and there are lights being flashed into my eyes. I am vaguely aware of a second stretcher bumping its way down my staircase and then we’re all clipped into the back. I can hear Charlotte crying and she’s got her phone and is trying to call my mum.
‘No!’ I shout it to her and she’s sobbing. ‘Not Mum.’
She asks if she can ring Jess and no way, I slur at her. ‘No way.’
The laxatives continue working.
She looks at me and my daughter hates me and no wonder.
I’ve officially turned into my mum.
Please God, I beg as the back of the ambulance opens and I’m wheeled into A&E.
Please God, I sob as the lights of the department hit me. Please God, this is rock-bottom.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
‘Gloria’s coming.’
‘What?’ I sort of lurch to sit up and the trolley moves. ‘I’m going home.’
‘You're going nowhere.’
The nurse is really stern.
I thought they were supposed to be nice, she used to be nice.
I remember her.
I try to focus on her name badge for when I write my letter of complaint, in fact I’ll do it now. I demand my bag and I pull out my journal and I start writing but all she does is smile. ‘You’re going down, Rose,’ I say. ‘Who the hell called Gloria? She's got nothing to do with me.’
I don't want her to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
Except, a gradually sobering voice in my head is starting to tell me, my daughter has.
They’ve cleaned me up as best as they can. I can’t stand what Charlotte must have seen and I cannot, I cannot face Gloria.
‘Charlotte called her sister in Australia and she called her mother.’
Half sister!
I've got to talk to Charlotte about the phone calls.
‘I don’t want Gloria,’ I shout. ‘She’s not going with Gloria.’
‘Shall I ring the duty social worker then?’ Rose asks and I shrink back on the pillow. ‘Shall I see if they can arrange a temporary placement for her?’
‘I want to go home. I want to discharge myself.’
‘Fine, but Charlotte won’t be going home tonight with you.’
They keep banging on about my alcohol intake – they don’t get it wasn’t the Baileys I wanted, it was the cream.
‘I don’t drink much,’ I try to explain but they’re not listening. ‘I just wanted the cream,’ I say but my words are slurring.
A doctor examines me and puts in a drip and I hear the word unkempt and I remember that that will sting later. When I look back on this - that word will kill but right now I’m angry.
How dare he?
How dare he judge me for not cutting my toenails, for having roots, how dare he call me unkempt?
I work.
I live in the village.
I’ve got a carriage driveway.
I don't even get my own cubicle for long. I’m moved to the corridor where the nurses can keep an eye on me, without me taking up too much room. I see Gloria arrive, holding Daisy. No wonder he left, I try to tell myself, except it doesn’t console me, because it doesn’t apply, she looks great and as for me…
I look at Gloria and I remember the last time our eyes met.
When she saw me after Noel.
‘Happy now?’ I demand as she walks over.
‘Lucy.’ She's all calm and practical and she talks to me like I’m a patient and I remember that she’s a nurse. ‘I'm going to take Charlotte home with me, she'll be fine. You can come and get her in the morning.’ I want her to shout at me, I want her to call me a bitch or a slut, to tell me I am nothing. I hate her dignity, I hate how she just puts up and shuts up.
And then, when it couldn’t get worse, when it surely could not get any worse – I hear a man’s voice.
‘Gloria, what are you doing here? Is everything all right - is there something wrong with Daisy?’ It's a voice that I vaguely recognize, and I watch as a paramedic comes over and gives Gloria a light kiss on the cheek, and I can't stand it. I know who he is. He’s the one who was there when he died, he’s the paramedic who asked what medication he was on, and I just can't stand it any more.
‘I bet you're both laughing, I bet you sit every night laughing…’ I'm deranged, maybe I'm officially mad, because I'm being moved back to a cubicle now and they’re talking