‘Sure, in that case your chariot awaits, m’lady,’ I say, giving a little mock bow.
She laughs and, grabbing her crutch, leans on it to stand up. I notice that she’s now wearing a blue boot in place of the grey.
‘New footwear?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, what do you think?’ she says. She forces herself to grin, but I can see tiredness in her eyes and try to remind myself that Sarah is a master of disguise. She didn’t let on last time she felt awful and I’m determined not to let her lull me into a false sense of security this time.
I hold out my arm.
‘I’m fine!’ she tells me, taking a couple of steps forward.
‘Take my arm,’ I tell her and she looks at me, incredulous, her mouth twitching with an almost-smile. ‘That’s an order.’
‘Hal! Honestly, I’m OK.’
‘I know you are. But take my arm anyway,’ I say softly.
Our eyes lock and something in her softens. She links her arm through mine. ‘The things men do these days to get a woman to pay them attention,’ she quips.
‘I know. We’re a desperate bunch,’ I say.
And we make our way along the corridor, to the lift. Wait in line at the hospital pharmacy for her medication, then slowly hobble to the van. I’m conscious of her breathing, noticing when it accelerates, trying to choose a pace that’s comfortable for her. I know, left to her own devices, she’ll push herself again; but it’s OK I’m learning to read her now, anticipate her needs.
‘Thank you,’ she says, when we reach Betty and I unlock the door.
‘No worries.’
‘I mean it though, Hal. Honestly. Thank you.’ She’s looking at me and for a moment I think she’s going to say something else. But then her face changes. ‘Mind you,’ she says, nodding at a little girl clutching a balloon and a pink teddy, just like the one I left in the hospital café. ‘You could at least have brought me a present.’
23
SARAH
Betty is gleaming.
Hal helps me into the front and the smell of cleaning fluid is almost overwhelming. He’s padded the seat out with pillows, and there’s a blanket for me if I need it. With the temperature hitting thirty-five degrees today, I can’t see that happening. But it’s nice of him all the same.
‘I’m really sorry about your trip,’ I say again.
‘It’s fine; honestly. France isn’t going anywhere.’ He smiles and he seems to mean it; there’s no hostility or disappointment behind his eyes. ‘I’m just sorry I was so stuck in my ways.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask as he shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side.
He gets in, sighs. ‘You wanted to drive straight there and I should have listened,’ he says. ‘I just had this whole thing planned out; I should have thought.’
‘Thought what?’
‘That it wasn’t fair on you to expect you to spend days and days on the road in your state.’
I can’t help but laugh. ‘Hal, I’m not an invalid. Well, not really. I was selfish expecting you to change your plans for me. I’m still grateful that you let me tag along.’
He looks at me as if to check I’m serious. ‘Well, thanks,’ he says. ‘I still feel guilty though.’
‘Welcome to my world; I feel guilty most of the time.’
Another glance in my direction. ‘What? Why?’
I shrug, although his eyes are back on the road so he can’t read my body language. ‘I think it might be a mum thing,’ I tell him. ‘Whatever I do, I feel I ought to be doing something else. And yes, I know that Louis is all grown up – if this trip hasn’t taught me that, I don’t know what has – but it’s a hard habit to break.’