Page 51 of When You're Gone

Ben straightens up, and a little colour rushes back into his cheeks. I think he’s relieved to have a job to do. Ben, Nate and I all know my father is perfectly capable of navigating his way around the hospital alone. We also know that it doesn’t matter right now.

‘Here you go, Hols,’ Ben says, sliding Nana’s manuscript out of his manbag, that I so often tease him about, and placing it across my knees.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble, flattening my fingers over the top page as if I’m waiting for nail polish to dry.

I sway from side to side in time to the beat of Nate and Ben’s shoes tapping on the highly polished floor tiles as they walk to the end of the long corridor and disappear around the corner. My mother rocks with me as we sit in silence. There’s a clock overhead and the eerie stillness all around amplifies the ticking of the second hand. Every now and then my hand circles the front page of Nana’s manuscript, and I run my fingers over and back across my silky scarf. I think about asking my mother if she would like to read some, but I know her answer without having to ask. If she wanted to read it, she would have by now. I wonder why she doesn’t want to. I find comfort in Nana’s words. I think my mother would too, if she would just allow herself to read it.

‘How are you feeling?’ my mother asks, finally breaking the silence.

‘Me?’ I tap my finger against my chest.

‘No. Sorry, love, I’m talking to one of the many other people here.’ My mother laughs, sarcastically trying to make light of the atmosphere, but her voice is half an octave lower than usual, and she’s not fooling me.

‘I’m okay,’ I lie. ‘You?’

Mam turns her knees towards me and crosses her legs. The rest of her body follows until she’s sitting sideways in her chair. She’s looking at me sternly; the way she used to when I was a teenager and she caught me doing something stupid that I really should have known better than to do.

‘What?’ I say, straightening.

‘I mean,how are you feeling, Holly? Are you still sick?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m much better now. It must have been something I ate.’

My mother raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?’

My nose wrinkles as I realise she knows about the baby, and I breathe in with reluctant acceptance. ‘Ben has a big mouth,’ I say, furious that my brother couldn’t even hold on to a secret for twenty-four hours.

‘Ben didn’t tell me.’ I can hear the disappointment in her voice that I’ve hidden this from her. ‘But I’m glad to hear you’ve told your brother.’

‘Did Nate tell you, then?’ I shake my head.

‘Actually…’ My mother smiles brightly, and I know what she’s going to say. ‘Nana told me. I had my suspicions for a while. I guess Nana had too. She could barely draw her breath this evening, but she managed to blurt outHolly’s pregnantas clear as day.’

‘Marcy told me Nana knew,’ I admit. ‘But I already had a feeling that she suspected something. It was the way Nana looked at me, you know? All smiley and giddy. Like the baby was our little secret.’

‘Yes. I do know.’ My mother nods. ‘It’s probably the same way she looked at me when I was pregnant with your brother and again with you. Your grandmother has a sixth sense for these things. She knew she was expecting me long before the doctor confirmed it. She just knew.’

I exhale, and my breath ruffles the pages on my knee, reminding me that they are there. Pleading with me to read more.

‘Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ my mother whispers.

The zip of my hoodie suddenly grows uncomfortably tight against my throat, and my fingers fumble as I loosen it. I wasn’t prepared for that question, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold it together if I try to answer. My mother’s heart is already breaking; the last thing she needs is for me to have a meltdown.

‘How far along are you?’ Mam asks.

‘Fifteen weeks. The baby has fingers and toes now,’ I explain. ‘And I think I can feel it kick sometimes. Well, more flutter, really. But I know it’s there, you know?’

‘Is that why you and Nate are in a funny place? Because of the baby?’

‘We’re not in a funny place,’ I say defensively.

‘Oh, Holly, come on now. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out something’s not right between the two of you at the moment. I thought you were crazy about him. You were certainly head over heels in love with him when you were twenty-two, and your father and I begged you not to move in with him, but you insisted you knew better. It’s been rather nice, I must say, to have you prove us wrong over the years. Nate is a good guy, Holly. Good guys are hard to find.’

‘Nate is a good guy, Mam,’ I admit.

‘What is it, then?’ My mother’s forehead wrinkles like a wrung-out dishcloth. ‘Is it the baby? Is Nate not ready to be a dad?’

‘No. God, no. Nate can’t wait to be a dad,’ I say. ‘It’s the baby. The baby is sick.’

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