by Emma Davies
Hannah turned back to look at her husband. ‘He’s only sixty-four,’ she said.
‘Then he has age on his side,’ replied Flora. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ She tried to smile, hating herself for resorting to platitudes, but that was what people did, didn’t they? When they didn’t know what to say.
A bark of laughter came from the other side of the room.
‘Well, honestly. That’s not going to help at all, Ned should—’
‘No, that’s a good thing,’ she interrupted before Hannah could intervene. ‘Fraser’s obviously feeling better, and that’s what we want. For him to be as relaxed as possible. Being stressed will do him no good at all.’
Hannah frowned, but even she could see the validity of Flora’s words.
‘So I thought we might pack a bag, just in case the paramedics want to admit him. Be prepared and all that.’ She gave an encouraging smile.
‘But you said yourself he’s obviously better, what point is there in being melodramatic?’
‘I said he’s feeling better, Hannah. That’s not quite the same thing. It doesn’t get past the fact that he’s just had quite a nasty turn and should the paramedics think he needs to go to hospital, they won’t want to wait while you rush around.’ She eyed Hannah’s expression. There was only one thing for it. ‘And I thought putting a few things together for Fraser might make you feel a little better – if you’re organised, I mean.’
It did the trick. The threat that the paramedics might possibly think Hannah disorganised had her out of the room in a flash, returning a moment later with an ancient holdall which she laid on the bed. Flora used the opportunity to go and stand beside Ned.
‘How are you feeling, Fraser?’ she asked. Five simple words that hovered in the air between them for a moment. There was a knowing in these words, a myriad of silent questions and statements which sat between her words and which at this moment only Fraser would understand. Are you in pain? Are you scared? You don’t have to even tell me, I’ll know. Don’t worry about Hannah, or Ned, I’ll look after them. And of course the most important of all: Don’t worry, I’ll keep your thoughts safe, I’ll tell no one unless you want me to.
And his reply, ‘Aye, not so bad,’ as his look held hers, which told her all she needed to know. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m terrified, I don’t want to admit this is even happening.
‘That’s good then,’ she replied, as brightly as she could. She rested her hand on Ned’s shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze and moved away. ‘I’ll just pop back downstairs for a minute.’
She didn’t want to admit what was happening either, because upstairs there were people who had far more reason to be anxious than she did, but she couldn’t ignore her thoughts, and she was thinking of herself when she shouldn’t be. She should be thinking about Ned and how he was feeling, thinking of Hannah and Fraser, offering support, yet the insistent whisper at the back of her mind was clamouring to be heard. Because whatever was happening to Fraser would affect them all, including her… It could change their lives forever.
She looked round the kitchen. How long would it be before the ambulance arrived? Maybe she could peel some potatoes for tea or make a start on the apple crumble, but almost as soon as the thought popped into her head she flung it away again. Ridiculous. The garden was now dark beyond the window and she slipped into the scullery and out the back door to await the flash of headlights across the yard. The wind whipped around the corner of the house, slicing into her, but she didn’t care. It was just punishment for her selfish thoughts.
It was the waiting that was the worst.
‘Can I get anyone a drink?’ offered Flora. ‘I noticed there’s a vending machine out in the foyer.’ They were standing in an awkward huddle around Fraser’s hospital bed.
Hannah seemed to look right past her, eyes focused on some distant object, but slowly she homed in on Flora and she shook her head. ‘No thank you.’ They were the first words she had spoken in quite some time. Up until then her gaze had remained glued to the monitor above Fraser’s head which beat out the rhythm of his life, as if by doing so she was ensuring it continued. ‘But perhaps Fraser might like some water?’
Fraser looked peculiarly affronted to find himself in hospital at all, particularly when, as he told anyone who would listen, he felt fine, and he turned to her now, tutting. ‘Never mind the water, you can get me a cup of tea, lass,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how much longer we’re expected to wait, but a man could die of thirst in here.’ He seemed completely oblivious to what he had just said, adding, ‘And a Mars bar or something, it’s nearly seven o’clock and I’m bloody starving.’ He looked at Hannah. ‘I don’t feel sick any more,’ he added.
‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Dad,’ said Ned, throwing Flora a nervous look. ‘You know, just in case…’
‘Just in case what?’
‘You know… in case they have to operate or something, do tests… I don’t know.’
‘Oh, don’t talk such rubbish,’ replied Fraser. ‘What are they going to do, cut me open right here? There’s nothing wrong with me now.’
Hannah winced. And then she patted his arm. ‘Fraser would like a glass of water, please, Flora,’ she said. ‘And nothing else until we’ve seen the doctor. Then when he’s got over this bug he can have whatever he wants.’ She fiddled in her handbag which had stayed resolutely thrust under her arm the whole time. ‘I have some money here…’
Flora waved away her offer. ‘No, it’s fine. Ned? Would you like anything?’
He glanced at his mother’s set expression. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘And see what they have. You’re sure you don’t want anything, Mum?’
‘I’m sure, thank you.’ And the conversation was ended.
‘Jeez…’ said Ned, as they walked down the corridor towards the main waiting area in A&E. ‘Mum’s gone into full-on martyr mode and Dad’s modelling grumpy old git. What are they like?’
