Page 19 of The Lie
She remembered the last time Michael had been in hospital during their marriage, and that was only A&E, nearly fifteen years ago now. He had stood on a rusty nail in the Sussex garden and the wound became infected, his whole foot swelling to twice its normal size so he couldn’t walk. He’d behaved like a bear with at least two sore heads until the swelling went down. He would not be an easy patient.
Now she got out of bed and went through to the kitchen, switched on the familiar kettle, got out one of her favourite mugs with a blue and white flower pattern and made herself a cup of tea. She half expected her husband to pop his head round the door on his way to work, but the flat was eerily silent.
What should I do?Obviously she would go back to the hospital this morning. Leo had finally spoken to Rex and he was on his way home from Australia. He wouldn’t get in till tomorrow afternoon and she was dying to see her younger son, even in such grim circumstances.
She worried, though, that if she stuck around the medical staff would see her as Michael’s closest relative. Yesterday, each time there was a development in his condition, it was to Romy that the nurses referred, not Leo or Anezka. And neither appeared to mind. It seemed churlish, though, when he was so ill, to quibble about who was his next of kin, so she didn’t make a fuss. But she was being drawn inexorably into decisions about his care because technically she was still married to him.
She reached for her mobile. Leo had said he would stay over at a friend’s place nearby in Battersea, his own beingin Tottenham, near the old Spurs ground, and a long trek. Her son’s phone went to voicemail and Romy didn’t leave a message.He’s probably still asleep, she thought.
She rang Finch. She had texted him the previous day to tell him to go home, not to wait for her. She had no idea when she would be able to get away.
‘Hey.’ He picked up immediately. ‘How is he?’
‘They aren’t saying much. Or doing much, it seems. Just waiting. It’s twenty-four hours now and he hasn’t improved, but then he hasn’t deteriorated either. They seem to think that’s something.’
‘And how are you, Romy?’
His voice was so tender that she found her eyes filling with tears. She swallowed hard. ‘Don’t be nice to me, Finch. I can’t handle it.’
He laughed softly. ‘Do my best.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘The girlfriend, Anezka, pitched up yesterday. She’s stunning … not that that’s got anything to do with anything. But it’s a ticklish situation, because apparently she dumped Michael just before he had his stroke. So there’s me and her and Leo round the bed … Honestly, I don’t know how to play it.’
‘It must be very upsetting, seeing Michael like that.’
Romy felt her mouth wobble and no longer tried to hold back the tears. ‘It is. It’s horrible, really horrible. I know our marriage is over and all that, but I loved him once, Finch. I loved him for a long time. And he’s just lying there … I’m not even sure he’ll make it and Leo’s in bits … What shall I do?’ The question came out almost as a wail.
‘I suppose the only thing you can do is wait, see how it goes.’
It was so good to talk to Finch. He didn’t give her false hope. She didn’t have to be strong, like she did with her son. ‘You don’t think I should walk away? Let Anezka take over?’
Finch didn’t reply at once. ‘You could. But would you feel comfortable leaving your son … leaving Michael, when you don’t know if he’ll come through?’
She sighed. ‘No … No, you’re right. I can’t leave Leo. And Rex is coming in later today. I haven’t seen him since Christmas.’
Finch did not reply immediately. She wanted to tell him that she was missing him already, but she couldn’t quite say the words out loud.
When Romy arrived at the hospital, neither Leo nor Anezka was there. Michael looked no better. She thought he was asleep, but when she touched his hand, he opened his eyes. At first he seemed not to recognize her, his eyes still glazed and blank from the trauma.
‘Romy …?’ The word was a long time coming, distorted, dragged up from the damaged recesses of his brain.
‘How are you?’ she asked. Jasmine, Michael’s nurse, had said he was still disoriented and not aware of what had happened.
‘Am I …’ his face clouded with confusion, ‘… am I …’
She wasn’t sure what he was asking, but she told him anyway. ‘You’re in the Chelsea and Westminster, Michael. You’ve had a stroke.’
He frowned. ‘I …’ But the effort to think was obviously too much and he closed his eyes. ‘Just … want to sleep.’
Romy went outside to call Leo.
‘I’m on my way, Mum. I had to make some work calls.’ Leo sounded flustered, and Romy knew the asset management company that was training her son put him under a lot of pressure. She felt so sorry for him, just at this stage in his life, having to stop everything to deal with this.
‘I’m not hassling you. Take as long as you need. There’s no real change in Dad, anyway.’
‘I should be about half an hour. Is Anezka there?’
‘No. Just me. He’s sleeping most of the time. I’ll talk to his nurse and ring you back.’
