Writing in the Sand by Helen Brandom

Author:Helen Brandom
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Usborne Publishing
Published: 2014-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

I’m back home. Alone – apart from Toffee, who’d like to go out. Sorry, boy, you’ll have to make do with the backyard. (I don’t dare leave the house in case there’s a call from the hospital.)

I jump as the phone rings. My ribcage squeezes inwards, but it’s only Lisa. Amazingly, she’s already been to see Mum. “I thought I’d go as soon as possible,” she says. “It must be good for her, mustn’t it, to know we care?”

“Absolutely! It’ll do her the world of good, knowing we’re both rooting for her.” I’m so relieved Lisa’s made this effort. “Was she awake?”

“Yeah.”

“And pleased to see you?”

“She didn’t talk a lot, but she smiled.” There’s a pause before she says, “By the way, did they say what’s wrong with her?”

“Yes – pancreatitis.”

“Is that serious?”

“Yes, Lisa, it is. That’s why she’s in the High Dependency Unit, with her own nurse.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, “there’s no need to get—”

“Get what?”

“Like you’re the only one who knows anything. I mean, I am your sister. Plus I’m older.”

There’s a lot I could say in reply to that. Instead, I say, “Sorry, Lisa, it’s been a difficult day.” I pause. “And don’t forget, if anyone brings it up – you live here with Mum and me.”

“For heaven’s sake, Amy—”

“It’s important.”

“Okay.”

And that’s the end of the conversation. I wait for a second, then she turns off her phone.

I stand in the kitchen, listening to the silence. It’s strange. Eerie. Usually at this time I’d be sorting out Mum’s medication, making sure her pills and capsules are in order. But I haven’t got them; the doctor wanted them taken with her to the hospital. I go upstairs to her room. I tidy stuff lying about and put her nightie from yesterday in the bathroom wash basket.

I go back to her room. Sit on her bed. Worry about her. And about Robbie. And the dreadful sadness of Mum not knowing she has a grandson. Of her and Mrs Kelly, sat in our kitchen – neither of them realizing the baby in the buggy has a mum and granny in the same room. Tears trickle down my face.

I’m still sat here – miserable – wishing for all sorts of things that can’t come true, when the phone rings in the kitchen.

I spring off the bed and dash downstairs. Oh God – is it the hospital?

I snatch up the phone. “Hello?”

I wait, listening to the sound of breathing. I know who it is before he speaks: “This is Shaun Baxter.”

Shaun Baxter. How many Shauns do I know? “Hi, Shaun—”

“Are we taking your mum to the beach tomorrow?”

“Listen, Shaun. She’s in hospital.”

He says nothing, but I can tell he’s still there. I say, “She was sick and I had to get the doctor. Next thing I know, he calls an ambulance and she’s in the General.”

“I’d best tell Mrs Kelly.” The phone goes down on a hard surface. I hear a baby crying in the background. Is it Robbie?

Mr Kelly comes to the phone.

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