‘As bad as each other,’ replied Flora. ‘But you can’t really blame them, they’re both obviously scared, and I don’t know, but I’m guessing they haven’t been up against anything like this before.’
‘Dad’s never even been in hospital, and I can’t remember the last time he went to see a doctor. Mum, too, for that matter. They just get on with stuff.’
‘Maybe that’s part of the problem,’ said Flora, wondering just how long Fraser had been feeling unwell. ‘But are you all right?’
Ned blew out air from between his teeth. ‘I will be once someone tells us what’s going on. It’s the not knowing, isn’t it? I can’t keep hold of everything I’m thinking, there’s just too much of it.’
Flora squeezed his hand. ‘Then one thing at a time,’ she said. ‘That’s all we can do.’
They had reached the vending machine.
‘Christ, I could really murder a Mars bar now,’ said Ned. ‘I didn’t think I was hungry, but now that Dad mentioned it, my stomach’s gurgling.’
‘Then have one,’ replied Flora, sensing his hesitation.
He studied the machine. ‘Nah, best not…’ He straightened. ‘Do you think that’s what’s caused this?’ he asked. ‘What we eat? I never really thought about it before, but what with you being a vegetarian and everything, and now Dad… He’s only young, Flora, he shouldn’t have had a heart attack…’
‘We still don’t know that he has,’ she said gently. ‘So let’s not go there just now. There will be plenty of time to think about things like that once we know. And trying to lay blame isn’t going to help.’
He studied her face. ‘That’s a non-answer, Flora, if ever I heard one, and not like you at all.’
She smiled. ‘No, it’s not, but for now, that’s all you’re going to get.’ She handed him a couple of pound coins for the machine. ‘Have what you want,’ she added, changing the subject. ‘We could be here for some time.’
‘I’ll just have a Coke,’ he said. ‘What about you?’
‘Well I’m going to have the bloody Mars bar, I’m starving too.’
Ned didn’t need much persuading to have one as well, but rather than take them back and eat the contraband in front of Fraser, they slipped outside for a minute. There, leaning up against the wall of A&E, they both shovelled the chocolate into their mouths as fast as they could. Flora held out her hand for Ned’s wrapper.
‘I’ll go and find a bin,’ she said. ‘Get rid of the evidence.’
‘What do you suppose they’ll do, if it is a heart attack?’ Ned’s face was suddenly serious.
She swallowed, pushing away the images from long ago in her mind. She couldn’t even begin to answer his question. ‘I’m sure someone will tell us,’ she said instead.
He was staring up at the sky. The clouds had lifted and the dark sky was shining with stars. ‘It’s like someone’s stopped the world, isn’t it?’ His eyes dropped to hers and he shivered. ‘Come on, it’s freezing out here.’
He led the way back inside, waiting while she darted across the room to a bin she spied there. A woman was perched in the seat next to it and she looked up and smiled as Flora dropped in the chocolate wrappers. She was sitting next to a man who was hunched over in his seat, elbows resting on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands. The woman didn’t say a word and yet her smile spoke volumes. They were all the same, these people here, waiting endlessly for their lives to restart again. Not all of them would, Flora knew that, and others would be changed irrevocably. Only time would tell which of these was waiting for them.
She hurried back to Ned and together they made their way along the length of corridor that was divided off into bays by regulation blue curtains. Flora glanced at the numbers above as they walked, momentarily lost, but then she realised that it was because the curtains to Fraser’s bay had been open when they had left. Now they were closed and there were voices coming from within.
Flora held back to allow Ned to step through and, despite only moving the curtain a fraction, the angle meant that she had a clear line of sight past his bulk to the bed within. It wasn’t clear whether Hannah was holding Fraser’s hand or the other way around, but they were locked together, a look of stunned incredulity mirrored on each other’s faces.
As the curtain opened wider, she could see a tall man, who though not overweight, seemed to occupy a huge proportion of the room. He was holding a sheet of paper and Flora reckoned his hands were twice as large as hers. But very neat looking, still slender. Artist’s hands.
‘So until we establish the degree of damage, it’s very difficult to say, but I’ll organise those tests straight away for you. In the meantime, we’ll send you up to the ward once a bed becomes available, so for now just try to get some rest.’
It was Hannah who recovered herself first.
‘Thank you, Doctor,’ she said. ‘So it’s nothing to do with his stomach then, not a sickness bug?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. The nausea is a common symptom, as is the stomach pain. Not all heart attack victims suffer from the classic chest pain one normally associates with them, so you did the right thing by getting it checked out.’
He turned and glanced at Ned, giving a tight smile. And then he was gone.
‘Dad?’
Ned crossed to the side of the bed where Fraser looked up at him and then straight to Flora, who was still hovering by the curtain.
‘Your beans weren’t to blame after all, lass,’ he said. ‘Reckon I owe you an apology.’
Chapter Nine
There was scarcely a word said as they filed through the scullery door back at the farm. It was gone eleven o’clock and Hannah would have stayed at the hospital the whole night if they’d let her. One of the few things Flora knew about Ned’s past was that he had been born at home, so not even childbirth had separated his parents. Tonight would be the first night in over thirty years that they had ever been apart.
