Me and Mr Jones (25 page)

The longest minute in the history of all time ticked slowly around and neither girl returned. Izzy was becoming deranged with agitation. Where were they? Her mind raced with frightening images: Hazel bursting through the hospital and outside, into the road. Hazel falling over, hurting herself, becoming lost. Willow searching for her, tears pouring down her little face . . .

‘Nurse?’ she called out wildly, her heart thundering. ‘Is anybody there?’

Nobody came. It was no good, she couldn’t wait a second longer. She had to go looking for them, broken leg or not.

Gritting her teeth and ignoring all the doctor’s instructions about keeping immobile, she gingerly tried to lever her foot off the bed . . . then yelped with the sudden roaring agony of her injury.

‘What are you
doing
?’ exclaimed a nurse, rushing in and just preventing Izzy from toppling onto the floor.

‘I’m sorry, I . . .’ gabbled Izzy, then heard the sound of voices: Alicia and the girls, thank
God.
She leaned back against the pillows, limp with relief, no longer caring about the throbbing, angry pains shooting through her leg. ‘Oh,
girls
,’ she cried, as they returned through the curtains, Hazel red-faced and wild-eyed, Willow looking wobbly with shock. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry I had to tell you, I wish it wasn’t true.’

‘I think that’s perhaps enough excitement for today,’ the nurse said briskly, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced from Izzy’s tear-streaked face to her daughters. ‘For everyone.’

‘They’ll be fine with me,’ Alicia assured Izzy. ‘Girls, let’s go back and have some tea, shall we? We’ll come and see Mummy again tomorrow.’

Izzy reached out for a cuddle, but only Willow came and let herself be hugged. She wept into Izzy’s shoulder and her body shook with emotion. ‘It’ll be all right,’ Izzy murmured, stroking her hair. ‘You won’t feel like this forever.’

‘I don’t want him to be dead,’ Willow sobbed.

‘I know, love. I don’t either. We’ll do something extra-special to remember him when I’m out of here,’ she said desperately. ‘Something lovely, like – we’ll plant a tree, or we’ll make a beautiful memory book or . . .’

Willow nodded. ‘But, Mum, part of me is really sad, but part of me is—’ She broke off into fresh sobs, not able to finish her sentence.

Izzy held her close, completely understanding her confusion. ‘Me too,’ she said, choking on the words. ‘Me too. But we’ll just remember the good bits, yeah? We’ll remember all the happy times.’

Hazel would not be hugged. She held herself defiantly, not even looking at Izzy. It was obvious who she blamed for Gary’s death.

Alicia leaned over and gave Izzy a kiss. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘Thanks,’ Izzy replied dully, but oh, how it hurt to see her girls walk away, so distressed, with her unable to follow. It went against every maternal instinct, staying put when all she wanted was to comfort them, to make everything better.

It was only after they’d gone that she remembered what Willow had said about Alicia’s aborted trip to Paris. She hadn’t even apologized for ruining her plans.

I’ll make it up to her
, she vowed fiercely.
I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to her
, and
the girls. I’ll put everything straight once I’m out of here.

Izzy fell into an uneasy doze, drifting from one troubled dream to another. The nurses were monitoring her hourly, shining lights into her eyes and checking her temperature and blood pressure in case of any complications arising from the bump on her head. She woke with a jerk to find Charlie Jones sitting next to her bed, and blinked groggily, wondering if this was still part of the dream. Then he spoke.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

She struggled to a sitting position. ‘Well, I’ve been better.’

‘What a fucking nightmare,’ he said, his eyes soft. ‘I can’t imagine—’ He broke off, shaking his head.

I can’t imagine what it’s like being such a screw-up.
Tears welled in her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and she dashed them away defensively. ‘It’s okay,’ she said.

