Should Have Known Better

by A J McDine

  Kate’s shoulders drooped. ‘OK,’ she said wearily. ‘If you’re sure.’

  The paramedics busied themselves lifting her father onto a stretcher, draping a blanket over him and fixing an oxygen mask to his face. Under the blanket, he looked smaller, diminished, as if the life force was already leaching out of him. Kate shook the thought away. He would be fine. He was as strong as an ox.

  ‘Had you better phone Uncle Rory?’ Chloe asked as she climbed into the ambulance.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll phone him from the house then follow you in.’

  The ambulance door clunked shut and Kate was left alone in the gloom. She waved as the vehicle accelerated away, even though she knew Chloe couldn’t see her. When it reached the road, its sirens and blue lights burst into life, and Kate watched as it vanished into the distance. She rubbed her face and stared at the fishing paraphernalia scattered at her feet, wondering how the hell she was going to carry it all home. Then she looked skywards. Kate hadn’t been to church since her mother’s funeral. Truth was, she hadn’t been able to face it. She called herself an agnostic if ever anyone asked. But suddenly she felt an overwhelming need to send a plea to the Almighty.

  ‘Please God,’ she said, her voice scratchy. ‘Let him be all right.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  CHLOE

  Chloe hated hospitals, detested everything about them. The squeaky floors and the sharp tang of disinfectant. The hushed voices and the despairing faces. And the sick people, everywhere you looked. The old, the frail and the ailing. People waiting for outpatients’ appointments, for blood tests, for X-rays, for death. And weaving among them, with their clipboards and sympathetic expressions, the hospital staff. Smiley nurses, earnest-faced junior doctors and, at the top of the tree, the god-like consultants wielding, so it seemed to her, the power of life and death.

  One stood in front of Chloe now. An impossibly handsome dark-haired man in his late thirties with pearly-white teeth, a dark pirate’s beard and an accent she couldn’t quite place. Italian or Spanish, probably.

  ‘Chloe Kennedy?’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Dr Martinez, the A&E consultant.’

  Spanish then.

  ‘Are you Mr Kennedy’s next of kin?’

  ‘Well, no. I’m his granddaughter. But my mum, his daughter, will be here any minute. She’s trying to find somewhere to park.’ Chloe turned at the sound of her name. ‘In fact, there she is.’

  They watched her mum scurry into the waiting room, pale-faced and clutching the grip of Grandpa’s shabby overnight bag in one hand.

  ‘Is he going to be OK?’ she said, dropping the bag to the floor.

  ‘The good news is that Mr Kennedy has regained consciousness,’ Dr Martinez said.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ her mum said, squeezing Chloe’s hand. ‘Was it a heart attack?’

  The doctor paused. ‘Not according to the ECG but we’re still waiting on the results of the blood tests.’

  ‘So what then?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘We’ve ruled out a stroke and a pulmonary embolism. A cardiac arrest is still a possibility, but personally, I’m not convinced. It’s an odd one.’ He pulled on his beard. ‘We’re giving him oxygen as his levels are lower than we’d like. He’s sleepy and confused, but there’s no mention of dementia in his records…’ Dr Martinez cocked an eyebrow at them.

  ‘Well…’ Chloe began.

  Her mum shook her head. ‘No dementia,’ she said firmly.

  ‘So we can only assume that his confusion is related to today’s episode.’ There was a beep, and the doctor gave them an apologetic smile as he reached for his pager. He frowned as he read the message. ‘I’m afraid I have to go. We may know more when the blood results come back. Mr Kennedy is resting now, but you are welcome to go and see him.’

  He made to leave, then stopped and turned to them. ‘Is Mr Kennedy on any kind of anti-anxiety medication?’

  Chloe’s mum blinked. ‘Pa? No. Why?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing. It’s just that he’s presenting like someone who’s been given…’ He shook his head as his pager beeped again. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll let you know when the test results are in.’ He gave a brief nod and strode off, leaving Chloe and her mum staring at his back.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Chloe said.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea. Come on, let’s find Grandpa shall we?’