The kitchen was still, the house in darkness as they entered, the steady thump of Brodie’s tail against the floor the only greeting. Ned crossed to flick on the light and the room was suddenly filled with harsh reality. Nobody knew what should happen next and they smiled weakly at one another, looking for clues. It was Flora who went to slide the kettle over to boil. If nothing else, it would bridge the awkward gap between coming into the house and going to bed, an act which would finally bring an end to the day. Right now none of them knew whether this closure was a good thing or a bad thing.
Flora poured the tea and then she cut three slices from the honey cake she had made earlier that afternoon because she’d needed to keep busy. It felt like a lifetime ago. She laid a plate in front of Hannah, hoping that the chance to comment on her culinary skills might at least break the silence she had settled into. But although its arrival elicited a momentary glance, Hannah said nothing.
Ned pounced on his. Apart from the Mars bar he had eaten at the hospital, he’d had nothing to eat since lunchtime. The ingredients for the vegetable stew that they should have had for their evening meal were still in the fridge. What would have happened if Flora had not gone to the milking parlour? Would Fraser have carried on working, hiding how he had been feeling from Ned, just like he had all day? Getting steadily worse and worse until possibly… she shuddered. Might his heart have stopped altogether? She ran through the events of the afternoon, wondering if there was anything they could have done differently, but then her hand flew to her mouth as she thought of something else.
‘Oh, my God, the chickens! Hannah, I’ve left the hens out… I’m so sorry… I’ll go now, I’ll—’ She stumbled over her feet in her haste to get to the door.
‘Leave them!’
Hannah’s voice was harsh in the quiet room.
‘But I can—’
‘I said, leave them! It’s far too late to go out now.’ Her voice had a sharp edge to it that Flora hadn’t heard before. And even though they were talking about the chickens, her tone still managed to convey all her upset, all her anger, all her fear, just as easily as if they had been talking about Fraser.
Flora threw a hasty glance at Ned but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head.
Hannah got to her feet. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announced, picking up her handbag from the table.
Flora’s eyes darted around the room. She couldn’t let Hannah leave like this. Not by herself. Her eyes sought out Ned’s once more, imploring him to help her find a way to reach his mother.
‘Look, I’ll… come up with you, shall I? In case you need anything. Maybe you might like the little heater on in your room? It’s bitter out there tonight and it won’t take a minute to set it up for you. I always think you feel the cold more when you’re tired…’ She trailed off. Or when your husband isn’t there beside you in the bed, she thought.
Ned stood up, taking his mother’s arm. ‘Good idea, Flora. Come on, we’ll all go up together.’
It seemed to take an age for Hannah to digest what had just been said to her, but eventually she nodded her head. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and that was all.
Flora needed no further encouragement and fled upstairs, trying not to look at the armchair in the corner of Hannah and Fraser’s room. The air felt frigid and she turned down the covers on the bed before moving back out onto the landing and dragging in the oil-filled radiator that lurked unused at the end of the corridor. She switched it on. It might smell for a little while, but Hannah needed to be warm.
Half an hour later she finally sat down on the side of their bed as Ned wearily began to remove his clothes. Neither of them had said a word about his mother’s outburst and, since then, Hannah had continued to speak in a monotone. Questions had been met with polite responses and reassurances met with a slight smile. It was a relief when she had succumbed to their ministrations and climbed into bed, bidding them both a goodnight.
Flora undressed and was about to get into bed herself when she realised that there was no way she could, not yet. There was still one thing more she had to do. Tell
ing Ned that she wouldn’t be long, she pulled on her pyjamas and crept back downstairs, grabbing a torch and oilskin from the scullery and whistling for Brodie to join her. They slipped out into the night together, making their way across the yard. She would never forgive herself if she didn’t check and, as she picked her way through the dark, her heart began to beat faster and faster. She had no idea what massacred chickens would look like, but she didn’t imagine it would look pretty. There would be blood and guts, gore and body parts and she had no idea how she would clear them all away in the dark, but she would, however long it took. Whatever happened, come morning, there was to be no trace of the death and destruction that had taken place.
An owl hooted, making her jump, but other than that, the night was still and she was grateful for the absence of rustling noises as she reached the coop. She swung the beam of the torch in front of her, lighting up the ground as she scanned for the inevitable. But there was nothing. Just the muddy uneven scrub of the chicken run and the wire mesh of the enclosure, glinting in the torchlight. The wooden door was hanging open just as she had left it, but of the hens there were no sign. Nor was there sign of anything else.
She let out a slow breath. She knew that the hens put themselves to bed automatically so it wasn’t a question of searching for them in the undergrowth, but perhaps instead they had been ambushed, attacked while they slept. Did hens even sleep? She didn’t know. She moved closer, circling the coop until she was back to where she started. Nothing.
Satisfied that she wasn’t about to come face to face with a wild animal intent on its dinner, she moved purposefully to the hutch and lifted the lid at one end. Taking a deep breath, she shone the light inside, and there, perched on the struts, presumably asleep, but very much alive and unmauled, were seven chickens. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.
