Annie passed over her mobile, scrolling through to the number. “Sharon. Ask for Sharon. Say I’ve had a nervous collapse or something.”
She had to stuff her sleeves in her mouth to keep from laughing during the phone call. “The thing is, Sharon—can I call you Sharon?...Thank you. You have such a kind voice, Sharon. The thing is, poor Ms. Hebden’s just been working so hard with her mother and her sick friend, we’ve had to keep her in for observation. We think she needs a tonic for her poor nerves.” He was alternating between a noble No?l Coward voice and a stoical Cockney one. “You know what I’m talking about, Sharon. I can tell that you do...Me? Oh, my name’s Kent Brockwood. Chief staff nurse here at the hospital. We do admire Ms. Hebden ever so much. She’s so noble. Upper lip stiffer than a big steel girder...Thank you. God bless you, Sharon.” He hung up, handing the phone back with a flourish.
She mimed a miniround of applause. “Give that man a Tony Award.”
“I try.”
“Where were you even from, Kent Brockwood?”
“Bow by way of Letterkenny, I think. She’ll leave you alone for a few days now, I reckon. And you can stagger in full of noble suffering, and if you’re really lucky you’ll be sent home.” Being sent home from work was the ultimate win. You’d made the effort to go in, but you were really too sick to be there, so you could leave with impunity.
“‘You have such a kind voice, Sharon.’” Annie giggled. “It was brilliant. So, now we go to Thorpe Park?”
“Now we go to Thorpe Park. She said we should pick up Costas on the way.”
Annie looked toward Roger and Valerie, who were still arguing, voices lowered. “Should we—”
“Nah. Let’s just go. Lucky Polly. At least she gets to fake being in a coma.”
**
Outside, George raised an arm to hail a taxi. Annie held back. “Isn’t it kind of far? Train, maybe?”
“Polly’s given me a load of cash. She wants us to have a good day out. And if we pick him up in a black cab—think how his little face will just light up.”
She studied George as they sank into the comfortable interior, shutting the door on rainy, gloomy Lewisham. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Zorba the Greek? He’s adorable. Too nice for this city.”
“Do you like him like him?”
“He’s a kid. And he spends his days foaming milk.”
“Come on,” Annie chided. “He’s doing his best. He works really hard.”
George looked guilty. “I know. He’s just—he’s so happy, you know? It makes me feel guilty. He’s alone over here, away from his family, getting nowhere with his career. But he’s cheerful. He’s sunny. Even when he’s having a shit time at work.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Oh. We—we’re in the same gym, it turns out.”
“You joined a gym? I thought that was just a lie you told your mum to get out of the house.”
“Yes, yes, I thought it was time to start fulfilling gay stereotypes. We’re going to a Barbra Streisand concert next. Anyway, like I say, he’s too young for me.”
“He’s twenty-two. You’re twenty-nine. And haven’t you only been out for, like, two minutes?”
He shrugged it off. “I was in a small uncomfortable closet for some time. As you’ve seen, my mother is very much not okay about her precious boy associating with nasty gays in leathers and drag. That’s how she pictures it, anyway. What’s your point?”
“So, Costas might be older than you in gay years. Is that a thing? Like dog years?”
“Oh, it’s a thing. I’m practically ancient at my age.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty-eight.” She nudged him. “What would Polly say? ‘Seize the day! Jump off a cliff! Pee in the wind!’ And so on.”
He sighed. “Maybe. I hear you, okay? But for now, with Polly, and since I’m trying to stay away from Caleb, it’s just nice to have a friend, you know?”
She smiled at him. Pictured rolling up to get Costas, how happy he’d be at the prospect of a day out. “I do know. Yes.”
*
“Ready?”
“Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.”
“I should not have eaten the floss of candy.” Costas was pale. The roller coaster—an utterly terrifying one that dipped and twisted—was slowly winching them up, and up, and up. Annie felt her stomach churn with the burger, fries and milk shake she’d also wolfed down. She wasn’t eighteen. This would have consequences. Down below, the people on the ground were so small. So far down.
“Here we go!” They were picking up speed. Her knuckles turned white. She felt Costas gripping her hand and, on his other side, George’s. In his free hand George held up his phone, secured to his wrist by a strap. “Right!” he shouted, over the growing noise of the machinery. “Big smiles and don’t swear—ahhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Holy Christ! We’re going to die!”
DAY 44
Reaffirm your goals
“F***! F***! Holy Christ! We’re going to die!”
George peered at the screen of Polly’s iPad. “You can hardly hear me over those beeps Suze put in.”
“She had to,” said Polly. “This baby’s going viral. Ten thousand views already of the YouTube video. The fundraising site’s getting mad traffic because of it.”
“Really?” George perked up. “I better add a link to my casting page.”
“Yeah, you can be that brother of brave cancer survivor Polly Leonard—what was his name again, the one who swore on the roller coaster?”
He stuck his tongue out. “It was bloody scary, wasn’t it, Annie?”
“I threw up in a bin afterward,” she said. “Can you see me on the video? I don’t think work will believe that the cure for my sudden nerve condition was going on the scariest roller coaster in Europe.”
“It’ll be fine,” said Polly. She was looking much better, her cheeks flushed from laughing at the video, sitting up in bed. “No one in your office can even work the internet, can they?”
“Only Farm World on Facebook,” said Annie. “I better go, though. I can’t be late again.”
*
Annie couldn’t stop smiling to herself, thinking of the roller coaster video. It was so stupid. So funny.
“You look happy,” said a dour Scottish voice. Dr. Max was standing at the vending machine again, staring into it as if great wisdom was to be found between the Twixes and Bountys.
Annie felt ashamed. She shouldn’t be smiling when Polly was dying. “Are you trying to decide what chocolate bar to get?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Patient just died on my table.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”
“Ten years old. Couldn’t do a damn thing for him, the tumor was so big.” She could see his face reflected in the glass of the machine, exhausted and disappointed.
“At least you tried,” Annie said timidly.
“Tried. Tried and failed.” He shook himself and began stabbing buttons until a Mars bar tumbled out. “Better get back. See you, Annie.”
*
Going out, she saw Jonny, the homeless guy, sitting at the bus stop. He caught her eye and she felt too ashamed to look away. “Hi.”
“Hello. Rough time?”
“My friend’s pretty sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said politely. His fingers in raggedy gloves were dirty and sore.