My One Month Marriage

by Low, Shari

  ‘Don’t be daft. That’s what aunties are for. Wait to see if you’re quite so grateful when I’m his go-to person for sneaking him into nightclubs when he’s sixteen.’ She disentangled herself. ‘Right, enough of the mushy stuff. What’s happening here today and what do you need me to get started with? Oh, and I need to be away by 1.30 p.m. or Marina will most likely storm the building because my lateness is disrupting her schedule.’

  Kay raised one eyebrow. ‘You know, I’m absolutely convinced that she has no genetic link to you.’

  ‘Me too,’ Yvie agreed, with mock seriousness. ‘There’s no way I can be related to someone with that level of self-assurance and those organisational skills. Scientists should study us. We’re an aberration.’

  Kay paused for a second and Yvie knew exactly what she was going to say before it came out of her mouth. ‘And is… Zoe going? With Ned?’

  A red rash of mortification began to crawl up Yvie’s neck, but before she could answer, she was saved by the… chicken.

  ‘Dear God, what is that?’ she gasped, as an apparition slowly came down the corridor towards her.

  It was huge. It was yellow. It moved. It was… pushing a mop bucket.

  ‘Is that Jean in a chicken costume?’

  Kay nodded with complete nonchalance, as if the ward cleaner showing up to work in a chicken outfit was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. ‘Yup. She’s going straight to an Easter party for her 231 grandkids, so she thought she’d come dressed and ready.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ Yvie said, deadpan. Jean had been the head cleaner on the ward since before any of them worked there, and they all adored the very bones of her. Although the grandchildren tally was slightly exaggerated, they’d celebrated with her when yet another one of her brood added to their numbers. They were at seven children, twenty-one grandchildren and nineteen great-grandchildren so far. Jean was concerned that if they had many more, they wouldn’t all fit in the fifty seater coach they hired for day trips.

  ‘All right, my love?’ Big Bird asked with a wink as she glided past them with the mop bucket.

  ‘In case you’re in any doubt, I bloody love you, Jean,’ Yvie replied, giggling, earning a shake of yellow tail feathers in return.

  ‘Okay, where were we?’ Kay said, focusing back on the clipboard. To Yvie’s relief, Kay didn’t repeat the question about Zoe and Ned, and instead switched back to work stuff. ‘Oh yep. Another one of your favourites is back in. Had a fall yesterday. Nothing serious, but we’re keeping her for a couple of days for observation.’

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Look behind you.’

  Yvie turned, peered through the window into Room 1, a one bed unit that they used to assess new arrivals, and immediately bolted straight for the door. Sitting up in her bed, wearing pyjamas that pronounced she was, ’50% woman, 50% angel, 100% adorable,’ Babs hooted with laughter at the sight of her.

  ‘Babs! Oh, it’s lovely to see you. I mean, I’m obviously sorry about your fall, but if it’s any consolation you’re looking smashing.’

  They both knew it wasn’t true. Babs had a furious bruise on one side of her cheek and a bandage around her head, its shape indicating that she had a large pad attached to the back of her skull. Her spirits and her sense of humour did, however, appear unscathed.

  ‘Aye, I was missing you, so I just did a wee bit of impromptu gymnastics to get me back in to see you all for a couple of days.’

  Yvie reached over and squeezed her hand, careful not to disturb the IV drip attached to her arm. ‘Well, we’ll take good care of you, I promise.’

  ‘I believe that’s the standard we aspire to for all our patients, Nurse Danton?’ Yvie felt her teeth grind together at the facetious tone deployed by Dr Seth Bloody McGonigle, arrogant twat, as he came through the door.

  ‘Of course it is,’ she answered with sugary sweetness. ‘Thank you for reminding me.’

  Babs, however, was not singing off the same song sheet. ‘Well, someone has his boxers in a twist this morning, doesn’t he?’ she teased.

  Dr McGonigle froze as Yvie tightened her lips as much as possible, determined to prevent herself from laughing or chirping in on the conversation. Either option would no doubt lead straight to a summons from Human Resources.