  They found him in a bay of six beds in the acute medical unit. His eyes were closed, and an oxygen tube was attached to his nose. Chloe ignored the butterflies in her stomach and took his liver-spotted hand. His eyes fluttered open.

  ‘Katie, is that you?’

  ‘It’s me, Chloe,’ she said, trying not to cry. ‘But Mum’s here, too.’

  ‘Oh, Pa, what happened?’ Her mum took his other hand and stroked his cheek.

  Confusion clouded his eyes. ‘I can’t say that I know. One minute I was fishing, and the next I wake up in this poor excuse for a hotel. I shan’t be returning. I can promise you that. The customer service leaves a lot to be desired.’

  ‘Oh Grandpa,’ Chloe said, and despite the seriousness of the situation, she felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle. ‘It’s a hospital, not a hotel. You had a funny turn while you were out. We had to call an ambulance. We thought you’d had a heart attack.’

  ‘A heart attack? Did I? I don’t remember.’ He jerked his hand free and pulled on the oxygen tube at his nose.

  Chloe’s eyebrows shot up, and she snatched his hand away. ‘Don’t do that, Grandpa. It’s only oxygen to help you feel better.’

  ‘The doctor doesn’t think it was a heart attack,’ her mum said. ‘They’re doing some tests to see what happened. Hopefully, they’ll let you out tomorrow.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Grandpa said, closing his eyes again. ‘As long as the old ticker’s fine. You two should go. It must be getting late.’

  ‘Mum, did you remember Grandpa’s things?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve brought you a pair of pyjamas, your shaving things, your toothbrush and some toothpaste. And the crossword and a pen. There’s a fleece in case you’re cold, although it’s like a bloody oven in here.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The germs must love it. I’ve also brought a box of tissues and some bananas. They’re a bit soft, but it’s all we had in. I’ll see if I can find you some water. Won’t be a sec.’

  ‘Bye-bye Grandpa,’’ Chloe said, bending down to kiss her grandfather’s cheek. His unshaven skin felt as prickly as a thistle, but he smelt reassuringly of his favourite cologne. He patted her back.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me, Chloe. I’ll be grand. Although I wish I could remember who it was.’

  She straightened her back. ‘Who what was?’

  ‘The young chap who came to see me.’

  She frowned, then her face cleared. ‘You mean Dr Martinez? Nice, isn’t he?’

  ‘You think he likes your mother?’

  ‘I’m not sure he…’

  ‘I think he does. But don’t tell her I said so.’ He pressed a finger to his lips and chuckled. ‘Our little secret, eh?’

  Chloe nodded as her mum appeared with a jug of water. She poured Grandpa a glass and handed it to him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to stay a little longer?’

  He fixed her with his penetrating courtroom gaze. ‘Don’t fuss, Katherine. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the morning. Now go.’

  Chloe trailed after her mother along the hospital corridors and out through the main entrance. They stopped by the parking machine.

  ‘Three pounds eighty? Daylight bloody robbery,’ her mum grumbled as she fished in her purse for some change.

  ‘I think you’re wrong about Grandpa,’ Chloe blurted.

  Her mum raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You told Dr Martinez he hasn’t got dementia. But that’s only because he hasn’t been diagnosed. You’ve point blank refused to take him to the GP.’

  Chloe’s mum glanced at the queue of people behind them,
all listening avidly. ‘Can we continue this discussion in the car?’

  She shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  The Mini was parked so close to a wall that her mum had to reverse out before Chloe could climb in. She fixed her seatbelt and stared out of the window before finally beginning to speak.

  ‘Grandpa’s always forgetting stuff and losing things. He thought I was you just now!’ A sob caught at the back of her throat and she swallowed it back down.

  ‘He’s eighty-seven, and he’s had a horrid shock. He knew who you were really.’

  Chloe knew her mum was trying to placate her, but she wasn’t in the mood. Couldn’t she see what was right in front of her nose?

  ‘I keep telling you something’s wrong, but you won’t listen. You’re burying your head in the sand as per normal. Grandpa told me he thought Dr Martinez fancied you. He’s lost the plot.’

