The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  ‘Well, I don’t want to miss the wedding. I mean, Joe did invite me, and it would be so rude—’

  Thankfully, they were interrupted by Carmel’s phone ringing. ‘Sorry, Zeinab, I’ve to take this...’

  She managed to hustle the old woman out the door and gratefully shut it after her.

  ‘HI, Jen,’ she answered the phone.

  ‘Hi, Carmel, are you all OK?’ Jen sounded hesitant. ‘I wanted to call last night, just to check, but I didn’t know...’

  ‘I’m fine, Jen. Well, fine is probably a bit strong, but I’m all right. Sharif and Nadia are gone back to London...’ She filled Jen in on the rest of the night’s events, and her sister was supportive and sympathetic.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re staying for the wedding, though, I really am. Don’t worry, you won’t be on your own for a second. We move as a pack, us McDaids.’ Jen was joking, but she seemed to sense Carmel’s anxiety at facing the whole family without Sharif by her side. She ended the call arranging to meet Jen for breakfast in an hour. She was going to get Joe and Luke to come, too, but just the fourf them. So they could have breakfast together as a family.

  She texted Sharif, knowing he wouldn’t even be landed yet.

  Have a safe flight. I love you and Nadia.

  She pressed send and threw the phone on the bed. As it landed, it pinged. A text.

  She grabbed the phone but saw it was only from Zane.

  Alrite luvburdz? Out clubbin’ Ivanka is to blame.#deadbodytomo #workinhospicejoke Miss yo’ sweet lil’Irish face. Zxxx

  Normally, she loved to get his messages—he always cheered her up—but not now. He always called her and Sharif luvburdz. It was kind of an in-joke after he planned their engagement party last year, threatening to have a hundred white doves delivered.

  Suddenly, the room seemed to be closing in on her. She needed some air. She pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, slipped into her trainers, and let herself out. The streets of Westport were almost deserted. There was the odd milk truck or delivery van, but the tourists had not yet surfaced after the revelry the night before.

  She walked fast, almost trying to run away from her own thoughts swirling frantically round her head. She tried to rationalise the feelings of abandonment and the frustration with herself at feeling so frightened and alone. She had her family here, she’d lived without Sharif for forty years, and now she was distraught at spending a few days away from him. It was stupid. She knew it. But Nora was teaching her that her reactions were informed by her experiences. Her fear of abandonment, her fear of being alone all stemmed from her childhood.

  Round and round the thoughts went, and she was getting more and more frustrated with herself. In the pocket of her hoodie, she found her earphones. She liked to listen to podcasts when she walked at home, so she stuck them in her ears. She scrolled to her podcasts and selected a Wayne Dyer one. His lovely voice always soothed her, and he seemed to always know the right thing to say.

  She was engrossed in her phone so she never saw the broken pavement, or the van that was going too fast, too close to the kerb.

  * * *

  Sharif’s phone flashed ‘incoming call’ as he waited at the carousel at Heathrow. His mother had hardly said a word since they left Ireland, except to ask why Carmel wasn’t coming back with them. He explained that she’d be back in a few days, that she was going to go to the wedding—he never mentioned her speaking to Zeinab—and that everything was going to be OK. She was still a little sedated, and for that, he was grateful.

  ‘Hello,’ he answered his phone.

  ‘Sharif? It’s Tim.’

  ‘Oh, hi, Tim, em... My mother and I are actually back in Lon—’

  ‘I know,’ Tim interrupted. ‘Zeinab said. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s been an accident.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s Carmel. She’s been knocked down by a van. The young fool driving it was out late and drove to work early this morning, he was over the limit. Carmel is in Galway Hospital. She was taken from the scene by ambulance.’

  Sharif felt sick; blood pounded in his ears. ‘How is she?’ Is she badly hurt?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sharif. Joe and Luke are following the ambulance in the hire car. I actually came on the accident. I stayed at my friend’s house last night and was walking back to the hotel early this morning. She must have gone out for a walk or a run or something. She was wearing sports clothes, anyway. The paramedics wouldn’t let me go with her, and the guards wanted to talk to me as well, get her details and all of that. That’s how I know the driver was drunk.’