  To make it worse, Babs wasn’t finished. ‘Did someone steal the blueberries out of yer muffin, buttercup?’

  As Yvie turned to see his reaction, she felt Babs’ hand tighten on hers. Dr McGonigle’s surprise was written all over his face. Then several things happened at once. Babs’ hand suddenly went limp and she emitted a strange, low, moaning sound. Dr McGonigle’s expression immediately changed to one of confusion, as Yvie whipped her head round, saw that Babs’ head had slumped to the side and she’d lost consciousness. Alarms sounded from the heart-rate monitor that was connected to her finger, indicating that Babs had no pulse. A light flashed above her bed. Her jaw slipped to one side as her face sagged, her body no longer breathing.

  ‘Babs!’ Yvie immediately sprang into action, flattening the bed, checking the stats, then calling for a crash cart while instinctively running through CRP drills and then starting compressions to Babs’ heart. ‘Come on, Babs. Come on,’ she begged with every push.

  Kay came running in, pushing the cart. Dr McGonigle immediately ripped open Babs’ pyjama top, then placed the electrode pads in position, one near her right shoulder and the other beneath the lower left side of her chest. ‘Clear,’ he said forcefully.

  Yvie lifted her hands, all of them on automatic now, their training dictating their actions. But that didn’t stop Yvie’s heart from shredding with every second that passed, every moment that Babs lay there unresponsive.

  There was a commotion at the door as the emergency cardio team, specialists activated by pagers that responded to code blues everywhere in the hospital, stormed into the room. Seth McGonigle didn’t even glance at them as he spat out a swift but comprehensive rundown of the situation. ‘Mrs Barbara Welsh, admitted last night to A&E, transferred to this ward for observation, head injury, scanned at midnight, no issues on CT…’

  On he went, as the defibrillator gave another shock to Babs’ heart. No change. Still flatline.

  The crash team joined in the efforts. Injecting, massaging, reshocking.

  Yvie stood back, let them work, her eyes never leaving Babs’ face.

  She was gone. She could see it. And, twenty minutes later, the lead medic on the crash team acknowledged it too.

  Time of death. 11.05 a.m.

  One of the other nurses, a seasoned professional from the heart ward, stepped closer to Babs and reached for the electrode nearest to her.

  Yvie put her hand out and stopped her. ‘I’d like to do it,’ she said quietly.

  The other nurse recognised her feelings immediately, like some subliminal code was passed between them. This was more than just a patient. This was personal.

  As the team left, Yvie kept her glance averted, unwilling to share the tears that were pooling in her lower lids. Not the kind of reaction that would be expected of an impartial nurse, someone who’d seen death many times in her career in geriatrics. But sometimes… sometimes it was just more than losing a patient. Babs had been in and out the ward many times over the years and she was so much more than a number.

  ‘I’ll go and call the family,’ Kay said softly. ‘You sure you’ve got this? I can do it.’

  Yvie shook her head, her gaze still on Babs’ face, settled now into an expression that looked almost peaceful.

  ‘No, I want to,’ Yvie murmured. ‘But thanks.’

  Key left the stillness of the room.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The sound of Seth McGonigle’s voice made Yvie start. She hadn’t realised he was still there, standing by the door.

  No words would come, but she thanked him with a nod.

  A sudden thought. This was so Babs – going out while delivering top-grade cheek to someone in a position of authority. A tear fell now as Seth M
cGonigle left and Yvie closed the curtains, to give Babs privacy. The family would be notified. They might want to come in to see her. It was Yvie’s job to make Babs and the scene around her look as peaceful as possible.

  She began her work, clearing up the room, removing every trace of the chaos that had torn through there. Order restored, she changed Babs into the fresh pyjamas that Kay had brought in and left on the end of the bed, before letting Yvie know that Babs’ daughter was on her way. Finally, she removed the bandage on her head, cleaned the wounds and the hair around it, then gently rested Babs back on the pillow, before taking a paddle brush from the top of the bedside table and brushing her silver hair the way she liked it, the same way she’d done every day for months during Babs’ previous stay.

