Always and Only You

Chapter Forty

CHAPTER FORTY

Present Day

I look through the little glass window in my hospital room door. The corridor is busy, but empty of the person I’m waiting for. I sigh and take another circuit around the room. I’m no longer in a hospital gown, or even pyjamas. For the last few days, I’ve been wearing comfortable, casual clothes. It makes me feel more like a functional human being than an invalid.

‘No sign?’ my mother says from the armchair. She’s scribbling away in a notebook, jotting down everything she wants to ask the consultant when she arrives. I’ve been here almost four weeks now, and I’m hoping she’ll say I can go home today.

Mum has completely astonished me since I’ve been conscious enough to be aware of it. She spent almost every waking hour in my hospital room at first, only taking breaks to eat and occasionally go home to have a shower, change clothes and come back. Since they’ve instigated more of a visiting schedule, she’s been here every moment she can. She’s also been an amazing advocate for me with the medical staff when I haven’t been able to do it for myself. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

This is what I’ve always wanted. A parent whose sole focus is on me, but now that I’ve got it, I find I just can’t summon it within myself to be bothered.

That sounds terrible. But it’s how it is. I’m just being honest. With myself, if not with her. But it’s not only Mum. It’s everyone. Everything. I feel numb. As if all my emotions have left me and taken a holiday. But this too, the doctors tell me, is normal after a head injury. I won’t feel like an emotionless robot forever. I hope.

Simon is sitting on the edge of the bed, and I sit back down next to him and shake my head. ‘No sign yet.’

He puts his arm around me. ‘I’m sure she won’t be long,’ he says, then kisses me gently on the side of my head. He’s also being amazing. The perfect fiancé. I know if it wasn’t hospital policy not to have flowers in the rooms, mine would be overflowing. He’s been here almost as much as my mum.

‘Good news,’ he says. ‘The office has said I can have two more weeks’ compassionate leave, so I won’t have to use any annual leave for now – we can still save it for our honeymoon.’

‘That is good,’ I say, faking a smile. He’s been talking about rescheduling for later in the year. And as much as I love Simon, at the moment I just can’t bring myself to get excited about it. Part of me wishes I’d had the accident after we’d said our vows. It’s not getting married I’m feeling lacklustre about but planning another wedding. I just can’t face the thought of all that stress again.

An awful thought enters my head. I turn to Simon. ‘Have we got enough money to do another wedding? Didn’t we lose all our deposits?’

Simon rubs my arm again. ‘It’s okay, Erin,’ he says softly, patiently, and I sense we’ve had this conversation before. ‘Yes, we lost a few deposits, but a lot of the suppliers have been really understanding, even the venue. We can rebook when we’re ready. When you’re ready.’

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, closing my eyes. I feel something. It’s weak, barely detectable, but it’s there, a flickering of warmth and gratitude for this man. He’s being so patient with me.

I suspect I might seem like a different woman now from the one Simon proposed to. But I also sense the last few weeks have changed him too. He’s always been charming and fun to be around. He’s always treated me impeccably, but I often wondered if we could be closer. Sometimes, it felt as if we lived our lives together but in separate bubbles. Probably because we’re both very independent and neither of us finds it easy to show on the outside what we’re feeling on the inside. Simon didn’t always share a lot of stuff with me, but that was okay because I knew how much he loved me. Right from the start, he showed me what kind of man he was.

But now … He’s doing it all, saying it all. Even though it’s bouncing off me, I can appreciate it in a logical kind of way. And as my knocked-around brain heals, those warm, fuzzy feelings will return, won’t they?

There’s a knock at the door, and I instantly stand up. However, it’s not Doctor Sethi who walks through the door, but Gil.

I feel as if a lightning bolt shoots down through the ceiling and straight through my body. I grip on to the side of the mattress with both hands, feeling suddenly breathless. Where there was numbness, there is now life. Emotions. Colour. Memories.

And the very last one I have of him is being wrapped around him in warm tropical water, his mouth on mine, wishing I wasn’t a mile offshore and our hotel bedroom was a lot closer.

I blush so hard I have to look at my feet. My pulse thuds inside my skull.

When I look up again, Gil is smiling at Simon, but when he turns his attention to me, his expression clouds over. Not with irritation or frustration, as it has in the past, but an expression I saw countless times on his face when I was asleep and dreaming about him.

‘Listen,’ Mum says. ‘She’s only really supposed to have two visitors at a time, so why don’t I just pop out and—’

Gil looks slightly horrified. ‘Oh, no … I don’t want to impose.’

Mum packs her pen and notebook into her vast handbag and shakes her head. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s good for Erin to have different visitors. Besides, the food in here is horrendous, processed mush. I’ve been meaning to pop to the supermarket next door to pick up some fruit and healthy snacks. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get back.’

She comes over to me and hugs me like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me, presses a fierce kiss to my forehead, then disappears out the door. The three of us are left alone in the room. The atmosphere grows decidedly more awkward.

I expect Gil to ask how I’m doing. It’s been the first thing out of every other visitor’s mouth, but he unhooks the backpack slung over his shoulder and rests it on the armchair. ‘I’ve got you something.’

I watch in fascination as he unzips the bag and pulls out a bundle of wires and a rather ancient-looking bit of technology. He glances up at me, seeming as off-kilter as I feel, and holds the item up. I know the name for it, but I just can’t pluck it from my brain.

Simon laughs. ‘Oh, my God. Is that a … a Walkman?’

Gil ignores Simon and keeps his eyes on me as he places it on the cabinet next to my hospital bed. ‘I know you like books, but Simon said you were struggling to read.’

