Chloe was understandably groggy. She placed her hand on her ear and cried a little.
‘They said she might have a bit of an earache after. They’ve given her some painkillers, so that should take the edge off.’
‘Poor little thing,’ Tom cooed.
Once Chloe was settled into the ward, Grace hopped onto the bed and held her daughter in her arms. ‘When we get home, Chlo, we can read The Gruffalo again and Daddy has got you some ice cream when you feel up to it.’
Chloe nodded against her mum, turned on her side and slept for over an hour.
Grace smiled at her husband. ‘I know this is a terrible thing to say, but I quite like it when she’s a bit under the weather and wants to be held like this.’ She kissed Chloe’s hair.
‘I know what you mean.’ He smiled back. ‘Apparently she’ll be right as rain tomorrow, just a bit of a sore throat, but apart from that…’ He let it trail.
‘And I’ll be back at work, worse luck. I feel crappy.’ Grace yawned.
‘You could take another day,’ Tom suggested.
‘I can’t.’ Grace shook her head. ‘I’m already up against it with a couple of deadlines; I need to go and chivvy things along. Plus you know what Jason’s like, the slightest whiff that I’m not coping and he’ll be all over my accounts like a hungry locust. The bastard.’ Grace winced as she realised she’d sworn while holding Chloe; she was usually very good about keeping her profanities for when her daughter was out of sight and earshot.
Tom tutted in mock disapproval. ‘Think you got away with it, just about.’
Grace smiled. ‘Do you remember when I forgot she was in the back of the car and missed the turning and said S-H-I-T and she said it for a week to everyone, as if she knew, and we kept shouting “Ship ahoy!” over her to try and stop the old ladies in the village from being traumatised?’
Tom laughed. ‘We’ve got to be so careful!’
‘We have.’
It was a little over an hour later that Chloe roused herself, stretched her arm over her head as she opened her eyes and looked at her dad. ‘Stostisisipal,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, hostipal, Chlo!’ He laughed. ‘She sounds like her mother after a few gins.’
‘Shall I change her nappy?’ Grace wondered. After her surgery they had put her in some night-time pull-ups to save any mishaps. Grace placed a hand under her bum and pulled the waistband clear, looking down. ‘Actually, no. She’s perfectly dry. So no point in disturbing her.’
Chloe slept for most of the afternoon, with her parents taking turns to hold her. It was five hours after her surgery that the surgeon came to visit.
‘Hello, Chloe’s Mum and Dad. Good news: it all went very well earlier, no complications or surprises, which is just how we like it. How’s she doing?’ Mr Portland was jovial if a little rushed. Grace noticed the shiny evening shoes and black trousers visible beneath his white coat; obviously a man with somewhere to be.
‘She’s great, but a little groggy. Been waking up, crying, then nodding back off,’ Tom explained.
‘That’s to be expected after an anaesthetic. Has she been drinking?’ He looked at the flipchart in his hand.
‘Yes, just sips,’ Grace confirmed.
‘Has she been chatting?’ Mr Portland came closer and looked at the sleepy Chloe in her dad’s arms.
Tom laughed. ‘She was trying to say hospital, but it came out wrong – she’s never been able to say it!’
Mr Portland laughed too. ‘Well, look, take her home and make sure she keeps drinking. You’ve been given a leaflet, I take it, about what to expect? What to do if there are any abnormalities? Bleeds and so on?’
‘Yes.’ Grace patted her handbag, where the printed information sat snugly in her diary.
‘Really, don’t worry. It’s a very routine procedure. Sleep is the best thing for her. She’ll be back on track tomorrow and of course you have the ward number, so any questions or worries, just give us a shout.’ Mr Portland smiled, clicked his ballpoint pen and returned it to his top pocket. ‘Bye, bye, Chloe!’ He waved as he strode from the ward.
‘Nice man,’ Tom said as he wrapped his little girl in the duvet they had brought from home.
Grace pulled the car into the driveway and killed the engine, then ran ahead to open the front door and switch on the lights.
Tom lifted Chloe from the back seat and carried her straight upstairs to her bed. She was still groggy. He laid her on the mattress. ‘She’s a bit shivery, Grace.’
