to unearth my baggiest pair of leggings, the ones with the waist that’s almost gone, prone to falling down whenever I walk more than two steps, and an old grey jumper that doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a while. They look like all my other clothes, tired and worn and greyed. ‘I didn’t know what to bring, Mum. I knew you’d want something warm, if you’re going outside.’
I haven’t told Jake anything much about our plans. I’ve just told him we’re planning a little wander out of the hospital grounds and so would prefer some outdoor clothes.
‘I brought this as well.’ He reaches into his rucksack and pulls out my black parka, and I sag with relief. ‘And these, for your feet.’
Ballet flats. Tiny, thin ballet flats. ‘Jake, I said my ankle boots.’
