Desperately Seeking - By Evelyn Cosgrave Page 0,99

one I listened to over and over until I could nearly make out all the words and could say definitively that tracks two, seven and ten were my favourites. The other I would give to Mike… if I ever saw him again.

Other nights I went for walks along the city streets. I have always felt empowered by the sight of wide pavements stretching ahead of me, slightly distorted in the amber glow of sodium lamps. The city feels safe in all its Georgian concreteness; only good and exciting things could happen here. And here I felt most at ease in my limbo world – a world that contained a man who loved me but would not have me. At times it was enough to know that he loved me – had loved me for years – and at others it was the greatest injustice in the universe that we could not be together. I replayed every moment of that afternoon: his unease, his discomfort, his admission, his rejection. I immersed myself again and again in his kiss. I walked everywhere, sometimes even far enough up O’Connell Avenue to pass the turn to his house. I dreaded meeting him, yet longed to. I had so much to say to him, yet it amounted to nothing.

Then, Marion called early one morning. Dad had been taken into hospital. He had woken up in the middle of the night with pains across his chest and Mum had rung for an ambulance.

By the time I got there Dad was in his room, pale and small in his carefully ironed pyjamas; his hair, normally so tidy, was ruffled and seemed greyer than usual. Mum looked little better. She had evidently rushed out of the house without following her usual grooming routine and the clothes she was wearing were clearly yesterday’s. All of a sudden my parents were frail – tragic, even.

Marion was trying to find a doctor who would tell her something about Dad’s condition. All she had been told so far was that he had had some tests and it would be a while before the results were known.

‘I don’t think it could have been a heart-attack,’ she said, ‘or they wouldn’t be so calm and Dad wouldn’t look so well.’

‘I don’t think he looks well,’ I said.

‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘if he’d had a heart-attack he’d look a lot worse. He looks bad to you because you’ve never seen him without a shave and a collar.’

‘Mum looks exhausted.’

‘She needs sleep. If I could talk to a doctor I’d persuade her to go home.’

‘Marion, is he going to be OK?’ I couldn’t conceive of anything happening to either of my parents, especially not Dad.

‘I’m not an expert, but I don’t think it’s too bad. He’s as strong as an ox.’ She went out again to try to nab a doctor and I sat down beside Mum. They had given Dad something to make him sleep and he’d gone off. I didn’t know what else to do so I took Mum’s hand and kissed it.

‘You’re a good girl,’ she said.

I wanted to contradict her but now wasn’t the time. ‘He’ll be fine, Mum,’ I said.

‘Oh, I hope so. I’d be lost without your father.’

I could feel tears welling, so I got up to open a window. The air was cool and clear. ‘Have you a comb in your bag, Mum? I’ll do your hair.’ It was best to stick to the things I’m good at.

‘I think so, dear. I might have a lipstick too. I didn’t even brush my teeth before I came out.’

‘Come here. I’ll do you up and then we might go home. Dad’s going to sleep for a while, so you might as well get some rest.’

‘I wouldn’t want him to wake up to strangers.’

I could see her point, so I combed her hair and went out to find a travel toothbrush.

I’ve never had much to do with hospitals. Apart from the odd visit to Casualty in the small hours of the morning, I’ve never been ‘in hospital’. The only visiting we’ve ever done has been for new babies and the odd minor procedure, like tonsils. Of course, Ruth was never out of hospital when she was a child, but that was years ago. I’ve never entertained the idea that either Mum or Dad might end up in one. They always seemed so strong.

For the rest of that first day nothing happened. Dad slept for ages and when he woke up Mum told