Wish You Were Here

Chapter 29



Alice was searching for the cheapest flight to Athens on her computer at home when the phone rang. It was her father’s nursing home.

‘Alice? I think you should come quickly,’ Sam told her. ‘It’s your father. He’s asking for you.’

Sam was there to greet Alice when she arrived half an hour later.

‘How is he?’ she asked as she walked into reception.

‘Not good,’ Sam said. ‘He had an uneasy night. He was calling out for you.’

Tears pricked Alice’s eyes. ‘Can I see him?’

‘Of course. He’s in his room.’

Alice took the stairs up to the first floor and ran down the corridor that led to her father’s room. She knocked lightly on the door and then went in. Her father was sitting up in bed, a blank expression on his face.

‘Dad?’ Alice was beside him in a moment, sitting on the bed and taking his huge hands in her tiny ones. ‘Are you okay?’

He didn’t answer but kept staring straight ahead. Finally, he spoke.

‘Where are they, Stella?’

‘Dad – it’s not Stella. It’s Alice.’ She squeezed his hands.

‘Where are they?’ he persisted.

‘Where’s what?’

‘The papers. The papers I signed.’

‘I don’t have any papers, Dad. I’m Alice.’ She frowned. What on earth was he talking about?

‘I shouldn’t have signed them,’ he said. ‘What have you done with them? I need to talk to Alice.’

‘Daddy – it is Alice. Look at me!’ But, even as she cupped his face in her hands, he didn’t seem to be focusing on anything.

It was then that Sam appeared at the door. ‘Everything okay?’ he said. ‘I heard raised voices.’

‘He keeps talking about some papers,’ Alice said. ‘He seems to think that he’s signed something. Do you know anything about it?’

Sam shook his head. ‘No, but I’ve heard him talk about it before. He’s been having these episodes when he doesn’t make any sense at all,’ Sam said as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. ‘And it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, some patients have been known to create whole worlds which simply don’t exist other than in their mind. Like dear Mrs Plendign on the ground floor. She has whole conversations with her daughter, Rose, but she never had any children. Then there’s Mr Folger who talks about his brother all the time but he died over fifty years ago. To hear him, though, you’d think he was still around.’ Sam scratched his chin. ‘It’s sometimes impossible to know what residents are talking about. Maybe your father’s confused about something that happened years ago.’

Alice looked at her father’s pale face and picked his hands up again. She sat there with him for another hour until he fell asleep and she thought it best if she left.

The residents of the home were watching Some Like It Hot in the lounge. It was film night – one of her father’s favourite nights of the week – and he was missing it. Mind you, half of the people in the lounge had nodded off too.

Sam stood up from where he’d been kneeling beside Mr Keely. The old man had a habit of kicking his shoes off and then getting up and tripping over them but Sam had double knotted the laces this time.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked as he approached Alice.

‘He’s asleep,’ she told him.

‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’

‘Thank you,’ Alice said, turning to go.

‘Alice?’

She stopped as Sam caught up with her, the breathy sound of Marilyn Monroe singing I Wanna be Loved by You reaching her. ‘Yes?’

His eyes took on a wistful look and Alice swallowed. ‘It might not be appropriate for me to tell you this but I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the most wonderful—’

‘You’re right, Sam,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘It isn’t appropriate.’ And, without delay, she made a beeline for the door, realising that she had to get home and book that flight to Athens right away.

* * *

Something was throbbing with pain but Milo couldn’t tell what exactly. He tried to move and winced. Everything seemed to hurt and he cursed to himself as he realised what had happened.

He lifted his head and instantly regretted it. He was still wearing his helmet but it felt like a cannonball on his head as he looked around and saw that he’d landed on a rocky ledge about twenty feet below the road. Where was his bike? He tried to sit up and cried out. He felt like a gigantic bruise. He only hoped he hadn’t broken anything. He was still miles from home and it was beginning to get dark.

Taking his helmet off and turning round, he peered over the ledge to where the land tumbled away towards the sea. There was nothing but rock and scrub but Milo soon spotted something else. His moped – his beautiful moped.

He swore to himself. He could see that it was totally beyond repair – its silver body broken and dying on the mountainside because of his carelessness. He sank back down for a moment and closed his eyes. Could the day get any worse? At least he’d been spared the fall, he thought. He could so easily have gone tumbling down the mountain too and could, at this very moment, be dying right alongside his moped.

‘Be thankful for that,’ he told himself as he got up with a groan and dusted himself down. His jeans were ripped and his jacket was torn but nothing appeared to be broken. He had to get off this ledge but his head was pounding and he couldn’t think straight so he stood for a few moments, listening to the distant hush of the sea far below then, reaching up to grasp the branch of an ancient tree, and hoping it would take his weight, he levered himself up from the ledge and scrambled over the rocks to the road above.

From there, it was a long, slow and painful walk to the nearest village where he managed to convince somebody that he wasn’t a complete madman and that he really needed a lift home.

As soon as he got back, he slumped onto the sofa in the living room and rang his brother’s number but, of course, there was no reply. Georgio wasn’t likely to answer the phone, was he?

The house was so quiet without his little sister and he sat staring at the empty yellow armchair that she loved so much and in which she wasn’t sitting. It was full of her dolls that she always refused to put away and he was glad of their silent company tonight. It was as if a little bit of Tiana was present in their glassy eyes.

He felt so hollow inside – as if a huge chunk had been cut out of him and he realised that it had been. Tiana was a part of him and he couldn’t bear to be without her.