I check my mobile in case he messaged me but there’s nothing. It’s really bizarre the way he phoned and then disappeared like that. It doesn’t add up at all.
I phone the hospital early and can’t get much sense as I’m not next of kin. Fortunately, after a few tries, I reach Matthew on his mobile.
‘Matthew – how’s Izzy, have you any news?’
‘Yes, I’m here now with her dad. She’s going to be okay,’ Matthew adds quickly, probably sensing my fear.
I breathe a huge sigh of relief and sit down shakily on the sofa. ‘Has she got to stay in long?’
‘A couple of days probably. She’s had pretty severe alcohol poisoning so they will need to keep an eye on her. At least she’s conscious and able to talk a little.’
‘Has she explained what happened? Where she’s been? I thought she was meant to be staying with her dad and stepmum?’
‘No, apparently she was at Tamara’s flat. Izzy didn’t want to go home because things are difficult there. Also, I think she hoped if she stayed in London, she could somehow meet up with Josh.’
‘God, don’t mention that loser,’ I mutter. ‘If I ever meet him again, I’ll be tempted to tell him what I think of him.’
‘You and me both, though from what I hear, he needs to find himself someone wealthy; there’s been rumours of gambling debts.’
‘Doesn’t make it right,’ I snap. ‘Izzy’s still young and vulnerable, with no proper family, and he let her down badly.’
‘I’m not going to disagree with you there,’ Matthew replies with feeling. ‘But I’ve been talking to her dad who’s actually a really nice guy, by the way, just doesn’t know how to cope with her or his new wife. The hospital has suggested some family counselling sessions which might help. Are you coming in to visit today?’
‘Yes of course, I need to get to work but I’ll call in after. Send Izzy my love and let me know if there is anything she needs.’
I struggle through the morning on autopilot, going through the motions but feeling nothing. Probably partly because I had a really disturbed night with restless anxious dreams about Izzy being on a boat in the middle of a rough sea and I couldn’t get to her. Doesn’t take a psychologist to work out the meaning of that one.
At lunchtime I dash out into Oxford Street to grab a get well card and a huge fluffy teddy for Izzy. As I’m legging it down the street, clutching my purchases, my phone rings. It’s Mel.
‘Hi, Soph, just wanted to check you haven’t forgotten the Regency Gaming Night?’
‘Oh no! I had. When is it?’
‘Tomorrow evening. Please say you’ll still come.’
‘I guess, it’s just Izzy’s in hospital and it’s all been a bit of a nightmare.’
Mel’s suitably shocked and I briefly outline the events of last evening. ‘At least she’s going to get help now. And what about Matthew? He sounds like he’s genuinely really keen on her.’
‘Yes, he was amazing last night, so calm. Hopefully Izzy might begin to see what a nice guy he is. Have you heard from Maria?’
‘Yes, she left a garbled message about Louisa having an accident last night, but no details.’
‘I know – I was there, she was with Izzy and Tamara. Apparently they’d been doing Jägerbombs and Louisa fell and gashed her head. Izzy was in a terrible state – it was a complete nightmare.’ I recount the sorry tale as briefly as possible.
‘Poor you. For once I’m almost glad I’ve just been here enjoying the pleasure of Rob’s company.’
‘How’s that going?’
‘Hmmm, I’ll fill you in with the details when I see you tomorrow night. You are coming, aren’t you?’
Mel rings off, having expertly extracted a promise from me to go to the Regency Gaming Night. I can’t believe I’m such a soft touch; I really don’t want to go, but can’t let Mel down.
After a struggle back into the office and an afternoon that seems to go on forever, I race for the tube at Oxford Circus as usual but get off at Paddington, wishing all the way up the usual rush-hour escalator scrum that I hadn’t bought quite such a huge teddy. A couple of times I think I might fall back down as those impatient individuals who have to run past, because it’s not going fast enough, nearly shove teddy and me back down again.
Just as I manage to reach the entrance at Paddington, my phone rings. It’s Mum.
‘Hello, Sophie, darling. Is that you?’
‘Yes, Mum. Of course it’s me.’ Who else would answer my phone?
‘I can’t hear you very well, there’s so much background noise. Are you at a party?’
‘No. Paddington Tube Station.’
‘Where?’ She shouts even though she’s the one struggling to hear. I can hear her perfectly.
‘At the tube station, they’re always noisy.’
‘Can’t you go somewhere quieter?’ she snaps.
‘Not really. I can phone you back later if you like, though it won’t be for a while as I’m calling in at the hospital.’
‘Why, you’re not ill are you?’ Mum always thinks the worst scenario.
‘No, I’m visiting a friend who’s ill. She became unwell on a night out yesterday evening and had to go to hospital.’
‘Oh dear, she hasn’t been doing drugs, has she?’ My mum’s been reading the paper again; The Daily Mail has a lot to answer for.
‘No, she hasn’t.’
‘You can’t be too careful.’ Mum sniffs. ‘You will watch yourself, won’t you? And you know they can spike your drinks – I’ll give you an article about it when you’re next round. I really don’t like you going out in London in the evening.’
Or anywhere else for that matter, I find myself silently adding.
‘Anyway,’ she continues glibly, ‘I was wondering if you can come down soon? We’re trying to plan a little family get together.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Of course I’ll come if I can.’
I manage to get off the phone before I drop either my bag, the teddy or my mobile.
There’s a foolish part of me that makes me look wistfully towards the signs to the Lindo Wing at St Mary’s. I don’t understand it, it’s not like I want to see Darcy or anything. My life just doesn’t go down that kind of path. Instead I follow the little red steps to Izzy’s ward.
I’m relieved to find she’s propped up in bed, pale and wan, the drip still in her arm, but the fact she’s conscious is a great relief, she had looked so deathly still last night. Matthew’s standing by the bed, holding open an old book. He appears to be reading poetry.
‘I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
‘And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’
I stand listening, mesmerised, but Matthew notices my presence and stops, looking embarrassed. I could kick myself; I feel as though I have interrupted a special moment.
‘Erm, hi – I just popped by to see how you’re doing, Izzy, but I can come back in a while.’ I turn awkwardly as though to go out the door again.