When We Are Old (If We Were... Book 2)

by Anna Bloom

Except it wasn’t.

  His legs, covered in a splint, were raised off the bed. His face, oh God, his beautiful face was black and blue. Not a little bit, but all over. Eyes swollen, his nose covered in a bandage. The top of his head had been carefully wrapped in gauze and had a tube running out of it. Across the bruising, nestled an oxygen mask that almost hid him from view.

  “Don’t worry, come closer. It’s mainly bandaging from the surgery; he had a nasty head wound.” The nurse beckoned me forward, but my legs wouldn’t move. My boots stuck to the shiny floor. The mechanical sound of a pump filled the silent room.

  “He’s…” I didn’t have a suitable word. “He’s…”

  “Being in a car crash will do this to you. Would have been much worse if the airbag hadn’t deployed. Although I hear he might have been trying to save a dog, so,” she shrugged, “maybe he could look a little better.

  I thought of the boys waiting for Hugo. Imagine the pain they would be facing if neither of them came home.

  A low beep pulsed. “Why isn’t he breathing for himself?” Surely he should be bloody breathing for himself? The black dots danced in my line of sight again.

  “That’s quite normal.” She waved me forward again. Younger than Sarah, who’d wanted me to drink tea, she also had a face that I think might have been hired purely for breaking bad news to people. “When we put people into a coma like this, it makes their body hard to remember how to breathe.”

  “He can’t remember how to breathe?” Close to the bed, I stretched a hand for him, but then let it fall onto the sheet.

  He looked nowhere near as big as usual. Where life and vitality would normally pulse from him like an electrical current, I couldn’t feel anything. Like he wasn’t there.

  “It’s a technical thing. When we wake him up, his body will remember.” I knew she chose her language to make it simple for me.

  “Why’s he in the coma?”

  “It’s to stop the swelling.”

  “Oh.” I nodded a small bob of my head.

  “Take a seat, he’ll want to hear you.” Her gaze dropped to my finger where cotton threads wrapped half a story, half a dream. I shoved my hand under my thigh.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say anything.” She gave me a small smile. “I’ll leave you for a little while.”

  I almost called her to come back. The room might be small, but alone in it I began to shudder, my shoulders shaking.

  “Matthew,” I whispered his name and it stretched out of my soul in a slow lament. Holding my breath, I reached for his fingers and slipped mine around them. They were warm. Funny, I expected them to be cold. “I made a right scene. I passed out in the waiting room.”

  Foolishly, I expected him to answer.

  “It’s funny, because I’ve only ever passed out like that once or twice before.” Our time together seemed so short. It was only a few weeks since I’d found him on the train and told him I loved him.

  Why hadn’t I said it before?

  I’d wasted so much time.

  “I love you.” Leaning over, I pressed a kiss onto the small stretch of his cheek I could reach. His smell tickled my nose, no longer the fresh air and fabric softener scent I loved, but instead disinfectant and the sharp tang of blood. “I can’t believe this is happening, Matthew. I’ve waited all my life for you, and then what, you want to leave?”

  My words echoed in the small place, the rise and fall of the ventilator my only response.

  “I really bloody need you to wake up, Matthew.” I squeezed his fingers like I could make him flinch. “Because I’m pregnant.”

  Wake Up Calls

  Ronnie

  I sat and let the car idle as I looked through the windscreen of Angela’s crummy Scottish flat. Inside I burned on a pyre of devastation.

  My memories raw and alive.

  The past all too vivid now.

  With painful clarity I thought back to the day Paul died. Angela flying in from Scotland. Her tears and the wine she’d drunk.

  I shook my head trying to make sense of it all. It was only a couple of months ago that she’d been reminding me what a lucky escape I’d had from my 'bore of a marriage', as she’d called it, and not for the first time.

  Too late I realise that the boring bit was the fact I was married. She wouldn’t have cared who too, she still would have had them.

