by Sue Watson
“Diego I’m so very, very sorry. I didn’t realise you only wanted a cake for your daughter. I thought we were on some kind of date and I drank too much wine on an empty stomach and a broken heart and I…am…so…”
“Stella,” he raised his voice over my bleating, “I’m phoning from Accident and Emergency, I need to speak to you about someone I think may be your friend.”
“Who?” I asked, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“He has ID, his name is Sebastian Girard. He has had a road accident. Do you know him?”
“Yes…yes.” I heard myself whisper.
“He needs you here, at the hospital. Stella, it’s not good.”
“Oh God!” My stomach hit the floor as I glanced over at Al who looked puzzled and had now put down his fork.
“We’re on our way,” I threw the phone down and grabbing my car keys, said as calmly as I could: “Al, Seb’s at the hospital, I don’t know any details, but I think he’s OK. We need to go there now.”
We all jumped in the car. Lizzie sat in the back holding onto Al who couldn’t speak and I saw in my mirror that he was deathly pale. “He’ll be OK, we just need to get to him,” I could hear her saying. “He’ll be fine once he sees you. It’ll all be fine, hon.” It was ten minutes away and as my car flew along the dual carriageway my mind flew faster. I kept hearing Diego’s words: ‘It’s not good’.
When we arrived at the hospital I had to park and frantically rummaged in my handbag to find a bloody one-pound coin. “Go on Al. Lizzie, just get him in to see Seb, I’ll sort this.”
They leapt from the car and started running, jumping over the grass verges and diving into the entrance. The more I rummaged, the more panicky I became and I could feel myself filling up with fear and blinding frustration: my friend could be dying and I’m late because I can’t find a fucking coin. I might never see him again -and all because I need a pound to park.
Realising that it didn’t matter I abandoned the car in its space, unpaid for and ran across the tarmac faster than I’d ever run in my life. Stumbling over the endless grass verges, I eventually hurled myself through the glass doors of Accident and Emergency, breathless from running and fear. After much frantic to-ing and fro-ing through the department I was eventually led through some heavy, double doors into a room filled with equipment and people. Sebsatian was lying motionless on a bed, a network of tubes coming out of him and a team of people around him, the buzz of machines providing an intrusive backdrop of sound. Al and Lizzie were standing to one side, out of the way, clinging to each other. Al’s face was wet with tears and I looked on helplessly as Lizzie rocked him like a mother would a child.
“Sebastian’s really bad, Stella. He might die,” Al croaked, reaching out to me as I walked robotically towards them.
“But…he can’t. You’re going to get married. And what about your honeymoon?” I could hear myself saying stupidly. “What happened, Al?” but he was shaking his head, too distressed to speak.
I turned to Lizzie, who was talking to one of the nurses. “He’s been stabilised, the doctor will be along to see you soon,” the nurse was saying “but you should know that he is very seriously hurt.” Lizzie covered her face with her hands.
“I was always telling him…his bloody driving…He was going too fast – he crashed the car, Stella.” Al sobbed, inconsolably. I reached out and held him. I didn’t know what to do, I was so numb with shock. I just held him and willed myself not to cry because I needed to be strong for Al. Then the doctor arrived.
“Hello,” he said looking at us with kind brown eyes; it was Diego. “I have been looking after Sebastian since he came in. We need to move him into the Intensive Care Unit very soon. We are doing everything we can.”
“It’s so awful,” I said, a sob lurching in my throat. “Will he be OK? What exactly is wrong with him?”
Diego put his hand on my back. “Your friend has broken some bones but the main worry is the trauma he suffered to his head. He is in a coma and his brain is very bruised and swollen.” He looked at Al. “The swelling might not go down. I am very sorry my friend, I wish I could offer you better news. We need to move him now.”
“Oh…er Al, this is Diego,” I said, rather inappropriately. I felt a pang of guilt for reverting to social niceties in this cataclysmic moment, but what else could I do? We were lost.
Al looked up and smiled. “Fancy you two meeting again, in the middle of all this. Isn’t life funny?” And he started to cry again.
