again and is moving off, when something else occurs to me.
“Wait!” I say, hurrying after her. “Am I the only person who knows he’s here? Do his next of kin…does anyone else know?”
He doesn’t have any family, I’ve suddenly remembered, and the thought makes my throat constrict. Here he is, beaten up in hospital, with no family, no one at all—
“I’m fairly sure one of the nurses made a call for him,” says the doctor, crinkling her brow in thought. “She spoke to his…girlfriend?”
The word stops me short. Girlfriend.
I mean, of course. His girlfriend. Whiny. He has her. She’ll be the one he wants to see.
“Great!” I say a little heartily. “Perfect. His girlfriend. That’s—yes. Well. So. My work is done. I’ll just—so. I’ll go home, then.”
“As I say, he’ll be on a ward tomorrow,” she says kindly. “Why not come back then?”
As she meets my gaze with her wise doctor’s eyes, I have a weird conviction that she gets it. She somehow understands that I have to know how Seb is, because I feel this strange, inextricable link to him. Which isn’t a relationship—God, of course not. We’re not even friends, really. It’s just…it’s a different kind of thing. A yearning. A tugging in my heart. A need to be with him and know that he’s OK. I mean, what would you call that?
I blink and meet the doctor’s patient gaze again. Does she understand it all?
Or am I projecting?
OK, I’m projecting. She’s just waiting for me to go away. God, Fixie, get a grip.
“Thanks,” I say for a final time. “Thanks so much.” And I head out of the hospital before I can catch a superbug.
He’s safe. That’s all I needed to know. And Whiny will visit him tomorrow. Or his friends will, or whatever. So, really, there’s no need for me to. That’s the end. Job done.
Fifteen
Except that at five the next morning I’m wide awake, knowing only one thing: I have to go and see him.
I don’t care if Briony’s by his side. I don’t care if a whole army of friends turn to stare and say, “Who are you?” I don’t even care if his colleagues whisper to each other, “It’s that awful girl who introduced Ryan to the company! Yes, her!”
By 6:00 A.M. I’ve conjured up about a million possible scenarios, each more embarrassing than the last, but I’m still resolved. I’m going. No one can stop me. I know I don’t have any actual relationship with Seb. I know I can’t even claim to be a friend. But the thing is, until I see him with my own eyes, all I can picture is crime tape and police officers and my own lurid visions of him lying on a stretcher, hovering between life and death.
I text Greg, telling him that a medical emergency has come up (true), then spend two hours agonizing over what to take. Flowers? Do guys like flowers? They might say they do, but do they actually?
No. I don’t think they do. I think guys actually like cans of beer and expensive remote controls and football games. But I can’t take any of those to a hospital bed.
Chocolates? Sweets?
But what if his mouth got bashed and he can’t eat?
My stomach gives a nasty twinge at the thought, and I shake my head to dispel my worst fears. I’ll see him soon enough. I’ll know the full picture.
Then the answer hits me: a plant! It’s uplifting and natural like flowers but not quite as frilly. And it’ll last longer. There’s bound to be a plant shop somewhere on the way.
I check the hospital website for visiting times, phone Greg to make sure he’s opened up, change my outfit three times, google plant shops, spray myself with scent, then stare at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing nothing fancy: just jeans and a nice top.
OK, my best jeans. And my nicest top. It’s chiffony and a bit dressy, with sheer sleeves. But it’s not too dressy, definitely not, it’s simply…nice. It’s a nice top.
Which is of course totally irrelevant. In sudden shame, I realize I’ve been looking at my reflection for three minutes and hastily turn away. As if what I look like matters. Come on. Time to go.
* * *
—
The nearest florist to the hospital is called Plants and Petals, and as I arrive I feel it should be hauled up for misrepresentation. There are no plants, only flowers. And those are mostly of the frilly pink variety.