  Sharif swallowed. ‘Was she conscious?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Sharif.’ Tim sounded so upset. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘And was she injured—I mean—could you see any external injuries?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘There seemed to be a lot of blood. I’m sorry, Sharif. I’ll go to the hospital now. Jen and Damien are coming, too. I’ll ring again when I know more.’

  ‘I’m on my way back, Tim. I’ll get the next flight hopefully.’

  Shaking, Sharif went over to where his mother was standing.

  ‘Ammi, Carmel’s had an accident. She’s been knocked down. Tim just called. She’s in an ambulance on the way to hospital, and he said she wasn’t conscious and there was a lot of blood.’ He was trying to stop the panic rising up in him.

  ‘Come on, get to the desk and get a flight back.’ The news seemed to have jolted Nadia out of her trance-like state. ‘Move, Sharif, come on.’ She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the Aer Lingus desk.

  They explained the situation, and the woman on the desk was very understanding but told them the flight was fully booked and the next available flight wasn’t until seven that evening.

  ‘But you can go on standby, and if someone cancels—’

  ‘Not good enough,’ Nadia muttered and left the desk, headed to the security queue.

  ‘Is anyone flying to Shannon?’ she yelled on the top of her voice. People stopped and stared at this tiny Asian woman asking over and over for people flying to Shannon. Eventually, a young couple said they were.

  Nadia stood before them. ‘If you let me and my son take your seats, I will give you a thousand pounds in cash right this minute. I will go to the cash point over there and draw it out and hand it over. All you need to do is come with me to the Aer Lingus desk and tell them we are taking your seats. It’s an absolute emergency, my daughter-in-law in critically ill in hospital, and we need to get to her.’

  The couple looked at each other. The boy wasn’t keen, but the girl, said, ‘It’s fine. We can stay another night.’

  ‘Marvellous.’ Nadia led them to the Aer Lingus desk, and Sharif went to the cash point. They handed over the money.

  The change of name was done, and Sharif and Nadia had to run to make the flight, their luggage presumably still circling the belt in the arrivals hall.

  Nadia took total charge as Sharif tried over and over to contact the hospital. Carmel was in Accident and Emergency so was not yet on the hospital system, he was told. Eventually, he managed to get through to the Emergency Department.

  ‘A and E, Moira speaking.’

  ‘Hello, my name is Dr Sharif Khan. My wife Carmel Khan was admitted in the past hour, a road accident?’ He tried to keep the panic and frustration out of his voice. He knew firsthand the level of pressure staff in emergency medicine were under, and he also knew adding to it wasn’t going to get him very far.

  ‘OK, let me check. Please hold.’

  Some horrible tinny music played while he waited. He began to think she’d forgotten about him, but he continued to hold as his mother showed both passports and they boarded the plane. She found their seats, and he still waited. The music was on a loop, and he felt the ridiculous tune drilling into his brain.

  ‘Sir, you’ll need to end your call.’ The stewardess tapped his shoulder. ‘We are about to take off.’ She
was about fifty, and despite a lot of makeup, she still looked like a bulldog chewing a wasp, so Sharif didn’t defy her. He had seen people removed from flights for security infractions in the opinion of the cabin crew, so he couldn’t take a chance. ‘Now, sir,’ she added, with a steely glare.

  Reluctantly, he pressed end. It was an hour and ten minutes to Shannon, and the cabin crew were just going through the security demonstration. He glanced at his watch. 9.15. They’d be there by 10.30, rent a car, and he could be in Galway an hour later if he put the boot down. But what if he was too late?

  He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. She was going to be OK. She had to be OK.

  Nadia leaned over and put her hand on his as they took off, back to Ireland.

  He looked at her. ‘I should never have left her. If I—’

  ‘Sharif, stop this now. We must pray that our darling girl is all right. Nothing else matters.’

  ‘But if I hadn’t left her—she didn’t want to stay alone...’

  ‘Why?’

  Sharif ran his hands through his silver hair. ‘I talked her into staying for the wedding. She wanted to come with us. What will I do, Ammi, what if she dies? I can’t go through it again. She might die—she might be dead already...’

