‘Bram,’ she says, when I pick up, and the tightness in that single syllable is all I need to know that something’s wrong. All the frustration drains out of my body in a split second, panic rushing into the spaces it left. It’s all I can do just to speak.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you still out with Lucy?’ she asks, and I look down at my hand, still wrapped around Lucy’s thigh.
‘I am.’
‘Ok.’ Peggy huffs out a shaky little breath, and there’s a pause before she speaks again, which damn near kills me. ‘You need to come back to the cottage.’ I hear the tiniest of sobs before she says, quietly, ‘It’s your mum.’
The words make something cold slip down my spine, a finger of ice against my skin. Panic roars in my ears. The specialist home that I managed to get her into is brilliant at managing the day to day, so if they’ve called, it must be something serious.
But wait, I’m the first emergency contact. Whydidn’tthey call me?
I minimise the call so that I can see my notifications, and my heart sinks to my feet.
Three missed calls from Bradbury House.
It must have been while Lucy was wearing my jacket. I have the volume and vibration turned all the way down so I don’t get overwhelmed by my near-constant notifications– my senses are a little heightened, so things like that grate on me easily– but I doubt she would have been able to tell. And I was so distracted by her that I didn’t even think to check when I put my jacket back on.
Shit.
‘I’m on my way,’ I say to Peggy, and then I hang up and pocket my phone.
Lucy doesn’t say anything, but when I look back at her, her eyes are as wide as mine, and ringed with concern. My instinct is to push her away– to blame her, in a way, for me missing the calls. But I don’t do that. Instead I take a deep, steadying breath and reach out for her hand.
‘That was Peggy,’ I say as I help her off the rock, my other hand going to her waist until she finds her footing on the sand. ‘I need to go back to the cottage. It’s urgent.’
I don’t tell her the rest. I can’t bring myself to say the words, though they play on a loop in my head as I stand, half-paralysed by fear, the sea breeze whipping my hair into my face. In my periphery, I can see her studying me quietly, carefully.
‘I’ll go with you,’ she says eventually, and I feel the tiny squeeze of her hand in mine like it’s a lifeline.
We set off together, back along the harbour front and over the bridge. We pass places we visited earlier, but they seem different now, my anxiety dulling the shine of the lights in the arcades and making the smell of fresh doughnuts turn my stomach. It suddenly doesn’t feel like my Whitby anymore, andI hate it. It reminds me of being a teenager, making this same journey after I got a call a lot like this one.
Liam.
It’s your dad.
The memory makes bile rise in my chest, and I swallow it down, along with the grip of dread that’s begun to creep up my throat. And then I feel Lucy’s soft fingers tightening around mine again. There’s something about the way that she touches me, or the feeling of her skin against mine, that calms me. Just a little. Just enough to not completely lose it. I squeeze her hand gently in return– a thank you. It’s all I can do.
When we reach the cottage, Peggy is standing on the front step, a black wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks tiny there, older than I remember her being, like the weight of whatever’s happened has drained all the life out of her.
She ushers us in quickly and leads us to the kitchen, motioning to the old monk’s bench. Lucy sits, and Peggy sits beside her, but anxiety keeps me on my feet. Poe trots in on our heels, calling out plaintive meows while he winds figure eights through my legs. I scoop him up, scratching behind his ears the way he likes.
‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ Peggy says, all in a rush. ‘Wladek took the call, so this is second hand, but…’ Her voice trails off, and it’s obvious from the hitch of her shoulders that she’s trying not to cry. Lucy reaches out and rests her hand on Peggy’s forearm, and my chest tightens even further.
‘It’s your mum,’ Peggy manages, meeting my eyes with an apologetic smile that fades as soon as it appears. ‘She was taken to hospital earlier today. Angela tried to call you and Lizzie, but when neither of you answered, she called us. Wladek didn’t have any real details but she’s…’ She pauses, rubbing the pads of her thumb and forefinger together the way she doeswhen she’s trying to collect her thoughts. ‘Wladek said she was unresponsive.’
Unresponsive.
Fuck.
I hear Lucy’s intake of breath, but I don’t see it. I don’t even realise that I’ve buried my face in the cat until he squawks, wriggling out of my grasp and leaping onto the worktop next to me. When I look up, both women are looking at me, their eyes rimmed red with worry.
I try to steady my breathing. ‘Which hospital?’
‘The LGI.’ Peggy thumbs a tear from her cheek. ‘We can drive you, once Wlad gets home. You shouldn’t drive when you’ve had news like this.’ She looks up at me with solemn eyes. ‘He was trying to get off work early but now he isn’t answering his phone.’
I manage a small smile. Despite taking her driving test seven times, Peggy has yet to pass.