‘Well it’s not surprising, it’s bloody cold, Tom. Freezing out there!’ she said as she rubbed her palms together. ‘Don’t forget, she’s been in a hot hospital all day; this is probably a shock to her system. Tell you what, it’s a bloody shock to my system!’
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am it’s all over,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve been secretly quite worried, dreading it.’
‘All done now, love, and for the best.’ She smiled.
‘Yep, definitely for the best. Mr Portland said it had all gone very well.’ Tom spoke with pride, as if Chloe had passed a test.
‘Yep, bless her. I’ll change her nappy now so we don’t have to disturb her later. ‘Ssshh…’ Grace whispered, to quell her daughter’s whimpers as she lifted up her nightdress and removed her pull-ups. ‘It’s bone dry.’ She laid her hand on the dry, warm nappy. ‘That’s odd.’
‘Not really, Grace. She’s hardly drunk anything, has she?’ Tom said.
‘No, of course, that’ll be it. I guess usually she’s guzzling all day, isn’t she?’
‘Again, like her mother!’ He laughed. ‘Talking of which, shall I go pop the fire on and open a bottle of red?’
‘If you like. I don’t feel a hundred per cent. I’m thinking I might go in a bit later tomorrow, get Chloe back into her routine in the morning, help you get her settled. I can get the 11.30 train and be in for lunchtime. That’d be okay, wouldn’t it?’
‘More than okay. She’ll be happy.’ He pointed at their sleeping beauty. ‘And her daddy is certainly happy. Hello, lie-in!’ Tom beamed.
‘With Miss Squeaky Door on patrol at the crack of a sparrow’s fart? You should be so lucky.’ The two laughed as Grace placed Dr Panda by her side and tucked the duvet around her little girl. She kissed her forehead. ‘Goodnight, baby. I love you, Chloe. We were so proud of you today, you did really well, my beautiful girl.’
Chloe stirred and opened her mouth. ‘Aspetimeee…’ She fell back again against the pillow, asleep.
Grace looked at her husband and shrugged. They both laughed.
‘Definitely one over the eight!’ Tom bent low and kissed his daughter. ‘You were a star today, Chlo. I’ll be up to check on you in a bit.’
Grace paused on the landing. ‘Ha! Tom, listen!’ She cupped her hand around her ear. ‘No snoring!’
Tom made out to clap and twirled on the spot. ‘Mr Portland, I love you, and so will the captain of the rowing team!’
Grace dug him in the ribs as they tiptoed down the stairs. While Tom gathered the bottle of wine from the kitchen, Grace switched her phone on. ‘Flaming Nora, I’ve got a million texts from Mum and Alice and Jayney, all asking how she got on! I can’t be arsed to reply to them all. Is it okay to send a group reply, do you think?’ She looked up at her husband.
‘Yes, do it, then we get more us-time!’ He winked.
Grace laughed as she rattled off a response. Evening all! Home! Happy to report all went very well. Chloe now soundo. Will give update in the morning. Night y’all. xxx
Tom collapsed by her side and handed her a glass of wine. ‘I’m exhausted.’ He yawned as if to prove the point.
‘Poor baby.’ She stroked his hair. ‘And there was me hoping for a bit of TLC.’
‘Ooh, that feels nice. And I did offer to get you Paracetamol earlier, that was TLC!’ He nestled against her, catlike and yawned again.
‘Oh, honey, yes you did. Are you too tired for sexy thoughts?’ Grace nudged him with her elbow.
Tom looked up. ‘Grace, I am never too tired for sexy thoughts.’
‘Shame.’ She sipped at her wine. ‘Cos I am.’
Tom lunged forward and kissed his wife hard on the mouth, drawing away to chat. ‘It’s been a funny old day, horrible because of what Chloe went through, but really lovely as you’ve been home. I’ve loved it.’ He kissed her again, longer this time.
‘I’ve loved it too,’ Grace whispered, feeling slightly breathless by the force of their contact. Her face glowed as she marvelled that even after all these years, they still had that magic; even when she was feeling a little under the weather, he could make her heart thud.
‘Shall we take this wine upstairs?’ he asked as he pulled her from the sofa.