  The falling tears didn’t make a sound as they landed on the clean new crisp white sheet. ‘Go easy, Babs. We’ll miss you,’ she whispered, stroking her face and then squeezing her hand one more time.

  By the time Babs’ heartbroken daughter, Pat, arrived, her mum looked serene, with even the bruising on her cheek paling so that, in the dim morning light, it was now barely visible.

  There was no mistaking that this was Babs’ daughter. In her fifties, she had the same ruddy cheeks, the same silver, curly hair and the same cackle of a laugh that had once filled the corridors of this hospital. Today, there was no laughter.

  ‘Oh, Yvie, I can’t believe it. All those months she was in here… I thought we were in the clear.’ Standing at the end of the bed, Pat’s voice was muffled through the hand that was clasped to her mouth. ‘She’s always been so bloody tough.’

  Instinctively, Yvie wrapped her arms around her. Even through the thick wool of her winter coat, Yvie could feel her trembling. ‘I know, Pat. I’m so sorry. She was one of a kind, she really was.’

  Pat pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

  ‘I’ll leave you alone for a little while. Kay and I will be just outside at the nursing station if you need us.’

  She was almost out of the door when Pat replied. ‘Thanks, Yvie. For everything. You were her favourite, you know. She never stopped going on about how lovely you are. And my mother wasn’t a woman to give out compliments easily,’ she added with a rueful smile.

  ‘It was my pleasure, Pat. I’m so glad I got to meet her and spend time with her.’

  Every word was meant.

  Kay glanced up from the desk as Yvie approached and her expression immediately softened. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Just going to take this lot to the laundry, then wash up.’

  ‘It’s almost one o’clock, love. Just you head off. Are you sure you’re okay?’

  Yvie nodded. There was nothing she needed more than to get out of there.

  ‘Thanks, Kay. If you need me to come back in later, just give me a call.’

  Kay came round to the front of the desk and hugged her. ‘I won’t. But I will call to see how you’re doing. Love you.’

  ‘Love you, too.’ The words came from somewhere inside her inner core of exhaustion, but, right then, she felt… nothing. Numb. Blank.

  In the empty staffroom, Yvie tried to lift the kettle and realised that her hands were shaking so much she could barely move it. A memory. A throwback to many years before. She clenched her eyes shut and rested her head against the cold white gloss of the upper kitchen units. It was coming back. The numbness was changing to something else entirely. She could feel it. Her breathing was accelerating, the tremors were moving from her hands, to her arms, to her shoulders, spreading through the channels of her nervous system. Her chest tightened, as if a tank was rolling on top of it, squeezing her heart, trying to force it to stop, but it kept fighting, each beat throwing a punch through the bones of her rib cage. The adrenaline took her legs now and they gave way, making her slump to the floor, gasping for breaths that wouldn’t come, sweat oozing from every pore. Eyes squeezed tight shut, she battled to stop the panic rising, using every tool she’d learned and taught to others. Like a drowning soul, she fought to breathe, to get control, to make it subside.

  It could have been seconds later or it could have been minutes, but just when it felt like it would end her, the waves eased back, allowing her to rise to the surface for just long enough to fill her lungs, before going down again, then back up, then again, quicker each time, more breath, her chest easing just enough to reclaim her life.

  When it finally ended, only anxiety remained. She didn’t understand. Her adolescence had been crippled by the panic attacks that had started after the worst time of her life. They’d finally subsided after a few years, with the help of counselling, and now they had suddenly gone from being a horrendous memory to present tense.

  Gradually, she pulled herself up, drank a glass of water, regained her equilibrium while checking her breathing, regulating it, steadying herself. A cup of tea. A seat. A few minutes of silence. Then, slowly, almost robotically, she dragged herself into the shower, where she scrubbed until physical pain replaced the void that had been there before.

  Outdoor clothes on, bag, boots. Out of the room. Down in the lift. Into a taxi, clear thoughts finally returning.

  Why?

  Why now?