In the midst of all the awfulness, something occurred to me. I turned to Diego. “How did you know to call me?” I asked, putting my arm around Al.
“He had your business card. I recognise the name and number,” Diego said. “And Stella – this was found in the car, on the front seat.” Diego reached across to a trolley, picked up a small, white package and handed it to me. It was a card, with my name scribbled on the front. My eyes met Al’s and with shaky hands, I opened the envelope. I slowly pulled out a bright pink card and as I lifted it up, something fell to the floor with a clank. ‘Welcome Home’ was emblazoned on the front of the card in sparkly letters and as I looked inside, I saw Sebastian’s beautiful script. ‘Dear Stella’ it read, ‘welcome to The Cake Fairy’s new home. May you create magic here’. My eyes filled with tears and as I looked up I saw that Lizzie had retrieved what had fallen out of the card.
“Here,” she whispered, holding her hand out. In it was a set of keys to Sebastian’s restaurant, on a beautiful fairy keyring.
At that moment, a team of porters came in.
“We need to transfer Sebastian now,” said Diego gently. “Perhaps his partner would like to accompany him?”
“Yes,” Al sobbed. “I’m not leaving.”
“We’ll wait in the café, Al. We’ll come up as soon as we’re allowed,” said Lizzie, and took my hand. In a flurry of white coats, drips and nurses, Sebastian was wheeled away with Diego and Al following behind. As they walked away beyond our reach I saw Diego place his hand on Al’s shoulder, which finally brought the sob that had been threatening in my throat to the surface.
“Let’s get a coffee, Stella,” Lizzie whispered, putting her arm in mine and gently trying to move me forward. I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the keys, watching as Sebastian’s bed disappeared from sight and Al’s forlorn figure faded from my view. Then I allowed Lizzie to lead me away, down the stairs and into the sunlit cafe, where people queued for coffee and chattered, unaware that life for us might never be the same again.
34 - Love and Worry
I found a table near the window, which was stupid because the sun was shining directly in my eyes, making them water even more. I stared ahead, waiting for Lizzie who eventually returned with two comfortingly-steamy mugs of coffee. I took mine gratefully, holding it with both hands, watching the steam rise into the air and disappear.
“I popped out and called work,” she said, practical and calm as always. “I can stay as long as I need to.” She pushed a large Kit Kat towards me. “Eat this, sweetie.” I shook my head and moved it to the side, unable to face it. “Come on Stel. You haven’t eaten yet.”
“Look I’m not exactly borderline anorexic. I won’t pass out because I haven’t eaten a bloody Kit Kat,” I answered sharply, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry, Lizzie. Thanks.”
“It’s OK hon,” she said, “We’re both on edge. It’s been a rotten few months for all of us and now this.”
We sat for a long time; the sunlight moved across the canteen and coffee turned in to sandwiches and hot lunches. I called Emma Wilson and arranged for her to pick up Grace after school and Lizzie and I both kept staring at our phones. As the serving ladies dished out food and talked about ‘last night’ we both silently lived through the possible outcomes, unable to share even with each other.
Eventually Lizzie spoke. “I told Al to text me but I doubt he’ll be able to use his phone in the ICU. I’ll pop to reception see what’s happening.”<
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“I’ll come too,” I said, worrying that if I stood my legs may give way.
Lizzie sensed my reluctance. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” She threw her bag over her shoulder and walked through the canteen. I watched her go, sipping my coffee and feeling like a child whose mother had left her. I half-smiled; Lizzie was good at taking care of things – she’d battled through life alone, so she’d had to.”
Within a few minutes, Lizzie was back, rushing eagerly through the door and beckoning me to move. I gathered my jacket and my bag and stumbled from the table, “What? What?” I said, joining her.
“There’s a message at reception for us to go to ICU, come on.” My breath caught in my throat and I stumbled after her, eventually running to catch up with her long-legged strides.
“Outpatients,” she yelled, running past a blue sign.