Grace smiled, nodding as she picked up her glass and followed him back up. She poked her head into Chloe’s room and stood on the landing, enjoying the silence, which would take a bit of getting used to. Gone was the snuffle-pig snore that had become Chloe’s signature noise. She crept backwards, remembering Mr Portland’s words. ‘Sleep is the best thing for her.’
With his clothes in a heap on the floor, Tom was already under the duvet, trying to muster some warmth in the cool bed.
‘Shall we set an alarm in case we drop off?’ Grace asked. ‘We need to check on Chlo in a bit.’
‘No, I’m always up for the loo and to check on her anyway,’ Tom said. ‘Come here, I need your body for warmth, it’s freezing!’ He spoke through chattering teeth.
‘Oh, well, if it’s that cold, I’d better put my thick PJs on.’
‘No!’ Tom raised a palm in protest. ‘Anything but those! I think I’d prefer you to talk about frozen lamb than come to bed in those passion killers.’ He squirmed.
‘Your mum bought me those, which means they were probably horribly expensive!’ Grace smiled.
‘Oh God, what is it with you? First those bloody pyjamas and now you’re talking about my mother? Are you determined to put the kybosh on our love life tonight?’
‘Depends – how many more minutes’ sleep would I get?’ Grace asked as she kicked off her jeans and peeled off her T-shirt before jumping under the duvet.
‘I reckon about an extra fourteen minutes!’ Tom laughed as he pulled his wife towards him.
‘Fourteen minutes? How come? Are you planning on doing it twice?’ She squealed as her husband bit her neck and dragged her under the covers.
It was a couple of hours later that Grace sat up and noticed she was alone in the bed. She reached to grab her T-shirt from the floor where it had fallen and slipped her arms into it. She felt the cool cotton touch her skin and shivered. Maybe those pyjamas weren’t such a bad idea. Her feet touched the carpet and she rubbed her eyes, wondering whether to wake Chloe up and give her Calpol or whether to let her sleep on. I’ll see how she looks.
Creaking the door open slowly, she saw Tom, lying on the rug by the side of Chloe’s bed. The little cushion that usually sat on her bed was under his head and his dressing gown was draped over his torso for warmth.
She opened the airing cupboard and pulled out the old quilted blanket they used for picnics and tent-making with Chloe, and spread it over her husband.
He lifted his head. ‘Thank you. She was a bit groggy and had a slight temperature. I’ve given her a slug of Calpol and she’s gone back off.’
‘You should have woken me up!’ Grace whispered.
‘I wanted you to sleep, I know you’re not feeling too great.’
‘Bless you. Want to swap? I’m happy to take the rug for a bit,’ she offered. It reminded her of when Chloe was a little baby and they’d cared for her in shifts, sharing the feeds, the naps, taking it in turns to doze when they could. Happy times.
‘No, we’re fine. You go get your beauty sleep and when she gets up in the morning, you can give her her breakfast and I’ll grab forty winks then.’
‘Sure.’ Grace bent over and laid two fingers gently against her daughter’s cheek. ‘Poor little thing, she does feel a bit toasty. She’s been through it today.’ She straightened. ‘If you need me, just shout, love. I’ll leave the doors open.’
‘Love love, Grace.’ His words cut through the darkness.
She turned and looked at the outline of her man, lying on the floor, being the best dad in the whole wide world. ‘Love love, darling.’
Grace woke before her 5 a.m. alarm and patted the empty space where Tom should have been. Remembering where he was, she crept into Chloe’s room. She pulled the cover up over her little girl, who looked a little flushed, then knelt on the floor and moved her hair away from her face with her fingers. Chloe began to cry. Not her usual cry, interspersed with demands or comments, but a high whine that Grace didn’t recognise. She lifted her daughter and held her close as Tom sat up.
‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s just woken up. Feels a bit hot and she’s still groggy, aren’t you, my darling?’ Grace kissed her face as Chloe’s head flopped onto her mum’s shoulder.
‘D’you think she might have got your bug?’ Tom wondered as he yawned and stretched his back, his hands above his head.
‘Oh God, Tom, I think you’re right! I’ll give her some more Calpol and get her changed. She’s all sweaty. Clean PJs and a freshen-up will make her feel better.’
Grace carried their daughter through to their bedroom and laid her in the middle of the bed. Chloe was uncharacteristically quiet. Grace removed her nappy, which was still dry at the front, but with evidence of an upset tum.