  ‘And that’s so totally ridiculous, is it? That a man might actually find me attractive?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. But think about all the weird stuff that’s been happening. My photo disappearing. Your work keys turning up at The Willows. The back door being left wide open in the middle of the night. It has to be Grandpa. I know it’s not his fault and he doesn’t mean any harm by it. But he needs professional help.’

  Her mum sighed. ‘If it’ll make you happy I’ll book an appointment with the GP once he’s home from hospital.’

  Chloe leaned back on the headrest and closed her eyes. ‘It would make me happy, yes. Thank you,’ she said.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  KATE

  Kate smoothed down her skirt and fluffed up her hair. She’d forked out over a hundred quid for highlights and a cut and blow-dry, but she didn’t begrudge a penny of it. Her mousy brown tresses were streaked with gold and caramel and felt as swishy as a model’s hair in a shampoo advert. She’d teamed her new embroidered knee-length skirt - a steal in the Boden autumn sale - with brown leather boots and a fitted jacket she’d discovered buried deep at the back of her wardrobe. With the scarf Rory had bought her for Christmas tied in what she hoped was a stylish fashion around her neck she felt, if not chic exactly, certainly more polished than in her normal go-to attire of jeans and a sweater.

  She paused outside the Victorian building that had once been a terraced house but now served as the offices of Sullivan and Son Solicitors. It was less than a hundred metres along the street from the wine bar she and Adam had met for supper all those weeks ago. She thought the night had been a success. The meal at the pub, too. He’d spent a small fortune on wine, presumably to impress her. He’d opened up about his marriage. He’d sent flowers. That all meant something, surely? But he’d gone cold on her recently. He answered texts, eventually, with polite but reserved replies. If she tried to phone, it went straight to voicemail, and he’d made no attempt to arrange a third date.

  Yet three days ago he’d turned up at the house to see her and had saved Chloe from what could have been… Kate gave a small shake of her head. No, she wouldn’t even go there. What ifs were a waste of time and emotional energy. Better to focus on life’s certainties and things she could control. And, now her father was home from hospital with Chloe babysitting, it was time to turn her attention to her love life or lack thereof.

  Kate checked in her bag for the bottle of Bordeaux she’d bought in an expensive-looking off-licence. The £30 price tag included a wrap of slate grey tissue paper which crackled extravagantly under her touch. It was a thank you to Adam for saving Chloe, although, if she was honest, it was an excuse to see him.

  The visit had been Rory’s idea. He was calling a couple of times a day from Sydney to check on their father, and the previous evening, after a condition check on the patient - improving but a little peevish - the talk had turned to Adam.

  ‘Why don’t you pop around to his office with a bottle of something classy and thank him for the Big Rescue?’

  ‘I already sent him a text,’ Kate had said, stalling.

  ‘So follow it up with a visit. Don’t write him off quite yet. You need to see the whites of his eyes. Time it just before one o’clock and offer to take him out for lunch. You’ll soon know if he’s still hot for you.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible. I’ll think about it.’ Kate had said. And she had. All night. And when she’d woken up, she’d decided she would take Rory’s advice. Because it made sense. At the moment she was treading water, unsure whether she and Adam were an item or not. At least if she saw him face-to-face, she’d be able to tell whether he was still interested. And when she’d managed to book a last-minute appointment at her favourite hair salon it hadn’t just been serendipitous, it had been an omen she couldn’t ignore.

  She was about to rap on the door when she realised it was already ajar, so she gave it a push and found herself in a wide hallway with a terracotta tiled floor, picture rails and a high ceiling. The door on her right was open, and a middle-aged woman with her steel-grey hair swept back in a bun said, ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  Kate smiled. ‘I’m afraid not. But I was passing, and I thought I’d pop my head in and see if Adam was free.’

  The secretary raised an eyebrow. ‘Mr Sullivan has someone with him at present. But you can wait if you’d like.’ She indicated a chair by the window.

  ‘Thanks.’ Kate perched on the edge of the seat, her knees and ankles together and her hands clasped in her lap.

