Shadow of the Mountain

by Mackenzie, Anna

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly ten. There.’ She stroked a strand of hair away from Geneva’s eyes, her fingers brisk and impersonal. ‘You’re going to be just fine,’ she said.

  The next time Geneva opened her eyes the room was bright with light and she looked around for the first time: green walls, floral curtains, trolley and cabinet with several vases of flowers. As she considered them, the door to her right swung open and her father came in.

  ‘Hi, Dad.’

  He smiled. ‘Awake at last! You look better.’

  So did he. Geneva watched as he settled into the chair beside her.

  ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were planning to sleep all day.’ He patted her hand. ‘How’re you feeling?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Good. The doctor will be here soon. Do you feel up to it?’

  She nodded. The conversation they’d had last night — or whenever it was — seemed to underpin everything. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.

  Her father smiled. ‘Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s all right now.’

  The specialist’s visit passed in a blur. Her father sat beside her, holding her hand while the man’s rich voice detailed injuries and outcomes.

  The operation had gone well: they’d placed a metal rod inside her femur and the bone would heal around it; there’d be no need for a cast. The stitches would be removed in a week or so but the rod and screws could probably stay in place permanently — they’d assess the situation in six weeks. Geneva darted a sideways look at her father and he reached to pat her arm.

  As for the broken ribs, the doctor continued, the best cure was rest. She’d been fortunate that there’d been no major internal damage, and being young and fit she should heal up nicely. He paused in his catalogue to offer a grim smile: laughing might hurt for a few weeks. Geneva didn’t feel much at risk — but she should also be wary of deep breaths, sudden movements, coughing. The ribs, he said, might prove a complication with crutches but the physio would have some recommendations for that, as well as for the sprained ankle. Geneva studied the pattern on his tie, a bold geometric in bright yellows and golds that didn’t quite work with his apricot shirt.

  ‘All in all, you’re a very lucky young lady,’ he finished, smoothing a hand across his thinning hair.

  Geneva was already tired of hearing it. ‘We’ll keep you in for a few more days so that we can monitor your progress but all going well, you’ll be home early next week. The physio had you up yesterday?’

  Geneva nodded. Walking, supported on both sides, to the toilet and back: the achievement of the decade. Her leg was a dull ache beneath the general sense of having been trampled by something at least the size and weight of an elephant.

  ‘They’ll sort you out with a programme that keeps you moving. You’ll need to be careful of the ribs but you’ll be surprised how quickly things improve — just as long as you don’t decide to take on any mountains!’ He grinned at his wit.

  As her father began asking questions, Geneva let her attention slide sideways, her eyes on the doctor’s fingers, steepled in a neat knot in front of the taut bulge of his belly.

  ‘How’re you feeling, love? You wore yourself out in physio, I heard.’ The nurse was middle-aged and motherly, with a broad, engaging smile. Geneva couldn’t remember seeing her before. She must have just come on shift. ‘You don’t want to be too hard on yourself, you know. You get there fastest if you let your body set the pace. It’s had a rough enough ride lately.’ She placed a practised hand around Geneva’s wrist, studied her charts, clipped a white peg on her thumb and made another note. ‘You slept right through lunch. Do you feel like something now? They’ve left it for you.’

  Geneva nodded and the nurse swung a trolley across the bed. There were sandwiches in a plastic pack and an unappetising mound of something that might have been fish in white sauce. ‘That’ll have gone a bit cold,’ the nurse added, eyeing the greyish gloop. ‘Would you like me to get it heated for you?’

  Geneva shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine with just the sandwiches, thanks.’

  ‘Righty-oh. You’ve got juice there, and I can probably rustle up a cup of tea. Did you know you’ve got a visitor waiting? One of the rescue team who was with you when they brought you in — I was on ICU rotation last Saturday night. Shall I send him in or do you want to finish your lunch first?’

  Geneva didn’t feel up to another of Keith’s lectures but hadn’t the energy to say so. She shrugged. When the nurse bustled out, Geneva lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She stayed that way even when she heard the door open and quietly close again.

  ‘Hospital food, eh?’ Her eyes flew open. It was Angus, not Keith, who stood beside the bed.