  Poor Matthew, lying in that bed. He’d always been so bloody honourable. The fact that he’d remained strong when my own husband hadn’t only reaffirmed what I’d always known. Matthew and I were simply meant to be. Even with him being in hospital, hooked up to that machine, I knew he’d come around. He had to, because it couldn’t end any other way. I knew it in my gut.

  Switching off the engine, I got out of the car and pulled the key I’d found from my pocket. As I walked into the flat I glanced up at the name above the door. Florence House.

  God, I’d always been so blind.

  Not anymore.

  Now I saw everything. Every single little damn thing.

  The key opened the door, I knew it would. The TV rumbled a low chatter in the front room. Ange curled up on the edge of the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand.

  “Ronnie? How did you get in? I didn’t leave the door open again did I?”

  I had nothing to say. No words that I could make come. They tangled in my chest just like they always had.

  So I held out the key on my palm. She looked at it and then her eyes widened. “Ronnie, it’s not like you think.”

  “Isn’t it, Florence?” My nerves kicked me into action. I took my anxiety, the silent thief of words and pushed it down into a deep, dark hole where I would never let it escape from again. “Matthew’s had an accident.”

  “I know. Hannah told me.”

  “But you haven’t come to help?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t know if I should.”

  “Did you know if you should sleep with my husband too?”

  “Well why not? You weren’t.”

  “Why have you always been like this? I thought you were my friend. I always thought you were on my side, but you fucked my husband and made passes at the love of my life. Why would you do that to me?"

  “Oh poor Ronnie. Life treats her so hard, having parents that care about her and want to look after her. Men that will do anything for her. She gets all shy and everyone lets her get away with everything.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you think?”

  She shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

  I had so much to say. For once the ribbon of words created fluid sentences in my brain, they flowed around, articulate and determined.

  I chose to say nothing at all.

  “Don’t come near myself and Hannah ever again.” I walked for the door, my legs tingling with adrenaline.

  “You can’t cope without me, Ronnie. You never have. Ever since I met you, you’ve needed me.”

  I turned and laughed, poised by the door.

  “No, Ange. It’s you who needed me. Look at you.”

  I shut her door behind me, leaving the past of regret behind me once and for all. My guilt washed away with the light rain that fell from the swollen sky and I got in the car ready to sit by Matthew's side until he came back to me.

  “Pancakes!” I hollered up the stairs, waiting for the pounding of feet to follow my call. Three days of the morning school run with Jack and Ewan, and I’d quickly learned they were a sucker for pancakes and syrup, not the ‘rabbit food’ Matthew gave them—their words not mine.

  Matthew's health food cupboards were beginning to look a little bit Ronnie’d. I’d put my stamp on the lavender themed house, but it came in the shape of sweets, popcorn, and just about every chocolate I could lay my hands on.

  And those were mainly for me.

  Stress eating for two.

  In the drawer which Matthew had cleared for me weeks before, sat a small plastic test with two blue lines. All I needed now was to be able to tel
l Matthew. Which felt like it may never happen.

  Jack ran down the stairs first, school shirt untucked. “Here, let me help.” He rolled his eyes—learned from Hannah—but stood still for my ministrations as I smartened him up. Last thing I needed was people talking about me on the school run. I think that had happened enough.

  Everyone knew about Matthew and Julie.

  It made me proud just how well thought of Matthew was. So many people had offered to help.

  “Okay, lunch is on the table. Can you put that and your book bag in your rucksack?” I patted his head before noticing a stray crumb stuck on his chin which I brushed off. “I’m going to get Ewan.”

  I paced up the stairs and knocked on his door. “You ready, mate?”

  He nodded, lips turned down.

  “Hey? What’s up?”

  “People at school are talking about Mam.” He dug his toe into the carpet, and I sat down next to him on the bed.

  “I’m sure they are.”

  “They are saying she tried to kill Dad. Is that right?”

  Bloody hell. I kind of wanted Lynn to deal with this.

  “No, I don’t think that’s the case at all.”