I nod. ‘I can only manage a page before the words all start swimming around.’ It’s been one of the most disappointing things about being in hospital. Reading would have been a great way to pass the time, but it tires my healing brain out too quickly.

‘I thought audiobooks might be a good alternative.’

Simon chuckles. ‘For someone who works with technology, you’re a bit behind the times. There are apps that do that now.’

Gil doesn’t rise to the bait. ‘But either Erin would have to download the app, work out how to use it, how to buy the books, or I would need her account details to do that for her. So I thought old-school might be the way to go. A button to start, a button to stop, a button to open the lid.’ He presses the corner of the machine to demonstrate. Then he reaches back into his backpack and pulls out a stack of CDs with brightly coloured covers. I recognize them as titles by my favourite authors.

I look up at him in shock. ‘Where on earth did you find these? I haven’t seen audiobooks on sale like this for ages!’

‘Local bookshop had one. The rest are the spoils from a charity shop crawl.’

I read out some of the titles. ‘And how did you …?’

He shrugs, answering me even though I haven’t finished my sentence. ‘Every time I go into a person’s house, I check out their bookshelves. Just remembered seeing these names there.’

I’m amazed. But then Gil always was one for details.

A shiver ripples through me as I have a sudden flashback from my dream – one that proved just how mind-blowing all that focus and attention to detail could be, put to the right uses.

I shake my head softly as if to dislodge the memory. Except that it’s not a memory, is it? It’s nothing. Just something my brain dreamed up while I was unconscious. I have to keep telling myself that, even if all the colour, the sights and sounds, the emotions of that time in dream St Lucia feel more real than the blurry reality I’m currently living in.

It’s almost impossible to look Gil in the eyes, so I mumble my thanks and let him show me where the different buttons are. He’s right, it’s so simple even I shouldn’t be able to stuff it up.

When I glance in his direction, he’s studying me, and I can tell he thinks I’m behaving oddly, possibly even being ungrateful, but I don’t know how to act any differently, and I can’t explain why I’m almost hyperventilating, can I? That would be mortifying.

Thankfully, I’m saved from any further embarrassment by a knock on the door and a couple of moments later, Dr Sethi walks into the room. She checks her clipboard and smiles at me. ‘Erin … It would be good to have a chat. A little bit of an update. I know you’ve been anxious to get home.’

Gil puts down the Walkman back on the bedside table and glances at the door. ‘I should go—’

Simon cuts him off. ‘No, mate. Stay … I mean, you’re the one who found her and called an ambulance. You’re as much a part of this as any of us are.’

I haven’t got time to pick apart how Simon has just skated across any thoughts of privacy for what might be a very personal discussion, because I turn to look sharply at Gil. ‘It was you who found me?’

He nods, then looks at his shoes. I want him to tell me exactly what he remembers about that night, but the doctor gives a cough. Gil zips up his rucksack. This might be my only chance to ask those questions, especially as he’s feeling charitable towards me at the moment.

‘No … you can stay.’ And after the doctor has finished, maybe I’ll get the answers from him I’m looking for.

Dr Sethi asks if she can take the armchair and I nod, then she motions for us to sit, so we end up lined up on the edge of the bed, me in the middle and Gil and Simon on either side of me.

For the second time in maybe ten minutes, I have proof I’m not completely emotionally numb. Anxiety becomes a low hum in my eardrums, a soft churning in my gut. Instinctively, I reach out and grab the hand beside mine on the edge of the mattress. It’s warm and familiar. I breathe out. Just this small piece of contact makes me feel safe.

Gil’s head snaps round, and he stares at me. I turn to meet his gaze, but out of the corner of my eye, I spot our fingers interlaced on the bed between us. He blinks, clearly perplexed but not horrified.

‘Sorry …’ I whisper, quietly enough for just Gil to hear me, and then I ease my hand from his, and reach for Simon with the other. It lands on his thigh and he covers it with his own.

‘So, Erin,’ Dr Sethi begins, ‘test results and blood work are continuing to look good, but I know going through each in detail will probably be draining for you so I’ll just give you the bullet points—’

‘Will I always be this way?’ I blurt out before she even gets going.

She doesn’t miss a beat, just answers me patiently. ‘Not necessarily. The brain has a marvellous ability to rebuild itself. You’ll see more improvements over the coming weeks. Most of the significant healing will take place within the first twelve months, but you may continue to see improvement for some years after that. It’s a waiting game to see which things will resolve themselves and I’m not going to lie to you, there may be a few lasting challenges. However, you were luckier than many people I see, Erin. Once the swelling in your brain went down, there wasn’t nearly as much damage as I expected, so while I know this is frustrating and sometimes confusing, take heart that the prognosis is looking pretty good for you, much better than for some of my other patients.’

I swallow. ‘Thank you.’

She places her clipboard on her knees and smiles at me. ‘You may or may not remember that we were considering sending you to the brain injury rehabilitation unit for a few weeks, but you’re doing so well we think you’ll be fine with outpatient rehab, so the good news is that, yes, you can go home soon.’

‘Today?’

She shakes her head. ‘In a day or two. We’re transferring your care to King’s College Hospital when you go home, so we need a bit more time to get everything lined up. The neurology department there will keep an eye on you, but you will also have sessions with the psychologist, a physiotherapist, and occupational health.’

Simon wraps his arms around me, pulling me towards him so he can kiss my hair and whisper in my ear. I’ve only seen Simon cry three times in my life and from the catch in his voice, I suspect I might be about to witness the fourth. ‘I’m so relieved, Erin. I can’t wait to have you back home. For while there, I thought I was going to lose you.’