‘Great. So,’ I maintain eye contact, ‘where were you this morning, Brian?’
My husband says nothing for a couple of seconds. Instead he runs a hand over his face and takes a few deep breaths. I wonder if he’s steadying himself, hiding his eyes from me so I can’t see the lies he’s fabricating now I’ve confronted him.
‘I …’ he looks at me, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘I was going to see Charlotte.’
‘You didn’t! We were both there when the consultant said—’
‘Sue.’ He holds up a hand and I bite my tongue. ‘I was planning on seeing Charlotte this morning. I planned it days ago. I know you can’t bear it when she’s left alone so I was going to surprise you, suggest that you take yourself into town to get a manicure or a haircut or a new dress or something while I sat with her. Then, last night, the consultant told us about the tests and that pretty much scuppered my plans so …’
‘So?’ I say the word so loudly Milly lifts her head from carpet and looks at me.
‘So I went into town instead. I visited the library, went for a swim, did a bit of shopping and just had a bit of …’ he cringes, ‘I guess you’d call it “me time”.’
‘Me time?’
‘Yes.’ He looks me straight in the eye.
‘So you took the morning off to give me some … me time … and when the consultant told us that we couldn’t visit Charlotte you decided to have some … me time … for yourself instead?’
He shrugs uncomfortably. ‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘When?’
‘When you came in just now? Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Sue.’ Brian slumps forward, his head in his hands. ‘I really don’t need this. I really don’t.’
‘But …’ I can’t finish my sentence. The whole situation suddenly seems faintly ridiculous and I’m not sure why I’m continuing to argue. Brian planned a treat for me and it fell through so he took a few hours to himself. That’s perfectly reasonable. So he didn’t walk through the door and tell me all about it – so what? I’m not his keeper, he doesn’t have to report his every move to me – I’d never do that to him, not after what James put me through.
I look at the hunched, tired shape on the other end of the sofa. He looked so fresh, so optimistic when he walked in ten minutes ago. He looks ten years older now.
‘I’m sorry.’ I reach out a hand and lay it on his shoulder.
Brian says nothing.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room tick-tocks the minutes away.
‘Brian,’ I say softly. ‘Please look at me.’
After an age he peels his fingers away from his face and looks up at me. ‘I don’t want to argue, Sue, not after everything that’s happened.’
‘Me neither.’
I squeeze his shoulder and he reaches a hand around and lays it on mine. The warmth of his palm on my skin has an immediate calming effect and I exhale heavily.
‘Okay?’ Brian says, his eyes searching mine.
I’m about to nod, to pull him close for a hug, to lose myself in the warm, musky scent of him when a thought hits me.
‘Was the pool busy?’ I ask. ‘When you went for your swim?’
Brian looks confused then smiles a split second later. ‘Rammed. Bloody kids everywhere. Half term isn’t it, so what did I expect?’
I don’t know what you expected, I think as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, but I’d have expected it to be pretty damned empty considering it closed for renovations two weeks ago.
We sit by Charlotte’s bedside in silence; Brian holding one of her hands, me holding the other. The heart monitor bleeps steadily in the corner of her room. We didn’t speak on the way in but we often keep a companionable silence in the car, particularly when the radio’s on, and Brian had no reason to think there was anything unusual about the fact I spent the whole journey staring out of the window. I was trying to decide what to do – to confront him about his swimming pool lie or bite my tongue and pretend everything is fine. I chose the latter – for now.
‘They still haven’t fixed the emergency button,’ I say. My voice sounds horribly loud in the small room.
Brian looks at the grubby yellow tape covering the red button above Charlotte’s bed. ‘Typical. I don’t suppose they’ve sorted the TV either.’
I reach for the remote control and press a button. The TV flickers to life and we watch Bargain Hunt for all of thirty seconds before the screen fills with white noise. I turn it off again.
‘It’s a bloody joke.’ Brian shakes his head. ‘I’ve campaigned for – and achieved – a three-fold budget increase for this hospital and it’s still falling down around our ears. And don’t even get me started on MRSA. Have you seen the grime on the windowsill? What do the cleaners actually do here? Mist each room with eau de bleach then go for a fag?’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’ I pull an antiseptic wipe out of the packet on Charlotte’s bedside table and wipe down the windowsill, then the frame of Charlotte’s bed and the door handle. ‘I think they’re just overstretched.’
‘They should still fix that bloody button. What are we supposed to do in an emergency? Wave a white flag out the window?’