This was patently untrue, but he was kind enough not to argue. ‘So, do I get to write rude messages on your plaster then?’ he asked, indicating her enormous white cast. He winked. ‘I could really embarrass you, couldn’t I? Shock the doctors and nurses with some choice language, get them all talking about you behind your back.
Have you SEEN what’s written on her cast? Seemed such a nice girl, as well
.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d better just point out that I could probably kick
really
hard, now I’ve got this thing on,’ she replied. ‘And a dancer’s kick . . .’ She took a sharp intake of breath and shook her head. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to experience one of
those
.’

He grinned, the dimple flashing in his cheek. ‘Ah, then I’ll just have to find a spot where you won’t actually be able to
read
what I put, where only the doctors will be able to see it.’ He fished in a battered rucksack and withdrew a pen, then pretended to write with it in mid-air. ‘Izzy smells . . .’

She laughed, a proper gurgling laugh. It was the first real laugh she’d had in days. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned, grabbing one of the satsumas that Alicia had brought in for her. ‘I have missiles and I’m not afraid to use them.’

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Whoa!’ he yelped, feigning alarm. ‘Now you’re frightening me.’ He leaned back in the plastic chair and put his arms behind his head, as if sunning himself on a beach. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Do you come here often?’

‘Oh, shut up, Charlie.’

‘Because, I’ve got to say, you are looking
hot
in that nightie.’

‘Really.’ She struggled to suppress a smile. Alicia’s nightie was not exactly her style, it had to be said. It was on the voluminous side, and rather tired, with loose threads hanging from the sleeves and bobbly fabric where it had been washed so many times. Still, it was way better than the hospital gown they’d first put her in at least.

‘You know it, girlfriend. Winceyette is so this season. And—’

‘Winceyette? Where did you get that from?’

‘Alicia, at a guess.’

She pulled a face. ‘I’ll winceyette you in a minute,’ she warned. ‘And don’t you dare be mean about Alicia.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘Or her nightwear.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of that, either. Seriously. It’d be a scary dream. More like a nightmare.’

‘Shut up, Charlie.’

‘Although she does make a bloody good pie, Alicia, I’ll give her that,’ he said, as if pie-making was the most important criterion when judging a person’s worth. ‘Her pastry’s better than her choice of nightwear, that’s for sure.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten that spaghetti bolognese you made me the other week. No need for jealousy, all right?’

Izzy shut her eyes briefly. Charlie was exhausting. ‘Well, she’s a total goddess as far as I’m concerned,’ she replied after a moment. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what I’d have done without her the last few days. I’ve got no one else.’

‘You’ve got me,’ he offered.

‘Thanks,’ she replied after a moment, trying not to sound too doubtful.

He laughed. ‘
Really
. I know you might think I’m a flake or, I don’t know, a loser.’

‘I don’t,’ she said, even though this wasn’t strictly accurate.

‘And you’ve probably heard all sorts of stories about me being a failure or an idiot, or someone who’s never been able to commit to anyone else.’

‘Yeah, loads. It’s all anyone can talk about.’

‘Well, I’m afraid it’s all true,’ he said, wrinkling his nose. ‘I’ve been a bit of a twat, if I’m honest, lost the plot a few times, been skint, been in trouble, been called all the names under the sun by various women.’

‘You’re really selling yourself to me.’

‘But I’m not a bad person,’ he went on earnestly. ‘I’m a good friend. I’m loyal, and if I say I’m going to help, I won’t let you down.’

‘Really.’ She couldn’t even be bothered to make it a question.

‘Seriously. I want us to be friends. I like you, and I like your kids. And if you want anything, I swear I’ll help out if I can.’

‘Thank you.’

‘That wasn’t a sleazy come-on, by the way,’ he put in quickly. ‘I’m not trying to hit on you, while you’re trapped in a hospital bed. Although it is tempting, I must say.’

‘Thank God for that,’ she said. ‘Or I’d have to press my emergency button and get you manhandled out of here.’ She smiled. ‘Cheers, though. I could do with someone to carry my shopping for me now.’

‘Anything.’

