As the group gingerly stood to dust themselves off and stretch, Arjun remained on the floor, one hand on his hip, a pained expression on his face.
Luke immediately stopped laughing and bent down next to him. ‘All OK, Arjun?’ he asked, concern filling his voice.
‘Just a spot of bother with my hip,’ Arjun said, wincing as he spoke.
He was holding his hip, his knuckles strained white as he clenched, his face draining of colour.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Margaret said, wringing her hands.
‘Box does say 8 to 80. Isn’t Arjun 79?’ Howard joked. ‘Twister need to update their packaging.’
‘Do shut up, Howard.’
‘Arjun, can you get up?’
‘Has anyone got any ice?’
‘Should we phone an ambulance?’
‘Are we going to get to play now?’
‘Howard.’
‘I’ll get some peas.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear.’
It seemed Arjun wasn’t going anywhere and the decision was made to phone an ambulance, Grandad running a hand through his hair.
‘Lottie, why don’t you drive your grandad and I’ll go with Arjun in the ambulance?’ Luke said, taking control as we were all just uselessly wafting about.
‘Right, good idea, OK. Grandad, do you need to fetch anything?’
‘What can we bring for you, Arjun?’ Luke asked.
Arjun was gritting his teeth and I felt a real flash of worry, racing back to the kitchen to fetch frozen peas.
‘Here,’ I said, handing them to Luke. ‘It might help.’
‘Thanks.’ He met my eye and smiled. I felt a little calmer as I crouched down next to him on the mat.
‘Did we win?’ Arjun gasped between breaths.
I laughed at that and rested my hand on his shoulder. ‘Not long now, Arjun, we’ll get you to the hospital. They have amazing pain medication.’
‘And nurses,’ Howard said from the mantelpiece where he was leaning towards Paula, plucking something off her shoulder. ‘Fluff,’ he said, as she giggled and slapped his chest.
Well, at least Twister was bringing some people together, I thought.
The paramedics appeared and they stretchered Arjun out of the house, promising him some relief once in the ambulance. Grandad appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a leather holdall and handing it to Luke. ‘I popped in a spare set of pyjamas, a toothbrush, a book on the Boer War, things like that.’
‘Great,’ Luke said, taking it from him. ‘The Boer War, eh?’
Grandad shrugged. ‘I panicked.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ Luke said softly, pulling Grandad into a quick hug. I felt my heart ache at the sight, gratified to see my Grandad’s shoulders ease up, the lines on his face a little less deep as he clung to Luke.
‘We’ll follow you,’ I called to the paramedics as Luke turned to kiss me on the lips. ‘Come on, Grandad.’
Grandad grabbed his coat and hat and followed me outside. Geoffrey called from the living room, ‘We’ll get things sorted in here.’ Margaret already wearing the apron and moving through to the kitchen with a tray of glasses to wash up. I felt a swell of pleasure that Grandad had such good friends, a momentary flicker of guilt wondering if I could call myself one: I must phone Amy and check all was OK with her after her hen.
‘You let us know how he is,’ Geoffrey called.
I nodded my head and focused on getting Grandad in the car and to the hospital, reminding myself not to be so selfobsessed just when Grandad needed me.
The blue lights reflected on the surface of my car, ghostly flashes lighting up the street, curtains pulled back in nearby houses, the silhouettes of people in their living rooms looking out on the dramatic scene. It all looked horribly real, and I thought then of Grandad summoning an ambulance many months before for Grandma. It must be bringing back all those memories. I opened the passenger door for him and made sure he was settled inside, crouching down quickly to hold his hand. ‘It will be all right.’ He nodded slowly.
We sat in silence in my car waiting for the ambulance to leave. Arjun had been rolled into the back of it, already connected to what looked like a drip. I felt a lump form in my throat as I saw Luke next to him in the small space, speaking reassuring words as the ambulance doors shut on them.
I started the engine. ‘Let’s go.’ I could hear the false cheer in my voice. This wasn’t how tonight was meant to turn out. I glanced across at Grandad’s pale face beside me. This wasn’t how it was meant to turn out at all.
Darling Cora,
I loathe hospitals. The sounds of them; the incessant buzz of noise that doesn’t rest even at night: beeps, wheels turning, low voices, coughing. The unsettling feeling that the next drama is only seconds away at any given moment. Then there’s the cloying smell: cabbage, tea, sweat and urine, overlaid by a pervasive bleach that makes the orderlies’ hands red. The looks from strangers, everyone wondering who is in for what reason, visitor or patient, the strained glances as they wait to be seen, wait for news they don’t want to hear, the feeling they would rather be anywhere else than in the hospital.
Arjun seemed impossibly small in the grey metal bed, propped up on flat white cushions, a blanket tucked up under his chin.
We had waited a while for his hip to be X-rayed and I’d offered to stay the night. You can pay for a room in the hospital. It’s normally used for first-time fathers, I think, but it was late and one was spare and I think they felt sorry for me. That can happen a lot now. I gave them my most pathetic, widowed look: it has to be good for something.
Despite the place I was glad to be there with Arjun the next morning. There was muttering: they wanted the radiologist to see him, and the radiologist then requested a consultation with the oncologist. We shared a look then, we both know what that department meant. I felt bile rise up in my throat and swallowed it down. The oncologist was a young woman with large brown eyes and a soft voice.
The moment she looked at the X-ray her mouth moved into a thin line and I recognised the expression from all the appointments we had attended together. It wasn’t going to be good news.
‘There does seem to be a shadow.’ She indicated an area on the X ray that to my eye looked like a grey cloud in the shape of a tulip. She kept talking. Arjun was doing his pretend nod, the one he did when you used to talk him through the plot of Poldark. His eyes had misted over as she spoke, using big words and promising further tests.
I felt a stone lodge in my stomach and throat, a dead weight as I watched her leave. Arjun met my eye and gave me a weak smile, shoulders lifting in a small shrug.
‘I had wondered, recently—’
Cutting him off I stood. ‘It’s good they’ve caught it now,’ I blurted, already feeling awkward and wrong-footed. You would have known what to say, Cora, you would have made him feel comforted. Instead I found myself standing up, offering to get him a coffee he didn’t want and wouldn’t drink. I miss you so much at times like this. Why, Arjun? He’s so utterly full of life. Why does this dreadful illness go after the best of people?
I left the room and went into the corridor, walked across to the coffee machine and then walked straight past it and out of the electric double doors, as if I was just going to keep walking and not have to go back there and be brave for him. I stood on the concrete slabs just outside the hospital, a man younger than me in a gown clutching his drip for support as he inhaled a cigarette, two women not much older than Lottie sitting on the low brick wall in earnest conversation. All these stories, all these lives. I looked at the people passing in the street beyond holding carrier bags, talking on mobiles, the cars and buses inching past in the early morning traffic. I wanted everything to stop. Stop still so I could think.