Page 72 of Always, in December

Before she could answer, her phone rang and she jumped, then scrambled for it. Her heart picked up speed and her palms felt immediately cold and clammy. It was three in the morning – there was only one reason Helen could be calling her right now. She answered on the third ring.

‘Darling, they’re taking her in for surgery – they found something, I don’t know . . .’ There was a gulp of air. ‘She’s going in for a triple bypass now, we haven’t been allowed to see her first.’ Max’s face seemed to drain of colour to match how Josie felt. ‘It’s not . . . They haven’t said it means anything terrible, just that it needs to be done but, well, it’s open-heart surgery and she’s been bumped up the waiting list and . . .’

‘I’m on my way.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They got a taxi to the hospital. Helen was waiting outside for them, her face illuminated by the almost fluorescent lighting, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold, a blue and gold scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Josie’s throat was too tight to speak as Helen smiled tightly at them both, then gestured inside.

They followed, and Josie dimly noticed that they were going a different way to last time. Everything seemed too bright, too clinical, as they walked along the corridors. ‘She’s in surgery now,’ Helen said, answering Josie’s silent plea for information. ‘I can’t understand half the garbage the doctors are telling us and they refuse to stand still long enough to explain everything properly. She got bumped up the list for surgery is all I know – they needed to get her in there.’

Josie nodded, though she pressed her lips together to stop herself from speaking. That doesn’t sound good, is what she wanted to say, but she refused to let herself say anything that would make anyone worry more. Helen led them into the ICU waiting room.

‘It’s where she’ll be once she’s out of surgery,’ Helen explained, when she saw Josie looking around. Helen led them towards Josie’s grandad, who was standing so still it looked unnatural, staring at the glass door. It had no distinguishable handle anywhere, but was presumably where they’d be going once Memo was out. When, Josie told herself. Not if.

Josie sank into the nearest chair, preparing herself for the wait. Her body felt rigid, like it was locking in place to keep her together, and her mind felt strangely blank. At some point she was aware of Max coming to sit next to her, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly.

After a while, Helen stepped outside to take a call, though Josie had no idea who she could be speaking to right now. Max did two separate coffee runs, and at one point brought back several bars of chocolate. No one touched them, though her grandad had given him a weak smile at the thought, from his position closest to the glass door. Later, Max went out and reappeared with more painkillers and a bottle of water for himself, though adamantly refused to leave when Josie suggested he should. She was drifting in and out of bleary sleep, her head on his shoulder, when, towards nine in the morning, just as official visiting hours were starting, Helen jumped to her feet.

Josie sat up immediately, Max giving her hand a little squeeze, and watched as an older man, with grey hair and a slight bulge at his belly, walked towards them. He smiled at her grandad.

Smiled.

Josie’s body started to melt, her hands began to tremble in relief, before the doctor even spoke to them.

Josie stood when he reached them, she, her grandad, Helen and Max forming a tight little semicircle. ‘She’s ok?’ Josie demanded.

‘Well, she’s got a long recovery ahead of her,’ the doctor said calmly, ‘and we need to keep her here for a few more weeks, but she came through the surgery ok, which is a really positive sign. She’s coming around now, if you’d like to see her.’

Josie’s grandad nodded, swallowed, and stepped towards the glass door ahead of the doctor. Josie went to him, squeezed his arm, and he managed a weak smile back at her. He looked terrible, and she hoped she’d manage to get him home at some point soon to eat a proper meal and sleep. She glanced back at Max as they were led away by the doctor, through the door which he had to open with a special pass.

Max was rubbing his neck as if it were sore. ‘You go ahead, I don’t want to crowd her.’

Josie frowned. ‘Are you ok?’

He smiled then, though it looked a little stiff. ‘Yeah, it’s just this headache. I’ll go and get some fresh air and walk it off, and I’ll pick up coffee for everyone on the way back.’ Josie hesitated, biting her lip. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. Go and see your grandmother, and I’ll be . . .’

Josie cocked her head. ‘Outside?’

Max blinked, then nodded. ‘Right. Outside.’

She hesitated again, unwilling to leave him if he was in pain, after what he’d just done for her, but the doctor was still waiting for them and she had to see Memo. She couldn’t think of anything to say to him that encompassed what she felt in that moment, the fact that he’d stayed with her, had seemed to know exactly what she needed without being told. Instead, she nodded, and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

Helen, however, turned to walk back to Max, even though, in Josie’s opinion, now was hardly the time to interrogate him on his intentions. Josie only caught a bit of their exchange before she turned the corner with the doctor and her grandad – Helen seemed to be saying something, and when Max shook his head, Helen rested a hand on his arm. Josie frowned slightly, but her attention was immediately diverted by the doctor, and when she looked over her shoulder, Max was walking away.

In the hospital room, Memo lay there, looking more fragile than Josie had ever seen her, her hair a little greasy on the white pillow, her hospital gown overly large on her thin body. Josie took a slow, steadying breath. The doctor had smiled, she reminded herself. Then Memo’s eyelids fluttered open, as if she’d heard the footsteps, and one side of her mouth crooked into a smile. ‘The way you’re all looking at me, you’d think I was some kind of miracle,’ she croaked, the words sounding like they hurt her to get out. Next to Josie, her grandad let out a sob, and crossed the room to take her hand as the doctor did some quick checks. Helen came in behind Josie and they went to the other side of the bed, Helen putting a hand on Josie’s back as if to reassure them both. Though her aching facial muscles protested, Josie worked up a smile for Memo. She was standing firm on her oath not to cry in front of her – she didn’t want to let her know how terrified they’d all been.

‘How are you doing, Mum?’ Helen asked softly.

‘Oh peachy,’ Memo said, her voice even hoarser the second time, and a little slurred. ‘You know, for someone who’s just had their chest cut open.’

Josie blinked away the tears, but Memo still seemed to notice because she reached out, her movements stiff, and Josie took her hand, squeezing it as gently as she could. Outside, there was the sound of a commotion, someone being rushed through the corridor, reminding Josie just how close to death Memo had been.

‘I’ve got a quote for you’ Memo croaked.

Josie frowned. ‘What?’

‘Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.’