“That’s Orthopaedics,” I shouted back like it was a relevant response as we whizzed past another doorway, looking everywhere and seeing nothing. Every door looked the same, every turning just like the last and we just ran and ran, completely lost in a blind panic of blue signs and white walls. Eventually, Lizzie had the presence of mind to ask someone the directions to ICU. As we entered, the thing that struck me the most apart from the occasional bleeping and whirring of machines was the blanket of silence. I saw the back of Al, slumped over the bed and was aware only of my noisy heart, beating with exertion and dread.
As we walked in Al looked up. He’d been crying and his skin was grey. “Hi,” he said weakly, mustering a smile.
“How is he?” Lizzie ventured, walking gingerly round the bed.
“No change, doll. It’s just about waiting now. You guys should go home. There’s no point in us all being here. Go home and I’ll call as soon as we know anything.”
“You are kidding right?” Lizzie started. “We are your best friends and we are staying here with you, end of discussion.”
“Typical,” he said, with his voice breaking. “Mine and Seb’s moment of drama and we have to share it with you two fag hags.” Lizzie and I both smiled and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. I looked away.
“Have you called Seb’s mum?” Lizzie asked, brushing her face with her hand.
“Yes, Rosemary’s on her way.”
“Well, Stella and I will go to reception and wait for her there,” she said, “to show her the way.” Al nodded, and Lizzie and I went back downstairs.
“God, imagine the call to say your only child is being kept alive by a machine and no-one knows what’s going to happen,” I said to Lizzie. I thought about Grace and shivered.
“Poor Rosemary,” I added in a whisper. I thought about the new baby in her arms; the first words, the first day at school, grazed knees, leaving home and years and years of love and worry. All could come to nothing in just one day.
Suddenly, a well-dressed woman rushed towards the reception desk.
“Sebastian – Sebastian Girard,” she said to the receptionist, “my son.” And her voice broke.
“Rosemary?” Lizzie said, gently. Rosemary nodded. “I’m Lizzie, this is Stella. We’re Seb’s friends. He’s this way.”
“The cab,” Rosemary said, “I need to pay the cab. He said there was a cash machine in the hospital. I didn’t have time, when I got the call…” and she broke off, unable to finish.
“I’ll deal with it,” said Lizzie. “You just get to Seb.” Rosemary flashed her a thin, grateful smile. I put my arm through this stranger’s arm. We had barely met, but we were already united, by the event and the person.
“He’s all I have, since his father died,” she said, like I could make it all go away. I squeezed her arm, what could I say?
“On the phone they said something about Sebastian’s brain swelling?” she said, as we hurried down the corridor, trying the words out like she was talking about someone else. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t real, that Seb was fine. I wanted to say ‘it’s all a misunderstanding and he’s back at the restaurant waiting for you’ but of course, I couldn’t.
“He’s in the best place,” I said, managing to discover yet another stupid cliché from what was beginning to look like an endless hospital collection.
Arriving at Seb’s bedside Rosemary went straight to her son, kissing him gently on the forehead.
“Sebastian, darling – it’s Mum,” she whispered, tears dripping onto his face. Al stood up and put his hand on her arm and I realised I shouldn’t be there. I made a gesture to Al that said I would leave them alone and he nodded.
I headed back to the main entrance and found Lizzie outside, on her hundredth fag.
“Oh Stel, that woman’s face – I couldn’t look at her.” She said, shaking her head and sucking hard on the smoke. For a moment, I almost envied her addiction.
“We need to talk to the staff at Sebastian’s restaurant,” I said numbly.
“Christ of course,” she said, “they have to be told.” She was just stepping on her cigarette when her mobile rang. She clicked it open. “Hi. I can’t talk, but I won’t be in today. No. I don’t think I can finish it, sorry. I know it’s really bad timing – I’ll explain later.” She hung up with a sigh.
“Is everything OK?” I said.