  ‘And who shall I say is here?’

  ‘Kate Kennedy.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll buzz him and let him know you’re here. Would you like a drink while you wait?’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll have a…’

  ‘There’s a water cooler behind the door.’

  Kate felt a flush creep up her neck as she pulled a plastic cup from the water cooler and filled it. The secretary swivelled her chair around and picked up the phone. Kate sipped her water and stared out of the window at the shoppers walking by.

  ‘Can you put me through to your service department? Thanks, yes I’ll wait,’ the secretary said. ‘I’m phoning on behalf of Mr Adam Sullivan. He needs an engineer to look at his boiler. The pilot light keeps going out. Yes, next Monday afternoon would be fine. It’s forty-six Chapel Street.’ She gave the postcode. ‘Yes, someone will be in. Thank you.’

  A small carriage clock on the mantel above the fireplace chimed one o’clock. The door opposite the window opened, and a nervy-looking Asian woman trotted out, a leather bag clasped to her chest. Adam, suited and booted, appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Chen. I’ll see you next week. In the meantime, if you have any further questions, please don’t hesitate to be in touch.’

  The woman nodded and scurried out. Kate scrunched her plastic glass into a ball and stood.

  ‘Hello, Adam.’

  He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. ‘Kate. What can I do for you?’

  Aware that his secretary was pretending not to listen as she shuffled a pile of papers on her desk, Kate reached into her bag for the wine. ‘I brought you a thank you present. For saving Chloe.’

  An expression flickered across his face she couldn’t read.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ he said, standing back and holding the door open.

  ‘Don’t forget your conference call at half-past,’ the secretary called as the door closed.

  ‘Christ, which charm school did she go to?’ Kate laughed as she handed Adam the bottle.

  ‘Sylvia’s been with me since the firm opened. She’s virtually family,’ he said tightly.

  ‘Oops. My bad. I wondered if you had time to pop out for some lunch? It’s been ages since we last saw each other.’

  Adam moved to his side of the desk and sat down. Kate took a seat opposite, feeling more like a client than a girlfriend.

  ‘I don’t have time today,’ he said. ‘I have a conference call with a QC. We’re discussing a tricky child custody case. I can't miss it.’

  She felt immediately chasten
ed. ‘Of course. It was silly of me to rock up without any warning. It’s just I -’

  The phone on Adam’s desk buzzed. He held out a hand to silence her and picked up the receiver. ‘Thank you, Sylvia. Put her through.’

  Kate took in her surroundings, trying not to eavesdrop as Adam discussed protective orders and care proceedings with the person on the other end of the line.

  Adam’s enormous mahogany desk dominated the bright and airy room, which was painted duck-egg blue. On the wall behind him was a series of pen and ink drawings of London landmarks. Behind her, two low chairs were arranged round a coffee table on which sat a box of tissues. Blue and white Delft tiles edged an impressive cast iron fireplace. The desk itself was freakishly tidy, not a pen out of place.

  Adam ended the call and replaced the receiver.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. How’s Chloe?’

  ‘She’s OK, considering.’

  He frowned. ‘She told me she was feeling all right when I left on Sunday.’

  ‘Physically she’s fine, thanks to you.’ His expression remained neutral. ‘But she’s worried about her grandfather. They’re very close, you see.’

  ‘What’s happened to him?’

  ‘He had a funny turn while he was fishing the afternoon of the fire. We had to call an ambulance. He spent two nights in hospital.’

  Adam picked up a pen, then set it down again. ‘Do they know what’s wrong with him?’

  ‘They’ve ruled out a heart attack or stroke. We’re waiting for the results of the blood tests to come back. He’s feeling much better, but Chloe’s pretty cut up about it. She has study leave on a Wednesday morning so is at home with him now.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Send Chloe my best.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Adam glanced at his watch and pushed his chair back. ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to get on.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Kate took a deep breath. ‘Adam, before I go… are we OK? I mean, we got on well when we went to the wine bar and the pub, but since then you haven’t seemed… I mean… what I’m trying to say is, have I done something to upset you?’