  She pushed herself up a little and glanced down at the tray. ‘Yeah … um … hi.’

  ‘How’re you feeling?’ Angus asked.

  ‘Okay, I guess. I did two whole lengths of the parallel bars this morning.’

  ‘Any somersaults?’

  ‘No. I’m working up to that: Monday, maybe.’

  They smiled at each other. ‘Grab a seat,’ she invited.

  The chair squeaked as Angus turned it to face the bed. ‘So how’s the leg? Your dad said they put a metal rod in.’

  Geneva nodded. ‘And screws. I’ll be setting off metal detectors at a hundred paces.’

  ‘That’ll get the airport terrorist team agitated.’

  ‘I think I might be grounded anyway.’

  ‘Me too. I’m on short rations and twenty lashes a day. Verbal only, but with Mum I’m not convinced it isn’t worse.’

  Geneva frowned. ‘Why? I mean, doesn’t she know you’re a hero? Keith said you saved my life.’

  Angus looked away, colour creeping up his cheeks. Geneva had had plenty of time to think about this conversation and there were a few things she planned to say. ‘Angus, I’m really grateful for what you did. For finding me, but for more than that too: for just being there.’

  He met her eyes briefly. ‘Hey, well, don’t make a habit of it, eh?’ he said lightly.

  She forged on. ‘I know what I did was totally dumb, and that it could have been much worse. I do know that. I knew it before I fell.’ She frowned. ‘Actually, it’s kind of weird that I fell. I mean, it wasn’t like I was pushing myself or anything. I just tripped.’

  ‘Yeah, I was wondering about that. You weren’t roped up.’

  ‘I’d just unclipped,’ Geneva said. ‘It was daft — the whole thing.’ She hesitated. ‘But for all that, even though it was stupid, I’m still glad I did it. It’s helped. I feel like I’ve got things in perspective now.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’

  She needed him to know that she wasn’t a complete fruit loop. She decided to stop babbling. ‘Hey, shouldn’t you be at school? It is Thursday, isn’t it? Don’t tell me I’ve lost another day!’

  One side of his mouth twitched. ‘No, it’s Thursday. I bunked. Compound grounding if the commandant finds out.’

  ‘Better than compound fracture,’ Geneva said, waving at her leg. ‘Your mum must think I’m a really bad influence.’ She’d intended it as a joke but Angus looked embarrassed. There was an awkward pause.

  ‘Angus?’ She waited till he met her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Stephen before. It’s just that it’s not that easy to talk about it. It’s less than a year since he died.’

  ‘Keith told me.’ He sounded non-committal.

  ‘I didn’t know Keith knew, not before I freaked out on that trip we did.’ She paused. ‘I meant to tell you before then — I nearly did, a couple of times, but it was never the right time. Then I was going to explain afterwards, that day I lost my temper. I’m sorry for that too,’ she added, scrupulously.

  ‘Actually, if we’re going back to that, I think it might be me that owes you an apology.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Jumping to conclusions.’

  Geneva frowned.

  ‘I di
dn’t realise Stephen was your brother,’ Angus added.

  Geneva studied her uneaten sandwich, its edges curled so that the grated carrot and lettuce hung limply within view. Her appetite had vanished.

  ‘Truce?’ Angus said at last.

  She nodded slowly. Angus leant forward, elbows on his knees. ‘Geneva, do you remember telling me how Stephen helped you on the mountain?’

  She stared at him. ‘I —’

  ‘Well, I figure he probably did.’

  She couldn’t think of a reply. The door opened and a nurse marched in, eyeing Angus beadily. ‘Are you family?’

  Angus stood up. ‘I’m just on my way,’ he said, his eyes swinging back to Geneva’s. ‘Take care, yeah? No more falling off mountains.’

  Geneva smiled. ‘I think my top effort at the moment would be falling off the bed.’

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend even that,’ the nurse said, moving the tray table aside and reaching for Geneva’s wrist.

  29.

  Geneva had a stream of visitors over the weekend. Dayna, Sonya, another couple of girls from school. Tink came late in the afternoon and chattered about nothing in particular. Her father came and went through most of Saturday, in addition to his regular evening appearances. On Sunday Julia arrived with the twins. She was still there when Miriam put her head around the door.

