‘Can you lie down for me, Holly?’ the nurse says. ‘And pull your t-shirt up a little, please.’
I go through the motions. Flashbacks of the last scan we had parade across my mind like a torturous slideshow I can’t switch off. I remember the bubbles of excitement that fizzed through my veins as we waited to see our baby for the first time. When they told us how serious the baby’s malformations were, my excited bubbles popped so suddenly I could have sworn I heard the bang ringing in my ears. The memories of that day are all-consuming now, and as I feel Nate’s hand suddenly wrap around mine, I know he’s sharing my thoughts. I squeeze his hand back until my knuckles whiten and my hand shakes. Even though I know the news won’t change. Even though I know our baby is still sick, my heart skips a giddy beat knowing I get a little peek at what our baby is up to in my belly today.
‘This will be a little cold, sorry,’ the nurse says as she squeezes some jelly onto my belly.
The nurse flicks on the old monitor, and it comes to life impressively quick. She runs the transducer over my tiny bump, and instantly, our baby appears on the screen. With her free hand, she twists the monitor towards Nate and me.
‘Do you want to know the sex?’ she asks excitedly.
‘You can tell?’ I squeak.
‘Oh, I can definitely tell.’ She laughs. ‘This little one isn’t shy at all.’
I whip my head around to look over my shoulder at Nate. His eyes are wide and dancing with excitement. He wants to know. At our last scan, I hadn’t thought about our baby as a boy or a girl. I just thought about it as sick. My heart sinks as I realise how unfair that was to my child. I deprived them of an identity because I was reeling from the unexpected news. I thought about depriving them of an existence because I didn’t know if I could handle them being unwell. It’s not their fault they’re ill. It’s not mine. Or Nate’s. It’s no one’s fault. The sudden revelation is liberating, and my heart races like a runaway freight train.
Nate flashes a toothy grin and nods.
‘We’d love to know.’ I speak for both of us.
‘It’s a boy,’ the nurse says without any hesitation.
‘A boy,’ Nate echoes, his excited eyes glisten over.
A boy, I think silently. A little boy. I wonder what he will look like. I try to imagine Nate’s eyes coupled with my nose.
I’m drawn out of my daydream by the wand against my belly coming to a sudden stop. The nurse’s hand seems frozen suddenly, and I recognise this reaction. Her smile wipes, and her eyes narrow as she concentrates on the screen.
‘Nathan. Holly,’ she says softly as she pulls the wand away and offers me a large square of tissue paper to dry my tummy. ‘I’m going to see if one of the doctors is available to come have a look, okay?’
She turns off the monitor.
‘It’s okay,’ Nathan says. ‘This isn’t our first scan. We had a scan two weeks ago in Dublin.’
‘Oh.’ She swallows.
‘They told us our baby has a genetic disorder. Edwards Syndrome,’ I add, pulling myself upright as I struggle to wipe the stubborn gel off my skin. ‘They said his heart is affected, and he’s smaller than he should be. They told us there is nothing they can do.’
‘Did you have the test?’ she asks so softly I can barely hear her.
‘Yes.’ Nate nods. ‘The diagnosis is definite.’
‘Have you spoken with a counsellor?’ the nurse probes gently. ‘We have a resident counsellor here. He’s lovely. Or I can put you in touch with someone in Dublin, if that’s easier?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Thank you. I’d rather not talk about it.’
‘Talking helps, Holly,’ she continues. ‘I’m sure you must have lots of questions and concerns.’
‘I only had one question. Is there a cure? I got my answer. There is nothing else to discuss. Nothing any counsellor can say will save my baby. Nothing,’ I snap.
‘Okay,’ the nurse whispers. ‘Some people aren’t talkers.’ She presses her lips firmly together, and I can tell she has more to say. I hold my breath and sit and wait for her to try to sway my decision to talk to someone just as the nurse in Dublin did. And the doctor. And Nate. Nate tried the hardest to get me to open up, but I just locked myself in our bathroom and cried.
‘If you change your mind—’ she continues.
‘I won’t,’ I interrupt. ‘But thank you.’
