gown and almost opened the door before I realised I was on autopilot. It was only a few minutes after six in the morning and I wasn’t expecting anyone.
When I called to ask who was there, Mum said: ‘It’s me.’ I wondered if we’d ever be able to have another proper conversation – but she sounded chirpier than when we last spoke. I opened the door and the sunshine left me groaning as it surged inside. I was a vampire, cowering from the light, though Mum didn’t seem to notice.
She was already dressed for the day with a bag over her shoulder. I had to double-check the time, because she started speaking as if this was something we’d planned. She said she’d had a call from the hospital and that Dad was now off the strongest painkillers. I think her exact words were: ‘He’s woken up properly now.’
What that really meant was that he was restless and probably annoying the staff. He’s never been the sort of man for lie-ins, or going to bed early. He would say he worked hard and played hard – which was, admittedly, an embarrassing thing for a man of his age to be claiming. In his case, there was a truth to it. He hated things out of his control – and I suppose sleep was one of those things. He’d stay up ’til midnight or later and then still be up at six to go to work. It was almost a point of pride for him. Whenever there was some report about people needing eight hours’ sleep, he’d scoff and say that he’d been living off a maximum of five for decades.
I think he saw sleep as weakness… like a lot of things, I guess.
Anyway, as I stood in the doorway in the dressing gown, Mum asked if I’d go to the hospital with her. I said I would, and probably would have said ‘yes’ anyway, but I definitely felt I owed her one after skipping dinner the night before. Those meals were the highlight of the trip for her.
She said she’d wait by the taxi rank at the front of the hotel and then I headed inside to get changed.
Julius: Mum’s not the sort of person who would want bad feeling to linger. Because Emma skipped dinner the night before, Mum would have wanted to involve her the next day. That’s probably why Mum took Emma to the hospital that morning.
Emma: I don’t think we talked in the taxi. If we did, then I don’t remember what about. Mum used to talk about Amy and Chloe when there was a break in conversations. She wasn’t great with a phone – but the one thing she knew how to do was access her photos. She had thousands on there of the twins that went back years. If we did anything, then it was likely go through those pictures.
The next thing I remember properly is being at the hospital. The morning was stifling and even the short walk from the taxi to the sliding doors left me feeling sticky. The air conditioning was like a loving hug after a long day at work – and I know Mum felt it, too. She caught my eye as we walked through reception and there was a beautiful moment where we were thinking the same thing.
By this point, Mum had spent so much time at the hospital that the staff simply waved her through. I followed her along the corridors until we got close to that door where I’d seen Dad the previous time.
We didn’t reach the door.
Dad was bombing along the corridor in a wheelchair, almost giddy with excitement. It was like one of those men you sometimes see in supermarkets, who are hitching rides on the back of trolleys.
It wasn’t a particularly high-tech wheelchair and looked heavy and cumbersome. Dad didn’t seem to mind as he pushed the wheels as hard as he could and then spun round a corner.
When he saw Mum and me, the grin slipped from his face, like it might do with a child who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Perhaps he was still on a certain type of painkiller – but it had been a long time since I’d seen him enjoying something with such abandon. It might have even been one of the last times we were on the island, when he used to bomb the pool. I suppose I’d forgotten that there was still that side to him.