  “But their cars crashed.” He looked up at me, and he looked so much like Matthew for a moment, it caught my breath.

  “Yes, but I don’t think your mam was thinking very clearly that’s all. She was angry.”

  “About you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I really don’t know.” I think honesty is best at all times—apart from when a direct lie is necessary. “Do you blame me?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are we going to school? I might have a surprise for you afterwards.”

  “What is it?” He eyed me with valid suspicion.

  “How about you get through the day and then I'll pick you up and tell you.”

  “You’ll forget, Mam always forgets everything.”

  “Well I have a memory like an elephant, so there's little chance of that happening.”

  He laughed.

  “Hey, you better not be thinking my bum is as big as an elephant's.” I knocked his shoulder and feigned being wounded when he giggled and nodded. “I’m hurt, Ewan, really hurt.”

  I chuckled again and I thanked God for the sound.

  The last few days… well… odd didn’t quite cover them. I knew that if it hadn’t been for Hannah and the boys' attachment to her, they probably wouldn’t have stayed with me, but I was grateful for it all the same.

  “Right let’s get going. Sooner the day is done, the sooner you get your surprise.”

  Please God, let me have a surprise later, because I really didn’t think there’s enough ice-cream in the world to make this week much better.

  “Morning, Ronnie.” Sarah was back on the morning shift and she gave me a wave as I walked through the corridor to Matthew’s room. “Still upright?”

  “Morning.” I thrust the paper bag full of muffins on the nurses' station, casually sweeping my gaze over the white board behind the desk to check for Matthew’s name. “Hannah made some muffins.” I pointed to the bag. “Eat them at your own peril.”

  She chuckled, but my heart raced too fast to be able to join in with my lame ass joke. “How is he?”

  “Doctor will be along soon.”

  Gah. Why were they always so cagey?

  Sarah smiled. “But he’s okay. Today’s the day.”

  My stomach flipped like a pancake. Today was the day we’d find out if they’d managed to stave off the worst of the damage to Matthew’s brain. Broken legs could be fixed, walking would come back, but the head injury was a literal grey area that no one knew the outcome to.

  “Okay.” My voice wavered and I swallowed down a mouthful of sick. Who knew whether it was ‘I’ve got a secret baby in my tummy’ sick or ‘why won’t this nightmare go away’ sick? Either way I swallowed it down and took a sip of my decaf latte.

  “Go on in. I’ll be along in a minute and I think the doctor will be around early.”

  This was happening. Matthew would wake up today.

  I slipped into the room, the familiar press and whoosh of the ventilator making me at once sag a breath of relief, but at the same time ache deep down low in my gut.

  Perching on the chair, I picked up his fingers in mine as I examined his face. The bruising had smeared into yellow and purple streaks, but the swelling was definitely better. “Jack had a nightmare,” I said, keeping my tone light. “A Triceratops was chasing him down a ravine.”

  I smiled and brushed gently at his face as I recalled my middle of the night conversation with Jack.

  “Ewan decided this morning he thinks porridge is disgusting, but Hannah says it's more like the way I’ve been making it. Your mum said to put a pinch of salt in it. That can’t be right, can it, Matthew?” I gave him a pause to answer, which of course he didn’t. “Ma’s coming later to get Hannah back ready for school. I wish you were going to be around to watch her meet your mam for the first time. It seems like a big event; not sure I want to do it by myself.”

  Hell, I didn’t want to do any of this by myself that was for sure.

  I rubbed my thumb along the curve of his palm, the slightly rough edge to his skin imprinting itself in my memory bank… just in case… No. I couldn’t even think that way. Wouldn’t think that way.

  With my free hand, I swiped at my face, trying my absolute hardest not to give in to the bubble of emotion that threatened to envelop me and carry me off to a distant place where fear and regret ruled existence.

  When the door opened, I sat up straighter and sniffed hard.

  “Morning, Ronnie, love.” Lynn edged in, a giant bag of food supplies coming with her. She’d gone into survival overdrive the last four days, determined that by making sandwiches and feeding us all she could make everything better.

