Page 17 of It's All Sun and Games

‘What happened?’ he asks.

‘A weight landed on her foot,’ I tell him – leaving out the part about Liz being the person who dropped it while trying to show off. ‘We’re taking her to hospital. Our friend has gone to get the car, so we’re just heading to the door.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,’ he insists. ‘Come here.’

The man slowly and gently scoops Priya up in his arms, carrying her like she’s a baby.

‘I’m so sorry for all the things I said,’ Priya sobs to him.

‘I think it’s just the pain, making her a bit funny,’ I explain to him – because obviously he doesn’t know all of the things Priya said about him showing off.

‘That’s okay,’ he says with a smile. ‘Let’s get her to the car.’

The only thing I care about now is getting Priya to the hospital and getting her sorted out.

And, to think, when we were on the way here I actually wondered if this might be enjoyable.

7

I hate hospitals – I know, most people hate hospitals, I’m not special. But, that said, if I were in Priya’s shoes right now, I am certain that I would be very happy to be here.

The poor girl came in screaming and crying and it must be bad, because she was taken somewhere almost right away. Well, we soon realised (around the time James started worrying about his white leather car seats) that Priya’s trainer was full of blood. She’s in the right place, which is good, but I feel so sorry for her. She was only there to help me and, if I hadn’t risen to Liz’s competitiveness, this probably wouldn’t have happened. I know it wasn’t me who dropped the weight, and I never would’ve let myself do something so dangerous in such an out-of-control way, but Liz was only pushing herself to try to get one over on me. If we hadn’t turned up, she would probably still be standing here, perving over James, not even breaking a sweat. The only thing she was ever intending to work out was how to get her claws into him, I would bet money on it.

The busy hospital waiting area is about as pleasant as you would imagine. This may just be the marketing exec in me talking, but there are so many things you can do – even small, simple things – to vastly improve user experience and here, well, it’s like they’ve done the opposite.

Simply, if you have a space where you are going to make people wait, do your best to make that space somewhere they don’t actually mind waiting. Sure, it works better with trains (where people are frustrated about delays and long journeys) than it does in hospital waiting rooms (where people are unwell or worried about loved ones) but at least try; don’t go out of your way to make it unpleasant, surely? From the retro avocado-green walls to the fluorescent lighting to the smell of bleach (which should be kind of reassuring but actually just makes you feel queasy), it’s almost as though someone made this space so awful that you might think twice about coming… which the cynical marketing exec in me also acknowledges is a great (but cruel) way to improve waiting times.

Sitting amidst the chaos are me, James and Liz (who is still here for some reason), and the atmosphere between us is making this even more unpleasant. We’re sitting in silence, none of us really knowing what to say, all of us (I optimistically suspect) feeling guilty over the part we’ve played in ending up here, even if some of us weren’t as complicit as others.

I jig my leg nervously, bouncing it up and down restlessly. I always do this when I’m worried, or stressed, or in pain – it’s as though I can’t not do it, although I’m not sure how much it actually helps anything.

James shifts uncomfortably beside me in his plastic chair, his usual confidence making way for something more serious. Even Liz is sitting sort of stiffly, her hands clenching each other in her lap, her sharp tongue eerily still for once.

The minutes drag on as we wait. I’ve called Priya’s husband, to let him know that she’s here, but it turns out he’s working in London today so it’s going to take him some time to get back. I’m not going anywhere, though, not until he arrives or they tell me that we can take Priya home. That’s why James is hanging around, to see if we need a lift, and Liz, well, perhaps she’s just biding her time until she can start flirting with James again. I’m amazed she’s managed to put it on pause for this long.

A nurse emerges from down one of the hospital corridors, her eyes scanning the room before they eventually land on us.

‘Robin?’ she asks. I raise my hand, so she knows it’s me. ‘Hello, Priya is asking if she can see you all.’

‘Is she okay?’ I ask quickly.

‘She’ll be fine, I’ll let her tell you herself,’ the nurse replies.

I sigh with relief. I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.

We follow the nurse through a maze of hallways until we reach Priya’s cubicle. The nurse pulls back the curtain, allowing us inside, before closing the curtain behind us.

Priya is lying in the bed and she doesn’t look as well as I had hoped, going off what the nurse said. It looks as though the blood that she has lost from her foot came straight from her face, because she looks drained, although at least her pain is no longer etched on her face.

‘You were right about the drugs,’ she tells me, her voice giving away a sense of how strong they must be. ‘Oh, boy.’

Despite her condition, she manages a weak smile and a waggle of her finger.

‘Oh, Priya, I’m so sorry,’ I tell her, taking her hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. ‘What have the doctors said?’

‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid,’ she says, in an oddly formal way – almost like how a doctor would say it – and I’m sure this is down to the drugs too.

My heart sinks.

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