My cheeks flush with frustration. Nate notices straight away and passes me the half-full bottle of water in his hand. I slug huge mouthfuls, draining the bottle completely.
I pass him back the empty bottle, grateful.
‘Is that why Holly’s blood pressure is high?’ Nate pulls himself up rigidly straight; I haven’t seen him look this serious since I showed him the two blue lines on the pregnancy test. ‘Because there’s something wrong with the baby?’
The nurse shakes her head. ‘It’s doubtful. Only the baby is affected by the chromosomal malformation. For you, Holly, the pregnancy should feel normal.’
‘This is my first baby,’ I explain. ‘I don’t know what normal feels like.’
‘Holly has been very upset since we found out. And I haven’t been as supportive as I should have been.’ Nate shuffles. ‘I didn’t take the news very well.’
‘We all react differently to unexpected news, Nathan. Finding out there are complications is not an easy thing for anyone to hear,’ the nurse says.
‘But it could cause high blood pressure, right?’ Nate says, clearly desperate for an answer that I don’t think he’ll get. ‘Stress causes all sorts of problems, doesn’t it?’
I knew from the moment we found out our baby was sick that Nate needed someone to blame. Now I know he’s blaming himself.
‘Stress is never good,’ the nurse says. ‘And while we can’t rule it out, I’d like to make sure nothing else is causing the spike.’
She scribbles something on the first page of the chart she created for me. She drops the pen into the top pocket of her scrubs and compensates for the sudden change in atmosphere with an overzealous smile. ‘Holly, let’s get you admitted.’
My eyes widen, and I back up on the bed until I hit my back off the wall. ‘Admitted?’
‘Just for observation,’ she assures. ‘Hopefully just for twenty-four hours.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t stay. I’m sorry. My grandmother is moving to a hospice today. I have to go with her.’
‘Is there another family member who could travel with her today?’ The nurse tilts her head to one side, and I think she can genuinely understand my predicament.
‘Yeah, of course. My mother is downstairs with her now. And my brother and my father. But I have to go too. She needs me too. We’re a really close family, you see.’
‘Holly.’ The nurse places her hands on my shoulders and steadies me. ‘I can’t force you to do anything. But I will be honest with you. Your blood pressure is worryingly high. I can’t in good conscience let you walk out of here without informing you that you need to be monitored.’
‘But she’s dying,’ I snap.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ The nurse lowers her head and her busy eyes round and soften. ‘Of course, the decision of what to do is yours, but what would your grandmother want you to do?’
I groan inwardly. Of course, Nana would want me to get a clean bill of health, but I’m not the one on my death bed. I glance at Nate. He’s pale, and dark, half-moons are embedded so deep under his eyes, he looks sicker than either Nana or me.
‘Holly, please?’ he says. ‘I’m worried.’
I turn back to the nurse and nod.
‘Good.’ She smiles. ‘I’ll drop this to admissions’—she waves the file—‘and we’ll have you sorted out in a jiffy.’
I swallow hard. I will stay for a while. Long enough to put Nate’s mind at ease, but I’m not staying all night. Not when I need that time to be beside Nana.
Twenty – Eight
Afternoon is creeping in, dragging with it
dark rain clouds that smear across the winter sun like a moody oil painting. I lie on top of a lumpy hospital bed and wonder how time could possibly move so slowly. I think of Nana lying downstairs in the same position. Every time she opens her eyes, all she sees is the same once white ceiling that’s turned an insipid yellowy-cream over time. No one should spend their last days lying flat on their back staring at a blank canvas. I think of Sketch. Nana’s words have helped me to feel I know a man I’ve never met. I wish he was here now. Here to paint a beautiful painting across the ceiling for Nana to look up at. A starry night sky would be perfect. Nana loves to gaze at the stars. I turn my head toward the window and sigh as moody clouds stare back at me. I hope they part tonight.
