take care of you financially. I’ve been trying to do that all along.”
“Yeah but …” From the way she sets her mouth, I can tell she’s about to tell me something that might make me defensive.
“Yeah but what?”
“You’re not going to be able to play rugby anymore. What will you do for work?”
My chest feels tight at that, even though it’s a reasonable question. The truth is, my rugby contract pays about seventy-thousand Euros a year, which is a nice amount of money but that’s not the bulk of my money. Most of my big money comes from endorsements and contracts. That rugby calendar was one of them, hawking a certain watch is another, I even have a lucrative deal for Porsche here in Ireland (hence the SUV). Even when I’m no longer on the team, it’s fairly reasonable to think I’ll still have my endorsements.
And even if they don’t want a spokesperson with MS, well I’m lucky I made a lot of investments when I was younger.
In the end, I will be fine, financially.
But the idea—no, the fact—of never playing for Leinster again is what kills me. Never running out onto the field, hearing my name and the cheers rally around me like a symphony. I will never have that again.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” Valerie says, putting her hand on my arm. “I—”
She’s cut off by the high-pitched squeal of an ambulance in the distance, getting closer and closer. Far down the road, near the B&B, flashing lights disappear behind a hedge.
Oh God, no.
We glance at each and both take off running down the road, throwing our mugs to the side.
Valerie can’t run very fast but it’s always been one of my greatest skills and at this moment, I am flawless. I have no disease, no ailment, no pain. I am propelled forward by the muscles in my legs that haven’t forgotten how to work and the adrenaline that’s coursing through my veins. I run faster than I ever have down any pitch.
I am back at the B&B in minutes, my lungs tested but holding out, my body shaking.
But it’s from the fear.
The fear of what’s happening.
The horror of what I do see.
An ambulance parked in front of the house, with Major, my nan and the nurse beside it, looking fraught. The medics are pushing a stretcher with my father on it into the back of the vehicle.
“What happened!?” I cry out, gasping for breath and wild-eyed. My heart is in my throat and I don’t think it’s ever coming down.
“He collapsed,” Margaret the nurse says to me, “just as I was about to take him for a stroll, he fell out of the wheelchair. His heart rate was too low.”
I look at my nan and she has a hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes, watching the ambulance doors close.
“Is he …?” I can’t bring myself to say it.
Please, God, no. Let him be okay. Let me have another chance.
“He’s alive for now,” Margaret says. “But it doesn’t look good. They’re taking him to Cork.”
“Then I’m going to Cork.” I look at Nan. “You’re going too.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t,” she says, her words choked.
“What do ye mean? He’s your son-in-law.”
A tear spills down her face. “You don’t understand, Padraig. I can’t handle it. I don’t want to see him in there like that. I can’t lose him like that. Not after I lost your mother.”
I hear the crunch of gravel and look to see Valerie limping up the driveway, out of breath, her face contorted once she realizes what’s going on.
I put my hands on my nan’s shoulders and make her face me, peering into her anguished eyes. I’ve never seen her like this before, it’s enough to break me. But I need to get through to her. “You listen to me, Nan. I know you’re scared and I’m scared too. But he’s not dead yet. If ye don’t go, ye won’t get to tell him all the things ye want to tell him, that ye need to tell him. Believe me, you’ll regret it. You don’t want to regret it. Please, come with me.” I squeeze her shoulders. “I need ye.”
Her chin trembles but she straightens her back as much as she can and nods. “Okay, Padraig,” she says quietly. “I’ll come with ye.”
“What happened?” Valerie cries out, breathless. “Is it Colin?”
“Run inside and grab the car keys,” I tell her. “We have to follow the ambulance to the