  Nadia had only ever seen Sharif like this once before, when Jamilla had died. She knew it was hard for him, he was so worried, but he needed to calm down.

  ‘Stop that now. Sharif Khan, you need to pull yourself together. Your wife needs you, and we’ll find out how she is the moment the plane touches down. But for now, we will just pray to Allah to keep her safe.

  For the first time in his adult life, Sharif prayed. He asked Allah to keep Carmel safe. He didn’t know who or what, if anything, he was speaking to—Allah, God, Buddha, the Universe, something, nothing, some power other than himself, something stronger than him, some force to keep her alive.

  He shook his head when the same stewardess offered him tea or coffee; he couldn’t swallow anything. After what felt like an interminable hour, the captain announced to the cabin crew that they should take their seats for landing, and the lights to indicate no more walking in the cabin came on. Sharif wondered if he could get a signal on his phone as they came into land, he decided to risk it, despite the clear instruction not to switch it on until the plane had landed. He didn’t care what the Aer Lingus woman thought—he took out his phone and switched it on. Searching for network flashed up on the screen.

  He pressed several buttons in frustration. Still searching for network. They disembarked, and as they hustled their way through the crowd to get to the immigration desk, he was so glad of his British passport. His mother had one, too, which spared them the added wait of travelling through the much longer Non-EU queue they would have had to endure on their Pakistani passports.

  Ping. A text.

  Welcome to Ireland...

  Sharif rejected the text, and two more, both offering competitive rates for roaming. He rejected them instantly. Then one from Joe.

  At hospital now. No news.

  And one from Tim.

  Carmel in ER. Team with her. She’s alive but no other update.

  Sharif showed it to Nadia, too relieved to speak. Then he found Joe’s number in his phone and rang it.

  It was answered on the first ring. ‘Sharif, it’s Jen.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Dad is just gone off with someone now. We’re waiting for him to come back. I’m not supposed to have the phone on here. One sec, I’ll go outside and ring you back. Where are you?’

  ‘At the airport, I’m just renting a car now. Call me as soon as you can.’ He hung up and relayed what she’d said to Nadia.

  Nadia dealt with the car hire, shoving things to sign at him, taking his driving licence and credit card out of his wallet, nudging him to enter the pin. Eventually, it was all done. Sharif just stared at the phone, waiting for Jen to call back.

  He knew the protocol well. If a doctor had good news to deliver, he or she was usually happy do it in front of the gathered family or friends. If it was bad news, they took the next of kin aside.

  He couldn’t bear to go further down that line of thought. Why wasn’t Jen ringing back? He tried Tim.

  It rang out. He hung up, frustrated.

  Then the phone rang. Joe.

  ‘Sharif, it’s Joe.’ His tone was terse. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘She’s going to be OK.’

  Relief flooded his body. He felt tears of relief well up in his eyes.

  ‘I... I’m just so relieved. I’m on the way. How bad are her injuries? Tim said there was a lot of blood. What happened?

  There was a long pause, and then he heard Joe’s voice.

  ‘She was out walking or running or something when she was knocked down by a van. She did lose a lot of blood, but the ambulance arrived quickly. They’re taking her to theatre now to set the broken bones in her arm and leg. She had a fracture to her skull, as well, but they think it’s not too serious. No internal bleeding as far as they can see, but she’ll have a scan when she goes down to theatre.’ Joe’s voice had softened.

  ‘OK. Is she even a little aware?’ Sharif asked.

  ‘I haven’t seen her, just spoke to the head of the assessment team, and that’s all he told me. They’re fairly sure there’s nothing internally, and her vital signs are strong.’

  ‘Well, if you get the chance to see her, can you ring me? I want to speak to her, even just for a second.’

  ‘OK, I will. Drive safely. Oh, Sharif, is Nadia with you?’

  ‘Yes. Do you want to speak to her?’

  Joe hesitated. ‘Ah no, I’ll see you both in a bit.’