‘And do the hoovering and make dinner, and iron the school uniform and help with the homework and . . .’

‘Yep, got it, on the case.’

She laughed. ‘Charlie, I’m joking,’ she said. ‘But thanks anyway.’

He leaned forward, his eyes bright. ‘Ah, but I’m not joking, so there you go. Think of me as your new man-slave, at your beck and call.’

‘What about your job?’ she reminded him. ‘For all you know, I might turn out to be an extremely demanding boss. What makes you think you’ll be able to help all those old ladies with their compost bags
and
be a man-slave?’

‘They’re cool at the garden centre,’ he told her. ‘I’m mates with the manager, so he’s been all right about me switching shifts around to help my dad out recently.’ He got to his feet suddenly. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. You look like you could do with some more beauty sleep, if I’m honest.’

‘Thanks a bunch. Visitors are meant to make patients feel better, not worse, remember.’

‘You know me. Can’t resist breaking the rules,’ he said. ‘See you, then, Hop-Along.’

‘Bye, Charlie.’

She leaned back on her pillows as he loped away. Despite what she’d told him, he
had
made her feel better. Obviously she still didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him – leopards never became tigers – but she couldn’t help liking him. Just a little bit.

Chapter Twenty-One

Alicia was starting to wonder if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. It had been second nature for her to take in Hazel and Willow in Izzy’s hour of need – any mother would have done the same – but really, she was completely out of her depth when it came to dealing with distraught, bereaved children, and felt as if she was floundering around like a toddler without armbands. Comfort zone? Where was that?

Poor Hazel had wept steadily for over two hours now, right from when they’d left the hospital in the early afternoon. Nothing could comfort her, not cuddles or chocolate brownies or unlimited goes on
Mario Kart
. Alicia was struggling to know what to try next. Was the child hysterical? Her own three had never been given to such fits of torment or passion; they were all stoic plod-alongs like her and Hugh. The wailing and sobbing bounced off the walls, a recurring accusation of Alicia’s uselessness.

Willow, meanwhile, was white-faced and seemed to have withdrawn completely from the world, replying only in monosyllables whenever anyone tried to engage her in conversation. She was perched on the sofa, knees up, arms wrapped around her legs, as if attempting to make herself as small as possible.

Hugh had vanished off to the gym, of course, the minute she walked into the house, weeping children in tow. ‘No, wait,’ she protested, but he’d gone, his sports bag flashing past before she could stop him. Surprise, surprise. He was even worse at dealing with people’s emotions than she was. The merest whiff of tears and he was haring for the hills, or the bench press in his case. He seemed to be spending more time at the gym than at home, recently.

Meanwhile, the misery had seeped through to Matilda, who drooped mournfully about the house, her valiant attempts at friendship and suggestions to play all having been rejected. The boys had got the best idea; they’d escaped outside and were currently skateboarding up and down the street, a pastime that invariably set Alicia’s nerves on edge. Today, for once, it was the lesser of two evils.

To top it all off, Lilian had just telephoned, asking querulously if Alicia would mind popping out to the supermarket for her – only she had one of her heads coming on, and would like to go back to bed.

Wouldn’t we all, Lilian
, Alicia thought savagely, jotting down the list of shopping – at least thirty things, several with detailed instructions attached (‘Don’t get it from the chiller, make sure you ask the butcher at the deli to cut you some fresh,’ for example, when it came to the stewing steak. ‘And watch he doesn’t put his finger on the scales while he’s weighing it.’)

‘It’s lucky you’re around to have the children after all,’ Lilian said in a long-suffering voice. ‘I don’t think I’d have been up to it today. You know how I get with my bad heads.’

Before Alicia could query this – what did she mean, having the children today? That had never been the plan! – the line was cut off with a click. ‘Thank you very much, Alicia,’ she muttered waspishly to herself. ‘Very kind of you to give up your Saturday afternoon on my behalf. It’s not like you’ve got anything else to do. How ever would I manage without you?’