Page 8 of The Forever Gift

Jesus. I hate this. I hate that one lousy phone call from Heather can have this effect on my husband.

‘I know,’ I say, ‘I get it.’ I’m lying. I don’t understand. I have no idea what it’s like to parent a teenager. I try, of course, to support Gavin, but Kayla is Heather and Gavin’s daughter. They have a closeness with her that I can only observe.

‘What exactly did Heather say?’ I ask, consciously easing the pressure as I kneed Gavin’s tense muscles. ‘Is something serious going on?’

Gavin reaches up and catches my hands in his, squeezing a little too tightly. He’s pinching. I wince and I’m about to pull away.

‘The hospital in Cork sent Kayla’s result to the National Children’s Hospital here in Dublin,’ Gavin says, pausing to draw a deep breath, steading himself.

‘Why would they do that?’ I ask, confused.

‘The hospital say Kayla will need specialist care in Dublin,’ Gavin says. ‘This is serious, Charlie. I think Kayla is really, really sick. I’m scared.’

I stop massaging and my hands fall limp by my sides. ‘Oh God.’

THREE

HEATHER

I drive Kayla to school like any regular morning. Kayla turns up the radio when an Ed Sheeran song comes on and she sings along, out of tune. I catch her glance at me from the corner of my eye and I know she’s disappointed I’m not joining in. But I can’t remember the words right now. All I can think about is seeing Gavin and meeting the doctor.

‘You know, I’m actually kind of glad to go back to school after a weird week. I never want to see a hospital ever again,’ Kayla says, turning the radio back down when the song ends. She’s surprisingly chirpy for a kid who’s most definitely not a morning person. ‘It’s good to get back to normal, right, Mam?’

I can’t bring myself to reply. I search for words that don’t feel like a lie or a betrayal but I can’t find any. I drive on, numb, as the low hum of morning radio keeps us company.

Usually Kayla hops out while I’m caught in a stream of rush-hour traffic a couple of streets away from her school, but this morning, without overthinking it, I swerve out of heavy traffic and veer down the even more chock-a-block side road leading to the school. Kayla nearly has a heart attack when I drive in the school gates and pull up right outside the front door.

When I stop the car and reach for the door handle to get out, Kayla’s eyes widen and she laughs, ‘Oh my God, you’re not seriously going to walk me to the door are you?’

I make an I’m-worried-about-you face.

‘I’m fine. I’m fine, honest,’ Kayla assures me. ‘Please, Mam. I’ll never live it down if my mother walks me in as if I’m a five-year-old.’

‘Okay,’ I say, when I notice Aiden is waiting for Kayla by the main doors.

I wave and he smiles brightly and waves back.

‘Go on,’ I say. ‘Have a good day. And be careful. No more falling, yeah?’

‘Love you,’ Kayla says, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. ‘See you later.’

Kayla opens the door and a blast of cold air charges in shocking us both. I watch as Kayla walks into school with a limp so subtle that if you weren’t looking out for it you’d probably miss it.

Kayla knows I’ll be late home this evening. She’s hanging out at Aiden’s after school. There’s nothing unusual about that. But there is something unusual about the way she pauses at the door and looks over her shoulder at me. There’s a spark of insecurity in her eyes. As if she knows I’ve been keeping something from her. My heart hurts.

I wait until Kayla and Aiden are out of view before I drag my phone out of my bag and check my messages.

There are some work emails and a missed call from my boss. I skip straight to the text from Gavin.

See you soon.

Try to stay calm.

Gx

I take a deep breath, toss my phone onto the passenger seat and drive towards the train station. Normally I’d drive to Dublin. I like motorway driving, but not today. Today, I don’t trust myself to concentrate behind the wheel alone on such a long journey.

The train is packed to capacity and the windows are fogged before we pull out of the station. The elderly gentleman beside me makes conversation and I chat back, grateful for the distraction. As much as I don’t normally enjoy small talk, the silence when he gets off halfway is much, much worse.

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