  Chapter 26

  Jen, Damien, Zeinab, Tim and Joe all sat in the hospital canteen sipping drinks they didn’t want. Luke and Carrie were gone back to the hotel to get some of Carmel’s things. She’d been in surgery for two hours now, and there was no word. The nurse had told them to go off and get a coffee and she’d call them when Carmel was back from theatre.

  Luckily, an old college friend of Jen’s was married to a Galway man and they lived there now, so she offered to mind Sean. She had a little girl of more or less the same age, so he went off happily.

  When Sharif and Nadia arrived to the Emergency Department, They went in search of the rest of the family and guessed the café.

  As they entered the café, the others stood up. Seeing the whole family there made Sharif even more worried. If it was just a broken arm, surely, they would have gone home.

  Zeinab kept her distance, and neither Sharif nor Nadia acknowledged her.

  Nadia went straight to Joe, who drew her into his arms for a hug. Seeing her seemed to melt his stoic exterior. ‘My poor girl. Hasn’t she had enough crap to deal with already? I’m glad you’re here,’ he mumbled, so only Nadia could hear.

  ‘Yes, well, Sharif had to come back. We should never have—’

  ‘I’m glad he’s back too, obviously,’ Joe interrupted her, glancing to see Sharif in chat with Jen, Tim and Damien. ‘He is of course who she’ll want to see, but…’ He looked around to verify—Zeinab had gone to the ladies’. ‘But I’m glad you’re back,’ he said.

  She looked up at him. He wasn’t letting her go.

  ‘I’m glad to be back, tooWhat’s the latest?’ Nadia asked.

  Just as he was about to tell her what he knew, his phone rang. ‘Hello, Joe McDaid.’ The others all turned to watch him. ‘Right, great,’ he said into the phone. Then there was a pause. ‘Yes, he just arrived... Sure... Right. Thanks.’

  They all stared at him, faces expectant, as he hung up.

  ‘She’s back and seems OK,’ he said. ‘The doctors want to see you, Sharif. The rest of us are to wait here, and they’ll let us know when we can see her. She’s in Recovery. Follow along the green tile, and it’s signposted, the nurse said.’

  Sharif didn’t need to be told twice and virtually bolted out of the canteen. He passed medical staff of all varietie
s and saw nothing. Normally, he was very interested in hospitals and how different places did things, but now all he wanted was to see Carmel. He found Recovery easily and gave his name at the reception desk.

  ‘She’s in cubicle four, second on the left. The curtains are pulled, but you can just go in.’

  He found her spot and heard voices coming from the other side of the curtains. So often in his life he’d been the one the family were quizzing, needing information, some good news. It felt strange to be on this side of it again.

  He parted the curtains, and there she was. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, her face bruised. Her arm was in a plaster cast from wrist to shoulder, and her leg was covered by a metal cage to keep the blankets off it. All the injuries seemed to be on the right side.

  ‘I’m Sharif Khan, Carmel’s husband,’ he introduced himself to the very young-looking African doctors consulting at Carmel’s bedside.

  ‘Hello, Dr Khan, oncology?’ the shorter of the two said with a smile. ‘Carmel’s aunt mentioned it.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. How is she?’ The last thing on his mind was Zeinab. He could just picture it: My nephew is an oncologist you know! Guaranteed to annoy the medical staff treating their patient. They would do their best if her husband was a binman or a plasterer either.

  ‘She’s OK. Mild linear open fracture to the skull, but neurosurgery had a look at the x-ray and are confident painkillers will do, no need for their involvement. There’s no evidence of cognitive impairment. There’s a fracture to the ulna, distal, and a tibia fracture as well.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Sharif asked.

  ‘Yes, she’s been fully scanned,’ the doctor told him, ‘though it would have been better to know about the pregnancy before the MRI. But your wife was unresponsive in the ambulance. She woke up briefly in the A&E pre-theatre, but we sedated her. Thankfully, baby seems to have survived the jolt, and the heartbeat is good and strong.’

  Sharif sat down on the seat beside Carmel’s head.

  ‘I didn’t know, we... I don’t think Carmel knew either...’ He was trying to sound coherent. ‘We were trying, but…’