‘Sssh.’ He strokes my hair and lets me cry onto his shoulder. ‘Sssh, sssh, sssh.’
Sobs continue to wrack my body but I’m soothed by the pressure of his hand on my head and the soft sound of his voice in my ear. It reminds me of scooping Charlotte up when she was a toddler and had a nasty fall or bump. I’d press her to me and stroke her hair until her tears dried up.
‘That’s it,’ Brian says as I shift in his arms so I can press a tissue to my nose. ‘We don’t want to upset Charlotte, do we?’
We’re in the hospital. I asked Brian to drive me straight here after I’d visited the care home. I was terrified of leaving Charlotte alone in case she died too.
‘There’s nothing you could have done,’ Brian says as he helps me into the chair next to Charlotte’s bed and presses a box of tissues into my lap. ‘It was too sudden, Mary said.’
She said the same to me. One minute Mum was right as rain, shuffling her way from the dining room to her bedroom with Mary at her side, propping up her elbow, and the next she was a crumpled heap on the floor. ‘She just collapsed,’ Mary said. ‘There were no signs, no warning at all, she just went.’ A doctor was called but, even though he arrived within ten minutes it was too late. She’d already gone.
I couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Mum was lying on her duvet in her grey tweed skirt, white blouse and beige cardigan. When I gently stroked her cheek I was shocked to find she was still warm.
‘Quick!’ I stared up at Mary. ‘Get the doctor back. There’s been a mistake. She’s still warm.’ I stood up and put a hand on Mum’s chest. ‘Do you know CPR? It might not be too late.’
‘Sue.’ Mary put a hand on my shoulder. ‘She’s dead. I’m sorry.’
‘But …’ I looked at Mum’s cheek, expecting it to twitch in her sleep, to see a thin line of drool winding its way down from her open mouth to her jawbone, but I saw nothing. She was utterly still. That’s when I accepted that she was dead. Not because her mouth was closed and her hands were crossed over her chest but because the room was too still, too quiet, even with Mary and I talking. I’d never seen Mum so peaceful before.
‘She’ll be warm for a little while longer,’ Mary said softly. ‘They don’t go cold until about eight hours after they’ve passed.’
‘Can I hold her hand?’
She nodded her head and I lifted my mother’s hand from the duvet, cradling its sparrow’s weight.
‘I’ll leave you alone,’ Mary said, ‘I’ll be in the office if there’s anything you need.’ And then she was gone.
I don’t know how long I stayed in that room – ten minutes or ten hours – but it wasn’t long enough. Even after I’d said my goodbyes, even after I’d told Mum everything I wished I’d told her when she was alive, even after I’d run out of things to say and sat there with my head nestled into her side, her hand still in mine, it still wasn’t enough time. I wanted to stay there forever because I knew, the second I stepped out of that tiny eight by six room, that I’d never see her again.
At some point Mary appeared with a cup of tea. She pressed it wordlessly into my hands and made to move off but I called after her.
‘Yes?’ She turned back.
‘She didn’t have any visitors, did she? Mother. Her … nephew didn’t come back after the last time?’
She shook her head. ‘Your mother hasn’t had any visitors since you were last here. Were you expecting someone?’
Relief flooded through me. ‘No. No one.’
‘Have you told her?’ Brian presses a polystyrene cup into my hands and glances at Charlotte. ‘About her Nan?’
‘No,’ I take a sip of boiling tea, my eyes on my daughter’s sleeping face, ‘I want her to wake up thinking the world is a beautiful, safe place, not somewhere dark and sad.’
‘It’s not all darkness and sadness,’ Brian says, ‘though I understand why you’d say that given what’s happened but the world doesn’t have to be …’
I stop listening. Charlotte’s too afraid to wake up. I know she is. I’ve felt sure ever since I was told about the accident and now I know why. I was so close to finding out more about her blackmailer yesterday but then Mary rang and I sped off in my car leaving Keisha peering out through the front room blinds. I couldn’t tell if she was relieved I was leaving, or scared.
I’ve texted her four times since I left yesterday and called twice but I haven’t had a reply. I tried again, about five minutes ago, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation – the ankle, an extended trip to A&E, changing her mind about going to the police – but it doesn’t matter which excuse I feed myself, I still can’t unknot the tight twist in my stomach. Something’s happened. Something terrible.
‘What’s up?’
I jump at the sound of Brian’s voice.
‘You’re not still blaming yourself for what happened to your mum, are you?’
I shake my head but I’m astonished at how insightful he can be. Right sentiment, wrong person.
‘I need to go,’ I say. ‘There’s something very important I need to do.’
Brian nods and reaches for his newspaper. ‘Your mum would be proud of you, Sue.’
‘And you’re quite sure?’ I say into the phone as I park outside Keisha’s flat and turn off the engine. ‘You’re quite sure that’s she’s gone to Ireland?’
‘You tell me.’ Danny sounds irritated. ‘You were the last one to see her. What the hell did you say?’
I can’t work out if he’s genuinely concerned or worried that I told her about his infidelity with the blonde.
‘Nothing.’
‘You promised me, Sue. When I gave you Keisha’s address you promised me you wouldn’t say anything.’