  ‘I’ve obviously got you at a busy time,’ she said with a brisk nod. ‘I won’t stop long. I just wanted to see how you were, and pass on our best wishes. I’m afraid Angus is grounded, or I’m sure he’d have come himself.’

  Geneva opened her mouth and shut it again. As she introduced the two women she could see them sizing each other up.

  ‘You must be very proud of Angus,’ Julia said. ‘We certainly owe him a great deal.’

  ‘Yes. Well, it’s good that it turned out no worse than it did. Clearly his actions weren’t well thought through but I hope he’ll be able to learn from that. We always have things to learn, don’t we?’ Her smile was brittle. ‘But now’s not the time to dwell on blame. Geneva, you just need to concentrate on getting body and spirit whole and healthy. I’m sure you won’t be in here long. What have the doctors said?’ she asked, with a smooth change of subject.

  Geneva avoided Julia’s eye. One of the twins chose that moment to discover the lever that raised and lowered the bed. Miriam left soon after.

  ‘I can’t stay much longer either,’ Julia said, ‘or the twins will wreak havoc. I’m amazed they’ve lasted this long.’

  ‘Julia, is Dad all right?’ Geneva asked.

  For the first time, her aunt hesitated. ‘He’s coping,’ she said at last.

  Geneva nodded, guilt rising like bile in her throat. ‘Mum hasn’t been in yet.’

  ‘No.’ Julia paused. ‘She’s taken it fairly hard, but that doesn’t mean she’s not thinking of you.’ She reached down to pull a twin from beneath the bed. ‘You know, it might be a good thing — bring it all to a head perhaps.’ With a quick smile, she shifted to a less serious mode. ‘We should have asked the redoubtable Miriam,’ she said. ‘She seems very sure of her ground.’

  Geneva made a face. ‘I don’t think I’m too popular there,’ she said.

  ‘Angus struck me as having a mind of his own — as well as excellent taste,’ Julia added, with a hearty smile. ‘Now, I’m off, before these boys get us all in trouble. Imagine them as teenagers!’ She shuddered.

  Alone again, Geneva studied the guilt that had been welling within her all week. She’d been avoiding it: avoiding acknowledging what her accident would have done to her mother. Now she faced it. Her mother had barely been getting by before, and this was just about the worst thing that could have happened. Geneva wasn’t sure what it meant, that her mother hadn’t been in to see her.

  ‘How’s my girl?’ her father asked when he called by that evening. She let him settle before she broached the subject.

  ‘Dad, how’s Mum?’

  He sighed, reaching a moment later to take hold of her hand. ‘You know she hasn’t been well,’ he began. Geneva wished she could take the question back. She felt cold. ‘She hasn’t been able to take it in properly.’ Her father squeezed her hand. ‘I took her to see Doctor Hansen and he talked us through a few options. We’ve already tried medication…’

  As her father’s voice trailed away, Geneva felt as if a boulder had lodged itself in her chest. She tightened her hold on his fingers. He cleared his throat. ‘What we’ve decided is that it would be best if your mother had some time out, so she’s gone into residential care for a while. I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you,’ he added.

  Geneva nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘It’s my fault,’ she began. Her father squeezed her hand in both of his.

  ‘No, love, it’s not. Your accident has been a catalyst, that’s all. And we needed to do something. It wasn’t working, the way things were. This is for the best.’

  ‘How long —?’ she asked.

  ‘A few months perhaps. We’ll go and see her as soon as you’re well enough. She can have visitors any time, and she looks better already. You’ll see.’

  Geneva swallowed. Her mother had been getting worse over the past few months, increasingly withdrawn and unfocussed. She thought about the incident when Angus visited.

  ‘Does she blame me?’ she asked miserably. ‘I mean, has she said —’

  ‘No one blames you!’ her father interrupted. ‘If anyone’s to blame, it’s me! I should have seen that you both needed more help than I could give. I haven’t been much good through any of this, as a father or a husband.’

  ‘That’s not true, Dad!’ The tears spilled over and began to dribble down her face. Her father leant close to hold her while she cried. When it was over he rested his forehead against hers. His cheeks were wet.