My phone beeps, announcing a text message, and pulls me out of my arty daydreaming. I called my mother earlier to let her know where I was. She insisted on coming up to check on me despite my reassurance I was fine. She stayed an hour or so, but I could sense her anxiety. She was so conflicted about whether to stay up here with me or go back down to Nana. Finally, I got the idea to pretend I was tired, and I needed a nap. My father seized the opportunity to convince her to go home to grab a shower and something to eat. She agreed on the condition that Ben took up vigil at Nana’s bedside.
Ben’s been sending me humorous updates ever since. I pull myself into an uncomfortable half-sitting position and pat the bedside table with my hand. My ring clinks off the screen of my phone, and I pick it up and read the latest text.
Nana sleeping
Hot nurse on the corridor
Maybe I should fake a heart attack
Ben’s texts are just about the only thing stopping me from tearing my bored skin off. I muffle my laugh and type my reply quickly.
Good luck with mouth to mouth
I try to find a heart attack emoji, but unsurprisingly, there isn’t one, so I settle for the smiley face with a bandage around its head and add that.
Let me know when Nana wakes xx
I hit send and drop my head back against the mound of fluffed pillows. The girl in the bed opposite is throwing me the bitchiest look. I can only guess it’s because I forgot to turn my sound off, and my phone is beeping every couple of seconds.
‘Some of us are trying to sleep,’ she eventually barks.
I want to snap back that it’s the middle of the day and some of us don’t want to be there at all. But instead, I throw her an apologetic smile, switch my phone to mute, and put it back down on the bedside table next to me.
I’ve only been confined to the ward for a couple of hours, but I’m already losing my mind. Nate popped out to the nearby shopping centre and picked me up some pyjamas, a toothbrush, and a few other overnight bits and pieces, but I haven’t taken them out of the multi-coloured rucksack they hide in. I just about agreed to take off my shoes, and that’s because Nate suggested I’d be more comfortable if I stretched my legs out on the bed with my feet up. But all I’ve done since is switch my attention between my phone and the ceiling. I haven’t told Nate I’m not staying all night yet. I’ll tell him when he comes back from the canteen. I sent him to get something to eat a while ago. He was hungry, but I also needed some space. He was fussing over me like a clucking hen. He means well, and I know he’s desperate to make up for pissing off to Ibiza, but if we move past the past couple of weeks, it won’t be because he fluffed my hospital pillow ten times a minute.
There are six beds on the ward and four are occupied. It’s a prenatal ward, so thankfully, there are no newborns here, but I can still hear their tiny cries coming from the nursery.
‘Jesus, they’re crying again,’ the girl in the bed opposite moans loudly. She rolls her eyes so dramatically I wonder if she makes herself dizzy.
‘Babies do that.’ One of the girls on the opposite side of the room laughs. ‘Would you listen to her,’ she adds, looking directly at me. ‘Thinks she’s going to give birth to a baby who doesn’t cry. Best of luck with that, love.’
Both girls glare at me, waiting for me to say something. I fold my arms across my chest and close my eyes. ‘At least you’ll have a baby. A healthy baby.’ I swallow.
I don’t mean to sound bitter and jealous, but there’s no hiding my envy in the tone of my voice.
‘Are you all right?’ the first girl says, sounding much softer and more approachable than she did a moment before.
‘No,’ I admit, opening my eyes and sitting up. ‘I’m not. I’m really not.’
‘Is it your baby?’ the second girl says, making her way around the end of her bed to come stand next to mine.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.’ I hop up off the bed and slide my shaking feet into my shoes.
‘Where are you going?’ the first girl says. ‘We were only having a little banter about the crying babies, you know. We really didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.’
I grab my phone off the bedside table and stuff it into my coat pocket. I slide my arms into the sleeve of my coat and zip it up. I’m instantly too hot.
‘Sit down,’ the second girl says, standing right next to me now. ‘You don’t look good. The nurse will be here soon. I don’t think you should go anywhere until she’s seen you.’
I bend down and gather the rucksack Nate bought earlier and clutch it close to my chest as I stand back up.
‘I have to go.’ I exhale sharply.
‘Press the bell,’ the girl beside me says to the other girl. ‘Call the nurse.’
