“Hey, what was I supposed to think?” he says defensively. “It was Christmas, they were gift-wrapped… it was like, Yes, Daniel, there is a Santa Claus—” He reaches for the Martini bottle and sloshes it into the cocktail shaker. “Strong? Extra strong?”
“Danny, I really have to make this phone call. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I unplug the phone and take it into the bedroom, then close the door and try to focus my thoughts again.
Right. I can do this. Calm and collected. I dial our home number and wait with slight dread as the ringing tone sounds.
“Hello?” comes a tinny-sounding voice.
“Hello?” I reply puzzledly. Even allowing for long distance, that’s not Mum’s voice.
“Becky! It’s Janice! How are you, love?”
This is bizarre. Did I dial next-door’s number by mistake?
“I’m… fine.”
“Oh, good! Now, while you’re on the phone, which do you prefer, Evian or Vittel?”
“Vittel,” I say automatically. “Janice—”
“Lovely. And for sparkling water? It’s only that a lot of people drink water these days, you know, what with being healthy… What do you think of Perrier?”
“I… I don’t know. Janice—” I take a deep breath. “Is Mum there?”
“Didn’t you know, love? Your parents have gone away! To the Lake District.”
I feel a plunge of frustration. How can I have forgotten about their trip to the Lake District?
“I’ve just popped in to see to the plants. If it’s an emergency I can look up the number they left—”
“No, it’s… it’s OK.”
My frustration has started to subside. Instead I’m feeing a tiny secret relief. This kind of lets me off the hook for the moment. I mean, it’s not my fault if they’re away, is it?
“Are you sure?” says Janice. “If it’s important, I can easily get the number…”
“No, honestly, it’s fine! Nothing important,” I hear myself saying. “Well, lovely to speak to you… bye then!” I thrust down the receiver, trembling slightly.
It’s only for a few more days. It won’t make any difference either way.
I walk back into the living room to find Danny reclining on the sofa, flipping channels.
“All OK?” he says, lifting his head.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s have that drink.”
“In the shaker,” he says, nodding his head toward the cabinet, just as the front door opens.
“But he didn’t,” I replied, and reached for his hand.
“But he could have.”
And when you think about it, it’s true. He could have. Every time I think about it I feel a horrible lurch in my tummy. I’ve never before known anyone close to me to be ill. I mean, there was my great-aunt Muriel, who had something wrong with her kidneys — but I only met her about twice. And all my grandparents are still alive except Grandpa Bloomwood, who died when I was two, so I never even knew him.
In fact, I’ve hardly ever been into a hospital before, unless you count ER and Terms of Endearment. As we walk along, past scary signs like “Oncology” and “Renal Unit,” I realize yet again how sheltered my life has been.
We arrive at room 465 and Luke stops.