‘I need to get you drinking, little Chlo. How about a bot-bot? We haven’t done that for a while. Would you like a bottle?’ Grace knew if she could make it into a game, Chloe was more likely to participate.
Chloe opened her eyes briefly and seemed to look past her mum, as though still asleep, her gaze and focus a little off.
Grace changed her into a clean, fresh nightdress and ran a cool, damp sponge over her face and hands. Chloe cried quietly, her face crumpled.
‘Oh, darling! Don’t cry!’
‘I’m a bit worried about her.’ Tom leant on the bed and looked at his little girl. ‘She doesn’t look right.’
‘Me too. What should we do? Shall I give the ward a ring?’ Grace chewed her lip, not wanting to make a fuss, especially at this early hour, but wanting her mind put at rest nonetheless.
‘Yeah, I think so. They did say to give them a shout, didn’t they?’ Tom shared her hesitancy. ‘I’ll lie here with her while you call them.’
Grace trod the stairs in search of her handbag. It wasn’t seven o’clock yet; she hoped she’d catch them before they got too busy.
The call was answered almost immediately and Grace explained the situation.
‘So you think she might have your bug?’ the nurse asked.
‘I think so, yes. I’ve been feeling groggy, bit of a temperature, just… you know, off colour.’ She didn’t know how to explain it.
‘And Chloe is displaying the same symptoms?’
‘Yes. She’s just woken up and isn’t really with it, if you know what I mean.’ Grace gave a small laugh to cover her awkwardness.
‘Has she been sick?’
‘No.’ Grace shook her head.
‘Does she have any bleeding from her surgery?’
‘No. Not as far as I can see.’
‘And she’s sleeping okay?’
‘Yes. Yes, as I say, quite drowsy. A bit, you know, out of sorts.’ Grace slapped her thigh, wishing she could find the words.
‘It sounds like she might have your bug. And remember, coming into hospital can unsettle them and an anaesthetic is never nice. I expect it’s probably just a combination of that. I would guard against bringing her into the ward if you think she does have a bug, but it’s your call really. If you are worried, then of course bring her in and we’ll get her checked over.’
‘I think she just wants to sleep,’ Grace concluded.
‘It’s the best thing for her if she’s feeling poorly.’ The nurse spoke kin
dly; it was reassuring.
‘That’s what Mr Portland said,’ Grace recalled.
‘If her temperature gives you cause for concern or there are any other major changes, then call back or, as I say, just bring her in.’
‘Okay, thank you. Hope I haven’t wasted your time.’
‘Not at all.’ The nurse sounded sympathetic. ‘Hope you both feel better soon!’
Grace relayed the news to Tom that they were best to let her sleep, then she covered them both with the duvet and made her way downstairs to the sofa. She hated feeling under par and hoped that an hour or two of shuteye would do the trick. She’d text Jayney after eight to say she was going to be a little late in.
When she woke, still in a dreamy stupor, it took a second for Grace to remember where she was and why she was on the sofa. She smiled at the sound of movement overhead. Tom was as good as his word, up every few hours with his unreliable bladder and checking on Chloe while he was at it.
They say life turns on a penny.
They say that things can change in a second.
They say that once life has changed, it is almost impossible to imagine what it was like before.
These were the seconds before.
One…
Two…
Three…
It was almost simultaneous. Grace looked at the digital display on her phone and read 9.15 at the exact moment that the deafening sound of a stranger in their house filled her head. It had to be a stranger; it was no voice she recognised, no sound that she had heard before. Was it a person? An animal? She couldn’t tell. Her heart raced and felt as if it was beating in her throat. Her bowels turned to ice.
It was a scream, a guttural yell, a primal noise that came from the pit of a stomach and was intended to travel up to the highest point in the sky and down to the deepest depths of the earth.
Grace jumped and shivered. Petrified, rooted for a second or two to the spot where she sat, unsure of what to do next, unsure of how to make her legs move or how to stop her body from shaking.
‘Tom?’ she called, but fear had turned her voice to a whisper.
‘Tom?’ she called again, trying to fathom what was happening. Who was screaming? Where was that noise coming from? What should I do? I don’t know what to do.
Three-And-A-Half Heartbeats Page 6
