hung up.
Emma worked on the geriatric ward now. Could he call and ask her to check on his dad if she was on duty?
No, that was the sort of thing you could ask a wife but not an ex.
Anyway, she’d only given birth two months ago. She would still be off on maternity leave. He hadn’t seen or talked to her since the day her son had been born. But not a day had gone by that he hadn’t wondered how she and the baby were doing. He wished he could pretend William didn’t exist but that wasn’t in his DNA. He thought about his son every single day, as soon as he woke in the morning and the last thing before he went to sleep at night.
An hour later Darcy stuffed a bottle of beer and a packet of chips in his pockets, left Kirsty in charge and headed to the hospital. He followed the green line down the corridor to Ward 5G North.
At the nurses’ station Emma and her friend Tracey had their heads bent over a computer. She turned away to cough then reached for a tissue to blow her nose. He stayed back a little, waiting for them to finish so he could ask where his dad was. They hadn’t noticed him.
Emma’s hair was clipped up, exposing the tiny mole on her neck he used to like to kiss. She laughed at something Tracey said, and Darcy smiled involuntarily. He used to think the whole world lit up when she smiled. He caught himself and his smile faded. On second thought, he didn’t want to talk to her, after all. He slipped unnoticed around the corner and went off to find his father.
Roy was in a room with three other elderly men. Darcy’s mother sat in a chair at Roy’s bedside. They were watching a game show on TV. Darcy paused in the doorway, taking in the reality of his big bluff father looking far too frail plugged into an IV drip.
“Mum, Dad.” Darcy kissed his mother on the cheek before taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. He squeezed his dad’s hand then deposited the beer and the chips on the swing-arm table that held the remains of a half-eaten dinner.
“Thanks, son.” Roy yelled at the TV, “Lake Louise.” Satisfied he’d gotten the answer right, he turned to Darcy. “No need for you to come down here. I’ll be home in a couple of days.”
“He was mad at me for calling you. He didn’t want you to see him in the hospital,” Marge said in a stage whisper.
“I’m not deaf, woman.”
Darcy twisted the cap off the beer and handed it to his father. “Here, get your gob around that. Of course I’m going to see you the night before a big operation.”
Marge frowned. “Darcy, I don’t think beer—”
“I have until ten o’clock to eat and drink before I have to fast for the anesthetic.” Roy took a sip of beer. “As for the operation, it’s simple. Replace the ball and socket joint. A mechanic could do it.”
“Maybe you’d like your mate Ralph to perform the surgery,” Darcy suggested dryly. “He probably still has all his tools.” He opened the packet of chips and set it where his dad could reach them.
“What’s this, a party in Room 17?” Emma wheeled a trolley into the room. “Time for your meds, Roy. Sorry, but they don’t go so well with alcohol.” Tsking good-naturedly, she plucked the bottle out of his hand. Her gaze cut to Darcy. “You should know better.”
Behind the disapproval there was a hint of a smile but also a wariness when she looked at him. Up close he could see how worn-out she looked. Her voice was hoarse as if she’d been coughing a lot. Again, she reached for a tissue and had to excuse herself to blow.
“Have you got a cold?” he asked when she was done and rubbing her hands with sanitizer from a small container she’d pulled from her pocket. He was conscious that his mother was hanging on every word, every look that passed between them. His dad was still calling out answers to the game show. “You shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.”
“I’m okay.” She didn’t seem to know where to look so she checked the watch pinned to her chest. “Family hours are nearly over.”
“I’m going.” Darcy rose so his mother could have a few minutes alone with his dad. “See you tomorrow after your operation,