  She’d lost patients before and been sad about their passing. True, Babs was someone she was particularly fond of and she’d died in the middle of a conversation with her, but why had that sparked a panic attack again after all these years? Or was there more to it? Did she just have too much on her mind? Had she let herself become emotionally drained and depleted her mental health reserves? She had no answers. Only questions and anxieties.

  A buzz on her phone. Marina.

  Can you make sure you’re here by 2 p.m.? We don’t have all day to wait. Things to do.

  Then another. Her mother.

  Thinking I’ll come home with you after lunch. Need someone to chat to about Derek. Can you pick up something nice for dinner?

  Then another. Zoe.

  Hey pumpkin, hope it’s an easy day at work. Are you on your way? I need some moral support here. And bring a blowtorch to defrost Verity. Ned could do with you being here too – he’s outnumbered by people he doesn’t know. Love you xx

  She wasn’t sure if it was the demands, the pressure, or the mention of Ned Merton, but her ribs began to contract inwards yet again, as her throat clenched, and her breaths came faster. She closed her eyes. Breathe. Just breathe. You’ve got this.

  Way too soon, the taxi was pulling up outside the hotel. The driver got an Easter bonus as she passed him a twenty quid note, too frazzled and anxious to wait for the change.

  In the lobby, she kept her head down, trying desperately to pull herself together. Calm. Be calm. Be steady.

  By the time the lift doors opened on the highest floor, she was on top of it again.

  Okay, she could do this. She could get through a lunch with her family and then head home and she’d find some excuse to put off her mum. Zoe would take her. She wouldn’t mind. Actually, she probably would, but Yvie knew she’d do it if she asked her.

  As the glass doors to the restaurant opened, they were hard to miss. ‘Yaaaay,’ went up a rising cheer at the sight of her, mainly from her mum, Oscar, Zoe and Ned. Marina’s pinched faced relaxed for a second, which was the closest to jubilation that she got these days.

  It took every ounce of strength in her body to slap on a beaming smile and greet everyone with some rapid-fire kiss blowing.

  ‘Happy Easter, you lovely lot!’ she proclaimed, forcing herself to sound as exuberant and enthusiastic as she always did.

  That was her. Good old Yvie. Always happy. Never a down day. It’s what was expected.

  Zoe had saved her a seat next to her, on the other side from Ned, and she slipped into it. After a moment, her sister eyed her quizzically. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, whispering so no one else at the table could overhear.

  ‘Absolutely fine,’ Yvie shot back, with what she hoped was a realistic smile. ‘Never better.’

&nb
sp; Zoe seemed convinced, so Yvie carried on, deciding to distract herself in the very best way she knew how.

  ‘Right, who’s got a menu? I’m famished.’

  15

  Marina – Easter Sunday. Three months after Zoe met Ned

  At last, Yvie had graced them with her presence! Just as well she was only five minutes late – any more than that and Marina would have insisted they start without her. Did none of these people have schedules? Things to do? She didn’t need anyone to answer that. Of course they didn’t – not on a Sunday, with a holiday the next day. Well, it wasn’t a holiday for her, Graham or the kids. He’d no doubt disappear into his office later, leaving her to work with Oscar for his grade five clarinet exam on Tuesday. Then, she’d promised to video Annabelle going through her latest routine. The Scottish Contemporary Dance Championships were just around the corner, so there was no time for a day off. If she was placed in the top three in her category, it would definitely make the instructors at the academy realise what a talent she was.

  Beside her, Graham was discussing wine choices with the waitress.

  ‘Yes, but is it full-bodied? I do find that Rioja can sometimes lack a bit of depth.’

  Her hackles began to rise. Could he not just order a bottle of bloody wine? Did he have to go through this whole godforsaken performance every time they went out? This was the guy who’d rebelled against his private-school background and drank cheap cider in dive bars with her during their first year at uni. Of course, his little mutiny didn’t last long. By year three, he was in the wine club and vice president of the Fine Dining Society, eating foie gras with his old chums in wood-panelled Edinburgh members’ clubs.

  ‘I’ll have a Bloody Mary,’ she interjected, gratified to see a flash of confusion cross his earnest brow. Christ, he was insufferable sometimes.