I am close to tears by the time I reach the hospital, and once inside, trying to get directions almost sends me over the edge. Eventually I locate Children’s Outpatients, am told that Willa is fine but ‘resting’ and that I will be able to see her as soon as she wakes. I am shown to a small room off a long corridor and informed that Willa’s ward is just round the corner and that a doctor will come and speak to me shortly. As soon as the nurse disappears, I burst back out again.
Rounding a corner, I recognize, down at the far end of another blindingly white corridor, a familiar figure in front of the brightly painted doors of the children’s ward. Head lowered, he is leaning forward on his hands, gripping the edge of a windowsill.
‘Lochie!’
He whirls round as if struck, straightens up slowly, then approaches me rapidly, raising his hands as if in surrender.
‘She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s absolutely fine – they gave her a sedative and gas and air for the pain and were able to push the bone straight back in. I’ve just seen her and she’s fast asleep but she looks completely fine. After they X-rayed her the second time, the doctors said they were certain there’d be no long-term damage – she won’t even need a plaster cast and her shoulder will be back to normal in a week or possibly even less! They said dislocated shoulders happen to children all the time, that it’s really quite common, they see it all the time, it’s nothing to worry about!’ He is speaking insanely fast, his eyes radiating a kind of frenzied optimism, looking at me with a frantic, almost pleading look as if expecting me to start jumping up and down in relief.
I stop dead, panting hard, brushing the stray wisps of hair back from my face, and stare at him.
‘She dislocated her shoulder?’ I gasp.
He flinches, as if stung by the words. ‘Yeah, but that’s all! Nothing else! They’ve X-rayed her and everything and—’
‘What happened?’
‘She just fell off the kitchen counter!’ He tries to touch me but I move out of the way. ‘Look, she’s fine, Maya, I’m telling you! There’s nothing broken: the bone just popped out of the shoulder socket. I know it sounds dramatic, but all they had to do was push it back in. They gave her gas and air so it wasn’t too – too painful, and – and now she’s just resting.’
His manic demeanour and rapid-fire speech is faintly horrifying. His hair is on end, as if he has been running his fingers through it and tugging it repeatedly, his face white, his school shirt hanging loose over his trousers, clinging to his skin in damp patches.
‘I want to see her—’
‘No!’ He catches me as I try to push past. ‘They want her to sleep off the sedative – they won’t let you in until she wakes up—’
‘I don’t give a shit! She’s my sister and she’s hurt and so I’m going in to see her and no one can stop me!’ I begin to shout.
But Lochan is forcibly restraining me and, to my astonishment, I suddenly find myself grappling with him in this long, bright, empty hospital corridor. For a moment I am almost tempted to kick him, but then I hear him gasp, ‘Don’t make a scene, you mustn’t make a scene. It’ll just make it worse.’
I fall back, breathing hard. ‘Make what worse? What are you talking about?’
He approaches me, his hands reaching for my shoulders, but I back away, refusing to be pacified by any more meaningless words of comfort. Lochan lets his arms fall with a hopeless, desperate look. ‘They want to see Mum. I told them that she was abroad on business, but they insisted on a number. So I gave them her mobile but it just went straight to voicemail—’
I pull my phone out. ‘I’ll call her at Dave’s. And I’ll try the pub and Dave’s mobile too—’
‘No.’ Lochan holds his hand up in a gesture of defeat. ‘She’s – she’s not there . . .’
I stare at him.
Lowering his arm, he swallows and walks slowly back towards the window. I notice that he’s limping. ‘She’s – she’s gone away with him. Just for a holiday, apparently. Somewhere in Devon, but Dave’s son doesn’t seem to know where. He just said he thought – he thought they’d be back on Sunday.’
I gape at him, horror coursing through my veins. ‘She’s gone for the whole week?’
‘Apparently. Luke didn’t seem to know – or care. And her phone’s been off for days. Either she forgot her charger or she’s switched it off deliberately.’ Lochan goes back to lean against the windowsill, as if the weight of his body is too great for his legs to bear. ‘I’ve been trying to call her about the bills. Yesterday after school I went round, and that’s when Luke told me. He’s staying in his dad’s flat with his girlfriend. I didn’t want to worry you—’
‘You had no right not to tell me!’
‘I know, I’m sorry, but I figured there was nothing we could do . . .’
‘So what now?’ I am no longer speaking in measured tones. A head pops out from a door further down and I try to reel myself in. ‘She has to stay in hospital until Mum comes to fetch her?’ I hiss.
‘No, no . . .’ He puts out a reassuring hand and again I dodge it. I’m furious at him for trying to shush me, for keeping this from me, for treating me like one of the children and just repeating that everything is going to be all right.
Before I have the chance to quiz him any more, a short, balding doctor comes out through the double doors, introduces himself to me as Dr Maguire and shows us back into the small room. We each take a seat on a spongy, low-slung chair and, holding up large X-rays, the doctor shows us the before and after pictures, explains the procedure that took place and what to expect next. He is cheerful and reassuring, echoes most of what Lochan has told me already and assures me that although Willa’s shoulder will be sore for a few days and she will have to wear a sling, it should be back to normal in a week. He also informs us that she is now awake and eating dinner and that we can take her home as soon as she is ready.
We can take her home. I feel myself go limp. We all stand up and Lochan thanks Dr Maguire, who smiles broadly, reiterates that we can take Willa home as soon as she’s ready, and then asks if it would be all right to send Mrs Leigh in now. Lochan puts his hand against the wall as if to steady himself and nods rapidly, chewing on his thumbnail as the doctor leaves.
‘Mrs Leigh?’ I turn to Lochan with a questioning frown.
He swings round and looks at me, breathing hard. ‘Don’t say anything. OK? Just don’t say anything.’ His voice is low and urgent. ‘Let me do the talking – we can’t risk contradicting each other. If she asks you anything, just go along with the usual business-trip story and tell her the truth – you had a late class and didn’t come home till after it had happened.’
I gaze at Lochan across the small room in bewilderment. ‘I thought you said they were fine about Mum.’