‘Hello, James,’ says Nanna Beth. She smooths down the white cotton sheet over her lap and looks at me for a moment. It’s a look that says well, you kept this one quiet.
‘I thought I’d better come and see if there was anything I could do,’ says James. He’s still in a suit, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie off. He looks pretty good, actually. I notice the granddaughter of the woman opposite eyeing him up and I feel a little surge of pride that I have a handsome boyfriend in a suit and a whole life in London and all that stuff. I catch his eye and he gives me a quick smile, before turning to Nanna Beth.
‘So how are you feeling? I’m sorry we’re meeting in these circumstances.’
‘Not too bad,’ she says. She definitely looks brighter. Mum’s looking perky, as well. I – on the other hand – haven’t had a second to brush my hair, am wearing no make-up, and the same top I’ve had on for the last three days because I forgot to pack anything besides pyjamas, knickers, and a toothbrush.
Half an hour later, when James has left the ward to go and get some bits and pieces from the shop (on a mission that was clearly made up by Mum, just so she could pass verdict), I sit on the side of Nanna’s bed biting my thumbnail and listening to the two of them talking.
‘He’s very nice,’ Mum says, looking as pleased with herself as if she’d selected James herself. She takes a little compact mirror out of her bag and applies some more fuchsia lipstick, then fluffs up her hair.
‘Charming,’ agrees Nanna. ‘And so kind and helpful. Nice of him to go to the shop, wasn’t it, Jess, darling?’
I bite the inside of my cheek, not quite sure why their praise of James makes me feel uncomfortable. In the end, I wander out into the corridor to go to the loo, and to see if I can catch him when he returns. But someone’s using the bathroom, and I have to wait, standing reading NHS posters about hand washing and patient care policies, until I eventually get in.
When I look at myself in the mirror I realise I look even worse than I thought. I run water over my hands and comb them through my hair, turning my head upside down and shaking it to try and make it look less lank. The trouble with the new Dyson hand driers is you can’t exactly stick your head under one and wake your hair up. I settle for washing my face and drying it with a green hospital-issue paper towel, and rubbing my teeth – which feel grotty – with another one. When I come back out I can hear Mum laughing before I see her, so it’s no surprise to discover that James is in there, standing at the end of Nanna’s bed, holding a bottle of lemon barley water and some sandwiches from the hospital shop.
‘Oh, and I brought you these,’ James says. He hands Mum a box of chocolates, and Nanna a crossword book. How on earth has he worked out that she loves them in that short space of time? It must be a lucky guess. Mum is over-the-top delighted and Nanna claps her hands.
‘Thank goodness. I’m bored out of my mind already, stuck in here.’ She chuckles and he pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket.
‘He’s thought of everything, Jess.’ Nanna Beth beams at me. ‘You’ve chosen well there.’
He’s nice to my mother; he’s charming to my grandmother. Even the grumpy nurse in charge has found him an extra chair so nobody has to perch on the end of the bed. He’s a massive hit with both generations. He’s basically the perfect boyfriend. So why, I ask myself, as I surreptitiously turn my phone over to check for messages, am I looking to see if Alex has been in touch?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jess
5th October, Bournemouth
I’ve been thinking, Alex has typed, that you and me should go on another exploring trip when you get back.
We’re sitting on the sofa at Mum’s place the next morning. We’ve slept in the little spare room bed, crammed together like sardines in a tin, and I’m exhausted and dreaming of my own bed. James is sipping a mug of coffee and reading the local newspaper, his long legs concertinaed in the tiny space. He looks a bit like someone’s tried to