  “Here, I made you a smoked salmon bagel.” She rooted about in the bag, so she didn’t have to make eye contact with me, and then thrust a round parcel in my direction.

  “Thanks, Lynn.” I’d realised early on you couldn’t say no. The look on her face when she thought she couldn’t fix an issue with food was simply heart-breaking. It was better to pretend.

  “Your mam still coming tonight?” She smoothed down the already straight bedsheets.

  “Yep. She’s making a fuss about the flying, but I think she'll be okay.” I trailed off, struggling to see a way for Ma to fit into the Carlings' loud and brash existence. Eventually, I shrugged to myself. It would all come out in the wash as they said. As someone said, at some point.

  We both jumped as the door opened and Dr Metcalf walked though. “Morning, ladies.”

  Dr Metcalf had an amazing ability to make Lynn blush. True to form, her cheeks tinged pale pink.

  “We did early morning scans, everything looks good. No sign of any further intercranial swelling and Matthew’s blood pressure is nice and stable.”

  I held my breath, waiting for him to give me the golden ticket to my future I so desperately craved. Lynn reached for my hand and squeezed.

  “Healing is looking good; pupils are even and responsive." Dr Metcalf smiled at us both. “It all looks good. We are going to reduce the barbiturates this morning and should see some response by lunch.”

  Lynn looked at her bag of goodies. “I don’t think he’s going to wake up and ask for a sandwich,” I smiled at her.

  “You just never know with Matthew.” She shot me a pointed look and for the first time in days the intense band around my chest loosened a notch.

  “Hope you made it a cheese and pickle.” God, I ached to see him with his mug of builder’s tea in his hand—normal things that until they were stolen, you didn’t realise how essential they were.

  She peered at me over the edge of her glasses. “Of course, nothing but the best.”

  Dr Metcalf shook his head and flicked through Matthew’s notes hanging on the edge of his bed. “Sarah will be with you this morning. As soon as we see him r
esponding to the withdrawal of sedatives, we will ask you to leave the room so we can remove the ventilator. It can cause some distress if the patient wakes and it’s still in place.”

  I squeezed Matthew’s hand tighter. The thought of leaving while he came around made my skin chill with prickles of sweat.

  “In the meantime, keep talking to him. The more conscious he becomes, the more he will be in a dream state.”

  Lynn stood up and peered over Matthew. “Right, wake up. You’ve got a delivery of organic produce coming this afternoon and I’ve no idea where to put it.”

  I snorted a laugh and settled back in my chair, ready and willing to wait it out until my Matthew came back to me again.

  At half one he squeezed my hand, his fingers gripping mine until I put my head down on the bed next to his side and wept a great sweeping tide of relieved tears.

  “Please don’t ever leave me,” I whispered, to which he squeezed my fingers again and I knew that no matter what came next, what the world and life had to throw at us, I would always be with him, always the two of us together until death finally did do us part. But it wouldn’t be a demented ex-wife in a Range Rover who would separate us, it would be fate itself.

  Because Matthew was mine and I was his and nothing could tear us apart.

  “I’ve been waiting two bloody weeks to tell you I’m having your baby.” Tears rolled down my face, splashing onto the bed and creating puddles of relief on white cotton.

  His hand turned, palm up, and I slid mine into his, melding us together, forever.

  Two Months Later

  Matthew

  “So that’s it then?” Ryan studied the piece of paper containing my future.

  “Yep, I’m going back.”

  “And Ronnie still doesn’t know?” He shook his head. “How Ruth and Lennie haven’t spilled their guts over this one is beyond me. You’re going to be the oldest student on campus, and that’s not even thinking about the lack of sleep when the baby arrives.”

  I chuckled and glanced through the windscreen at the bright blue August sky. Even in Scotland the air rushed with a warm breeze, tantalising all the many things that were on the cusp of changing. “I only ever wanted to be an art teacher. If I don’t do it now, then when will I?”