  ‘Let’s make a deal,’ he suggested. ‘No more talk of blame, okay?’

  Geneva nodded and wiped her nose on her hand. Her father reached into a pocket for a handkerchief. ‘You’d think they’d supply tissues in a place like this,’ he said, looking around.

  ‘There’s toilet paper in the loo,’ she said, mopping up with his hanky. Her father nodded and disappeared. She heard him honk noisily before he returned. ‘You’ll wake the neighbours,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘It never hurts to have a good clean out of the sinuses.’

  A bell rang in the corridor outside. ‘Time I was off,’ her father added. ‘Anything you’d like me to bring in tomorrow?’

  ‘Am I allowed a cellphone?’ she asked.

  30.

  Her father appeared the next afternoon with a fresh bunch of flowers and her mobile. She turned it on: no messages. ‘I might just get myself a coffee,’ he suggested. ‘Back in ten.’ She smiled gratefully at his tact, waiting till he was out the door before she sent a text.

  Bored rigid. Are you still grounded? G.

  When three hours had passed and there was still no reply, Geneva decided she was sick of taking the passive approach. Clearing her throat, she dialled Angus’s home number. She was surprised to discover how nervous she was as she counted the rings.

  ‘Miriam speaking.’

  Geneva swallowed. ‘Hello. Could I speak to Angus, please?’

  There was a pause. ‘He’s not here right now. Is that you, Geneva?’

  ‘Yes.’ She thought she could detect the same coolness she’d felt when Miriam visited the hospital — though perhaps it was just the woman’s professional tone — the one she reserved for dealing with loonies.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were out of hospital.’

  ‘I’m not. It’ll probably be another few days.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, I’ll let Angus know you called. He’s rather busy at school just now, but I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know you’re on the mend.’

  Geneva would have confirmed that she was but Miriam didn’t give her a chance. With a breezy goodbye she rang off, leaving Geneva staring at the phone in her hand. The woman had been
almost rude. Though perhaps she was imagining it — perhaps it was just about Angus being grounded. Somehow she didn’t think so.

  Tossing the phone into a drawer, Geneva wriggled against her pillows. She couldn’t get comfortable. Dayna had left her a couple of novels and she reached for the first, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts kept drifting to Angus. He hadn’t promised anything, but she’d hoped he might come and see her again over the weekend — or if he couldn’t get away, that he’d at least text. And Miriam: Geneva could understand why Miriam might be angry with her, but Angus wasn’t — was he? Maybe she’d read it wrong. Maybe Miriam was covering for him, to save him the embarrassment of giving her the flick himself.

  She tried to recall their exact conversation. She’d done most of the talking. What had he meant when he’d said she shouldn’t make a habit of it? Of what? Relying on him? And the bit about owing her an apology… Had she been the one jumping to conclusions this time? He hadn’t got closer than the bedside table and he hadn’t said anything about keeping in touch. That bit about how she came to fall — surely he didn’t think … And then there was that comment Miriam had made about blame.

  Geneva tossed the book onto the bedside table and kicked the sheet aside. She was sick of bed, sick of tubes and tray tables and doing what she was told. Clenching her teeth against the swift stab of pain in her chest, she twisted herself onto the side of the bed and reached for the crutches. Taking a slow breath, she moved her weight onto her good leg, braced herself and pushed up. She’d never done it without a nurse on hand but there was no reason why she shouldn’t: the physio had said gentle exercise was good.

  With cumbersome, three-legged steps she crossed the room. Using crutches hurt her ribs and she rested, leaning against the wall. The stitches up her thigh and buttock felt tight but at least the bruised ache was constant, unlike the unpredictable barbs in her chest. Adjusting the crutches, Geneva gritted her teeth and poked her head out the door. There was no one in sight. Shuffling awkwardly through the doorway she set off along the corridor. The TV lounge was at the far end. She had to stop once along the way, panting with exertion. Her side felt as if her ribs had been tied together, front and back; as if they’d stitched right through her by mistake and each clumping step threatened to tear it all loose. Her leg was throbbing. When she reached the lounge it was a relief to find it empty.