“Yup,” she replied shortly. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I didn’t ask her any more, we just climbed into the car and we set off towards the restaurant. The early autumn sun had made the seats warm and we were both silent throughout the journey. Arriving at the restaurant, we could see that Seb’s loyal staff had opened up without him. Candles were flickering on the tables and the restaurant looked busy.
“Stel, What are you going to do about this Strictly Dancing stuff?” Lizzie asked, as I turned off the engine and reached for my bag.
“I don’t know Lizzie. If something terrible happens…I couldn’t face it. If Seb’s OK then we’ll still need a business and I think it’s up to me to keep things going until we know.”
“Mmm, I think you’re right. But you can’t do this on your own. Look I will sort it with work and take the couple of days I’m owed after all the bloody long hours I did in Oz.”
“Lizzie, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I said.
“Stella – we’re friends and that’s what friends do. But I have to say, after today we’re both too stressed and tired. What do you say we both have a good night’s sleep then tomorrow after the restaurant’s shut, I’ll come and help you for however long it takes, until the order’s finished?”
“That’s really kind Lizzie. I should start tonight, we’ve only got three more days until the party. But I really want to go home and see Grace,” I said, suddenly seeing a vision of poor Rosemary at her son’s bedside.
“OK. That’s sorted then. You can collect Grace from Emma’s and spend the evening with her, then get an early night. You need it.”
“Yeah. Thanks Lizzie.”
“And why don’t you call Tom and ask him to look after Grace for a few days? We’re almost ready for the Barry launch next Monday, so I’m sure he’ll be free.”
So I drove off while Lizzie did the difficult bit of going into the restaurant to tell them the news and to ask Claude, the sous-chef, to take charge until we knew what was happening with Seb.
I broke the news to Grace, who was upset and wanted to see Seb immediately. “I’m sorry darling but he’s very poorly, we don’t know when he’ll be better, but his mum’s with him.”
“Oh well, if his mum’s there he’ll be OK, I’m sure,” she said with a naïve confidence I longed to share.
Later I called Tom, told him the news and asked if Grace could stay with him. “Of course Stella. God that is awful, I’m so sorry. Tell Al I’m thinking of him. Is there anything I can do?”
I was strangely warmed by his response. “No, there’s nothing anyone can do but wait and see. You having Grace is a big help, thank you,” I said.
“Well if I can do anything more, let me know. Are you OK? Would you like me to
come round?”
“I don’t think so Tom,” I said firmly, thinking that was all I needed, adding to this emotional mix.
We made arrangements for Tom to collect Grace after school the next day then come to the house and pick up her things. I put down the phone, feeling very alone. I couldn’t talk to Tom so I called Dave; he was still supposed to be my boyfriend, after all and he should know what to say. I dialled his number. It rang, and rang, and rang. I made a cup of coffee, unable to even think about sleep even though I was so tired. I dialled again, but no answer so I left a message. “I need to talk to you,” I wailed down the phone. I put it down and dialled again, but after a fourth time worried that Dave might think I was stalking him. Reluctantly, I stopped calling, turned off the lights and went to bed.
I was awoken the following morning very early by the phone ringing. My heart lifted slightly, thinking it might be Dave, but the shrill, efficient voice on the other end was like a splash of cold water.
“Stella. I need to talk with you re the event.” It was Sangita.
“Sangita, can I just stop you there.” I sat up in bed and shook my head as the torrent of yesterday’s terrible events began to flood into my mind. I slowly explained about Seb’s accident and how we were now waiting for news. Sangita was, well, Sangita.
“Oh I’d like to extend my concern. So sorry Stella. Tell Al the same. Sebastian is a very good businessman – great with money.”
“Yes. He is a wonderful person too,” I added, knowing my sarcasm was lost on Sangita, whose admiration extended only to one’s business acumen or accounting skills.
“Now Stella, I don’t want to seem heartless at this time, but I NEED the paperwork. I am in a very difficult position here, we need proof that you operate from Sebastian’s kitchen before we progress any further.”
“Of course, I understand,” I said, thinking about how stupid this all was in the light of what was happening. “I’ll have the paperwork to you soon, I just need a bit more time.”