I march towards the open double doors of the ward, pausing as I step onto the bright corridor. There are nurses, doctors, and patients scattered in the hall. Tiny beads of sweat gather at the base of my spine; I can feel them cling to the waistband of my oversized yoga pants. I feel like a kid trying to skip class without one of my teachers seeing. A nurse brushes past me, knocking her shoulder off mine.
‘Oh, sorry,’ she apologises as she hurries on.
I twist my head over my shoulder and watch her turn onto the ward I’ve just come out from. I pick up speed, walking as fast as I reasonably can without looking like I might break into a full-on sprint at any second. I know the other girls on the ward will be filling the nurse in on the story of my escape. I also know that if she does come looking for me, she can’t force me to stay. But my mind is so exhausted and overwhelmed; even the thought of any sort of confrontation right now makes me want to fall into a heap on the floor and cry.
I reach the daunting door at the end of the straight corridor. I push. Nothing. I try pulling on the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. There’s a buzzer on the wall, and I inhale sharply as I realise I have to press it for release. The sudden burst of hot air tickles my lungs, and I bend forward as a dry cough rips through my chest. I hit the buzzer and keep my head down. Someone says something through the intercom, and I manage, ‘Out please.’
The doors buzz and release. I charge through with my head down and my eyes staring at my toes.
‘Holly, there you are.’
‘Marcy.’ I jump.
‘I was just coming up to visit. I hear you’re staying for B&B,’ Marcy jokes lightly.
I run a flustered hand over my hair.
‘Watch out for the bacon. I hear it tastes like feet.’
I tug on the strap of the rucksack that I don’t remember slinging over my shoulder.
‘I ... I ...’ My face flushes, and I feel lightheaded; I cross my fingers that I won’t faint again. ‘I’m sorry, Marcy. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble asking your colleagues to take care of me, but I can’t stay.’
‘Holly,’ Marcy whispers my name gently like she might break into song. ‘I wasn’t expecting them to admit you. But they really don’t ask you to stay unless they’re concerned.’
‘I know,’ I stutter. ‘And any other time, I would stay. I’d be glad of the day off work, really. But I can’t stay tonight, Marcy. You understand, don’t you?’
‘Holly, your blood pressure ...’ Marcy reiterates her colleague’s concerns.
> I pull my phone out of my pocket suddenly and check the weather forecast. ‘Clear skies tonight,’ I announce.
Marcy stares at me in confusion.
‘Clear skies so we can see the stars,’ I explain.
Marcy presses the back of her hand against my forehead. ‘Holly, I think you might be running a fever.’
‘I’m not.’ I shake my head, realising I’m making no sense. ‘Nana loves the stars, you see. When I was a little girl, we used to sit out in the garden and stare up at the night sky, trying to find the brightest star. Nana said the angels watched down on us from the stars.’
‘Maybe they do.’ Marcy swallows, tears gathering in the corner of her kind eyes.
‘I don’t know,’ I sniffle. ‘It doesn’t even matter, really. It’s just nice to think about.’
‘Holly, can we get you back to bed now?’ Marcy calmly asks. ‘At least until the doctor has seen you?’
Marcy steps forward and tries to link her arm around mine, but I pull away, shaking.
‘What if tonight’s the night Nana gets her star?’ I whimper.
‘Oh, Holly.’ Marcy softens. ‘I know how hard this is.’
I point back towards the prenatal ward. ‘I can’t lie there and rest, knowing ...’ I choke on my words, and I have to take deep, even breaths before I can force out the rest of the sentence. ‘Knowing that ... knowing that she will leave me.’
‘Okay.’ Marcy nods.
‘Okay?’ I echo, raising a confused eyebrow.
‘Let’s go back downstairs,’ Marcy says. ‘But let’s do this properly. We’ll go back and explain that you’re leaving, and we’ll arrange an outpatient appointment for a follow-up instead, okay?’
I swallow hard. ‘Thank you.’
Twenty – Nine
‘Jesus, Holly. There you are,’ Nate says, finding Marcy and me standing outside Nana’s hospital room door. ‘I’ve been all over the goddamn hospital looking for you.’
When It Rains: The bittersweet romance you won't want to miss Page 21
