started the day Mum crashed her car. It was a Saturday morning and the rain was coming down so hard it didn’t look real; it was special-effect, Hollywood rain. Outside the supermarket, but still undercover, I stood for a moment and surveyed the scene: the clouds were so low they looked like they were trying to land on the trees. The tarmac was slick with rain, and cars circled like sharks, wipers swishing as their drivers hunted for somewhere to park – it was nearly lunchtime and, inside, the supermarket had been teeming.
Already I was tired, feeling a little faint; hoping with all my heart that the faintness could mean something other than my having skipped breakfast. With my mind on the tiny life that I wanted so badly to believe was growing in my belly, I took a deep breath and, shopping bags banging my shins, dashed in the direction of my car, fat drops of rain plastering my hair to my head. By the time I reached the row where my car was parked I was soaked. A car crawled at my heels, eager for my space, and I jerked my head towards where my car was, willing the driver to be patient.
I opened the boot and threw the shopping bags in, slammed down the lid, and slid into the driver’s seat, trying to shrug off my wet coat as I went. I fastened my seatbelt, started the engine, shifted gear, then put the car into reverse. The phone rang and my body reacted viscerally: a quickened pulse, a catch of my breath. I’d waited all morning for a call from the doctor.
My eyes snapped to the dashboard display: not the doctor. John.
‘Really?’ I sighed. I almost didn’t pick up, scared I’d miss the doctor’s call if I did. But John must be calling for a reason; my twin never phoned just for a chat. With a sigh, I tapped the Bluetooth to connect and started to reverse the car out of the space.
‘Lex? Is that you?’ John’s voice filled the car. ‘I’ve been trying you for ages.’
‘I’m out,’ I said. ‘What’s up? Is Mum okay?’
‘Well, that’s why I’m calling.’
Out of the parking space, I eased the car through the congested car park and onto the road.
‘What? What’s happened? Is she okay?’
‘She’s had a car accident.’
‘Oh my God! Is she all right?’
‘I’ve just spent half the night and most of this morning at the hospital. But she’s all right. Ish.’
‘What do you mean “ish”? She’s either okay or she’s not okay!’ My voice rose.
‘She’s fine. No broken bones. It happened late last night. I tried to call you but your phone was off. What were you thinking letting her drive back from Truro so late? You should have asked her to stay – or at least dropped her off yourself!’
Mum and I had gone to an exhibition of old photos of India the night before. I hadn’t seen the attraction myself, but Mum had lived there for a bit when she was younger and still got a bit misty-eyed about it. She’d asked me to go with her, given it was within walking distance of my house. John had refused point-blank to drive her up from St Ives; I’d half-heartedly offered to come down and pick her up but she’d insisted on driving herself and, distracted by the thought I might finally be pregnant, I’d given in – way too easily, I realised now.
‘I did ask her to stay! When I realised how late it was, I asked her to stay! She refused. You know what she’s like.’
John tutted. ‘At the very least, you could have kept your phone on.’
I started to argue then remembered that the battery had gone flat and I’d fallen into bed exhausted when I’d got back, forgetting to put it on to charge. Mark and I didn’t have a landline.
‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘Flat battery.’
‘Well, that’s very convenient,’ said John. ‘So it was me they called in the middle of the night. They took her to hospital. Kept her in overnight.’
‘You said she was okay! Why did she have to stay in?’
‘She hit her head; strained her neck; got a few bruises. They just wanted to observe her.’
‘Did you stay with her?’
‘No. She didn’t want me to. Anyway, they discharged her this morning on condition that someone stays with her tonight. She’s been in shock and may have whiplash. They don’t want her to be alone.’
‘Okay.’ I waited for John to tell me he was going to stay with Mum. It made sense given how much closer he lived.
‘So, that’s why I’m ringing,’ he said. ‘Can you come?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you, Lexi. I can’t stay with her any more. I’ve done my bit. The twins are at a swimming gala this afternoon and Anastasia will kill me if I’m not there.’ John pronounced his wife’s name with a long ‘a’ and a soft ‘s’, emphasis on the middle syllable: Anna-star-seeya. Never ‘Anna-stay-zia’. It still blew my mind that my rather unemotional and unspontaneous brother had come back from a holiday to Estonia not just with a beautiful wife and two ready-made children, but with his new mother-in-law, too.
‘But …’ I thought about the call I was waiting for from the doctor. I had a mountain of marking to do and all I really wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and nurture the life I was convinced was growing inside me, not drive down to St Ives in the pouring rain and play nursemaid to Mum.
‘Please can you do it, John?’ A sob caught in my throat. ‘Please?’
John sighed. ‘I’m asking you nicely, Lexi. But it really is your turn.’ There was a silence. ‘Look. Isn’t this why you moved to Cornwall? So you could help out a bit, too?’ The implication was there: until Mark and I had moved to Truro six months ago, John had borne the brunt of looking after Mum while I ‘ignored my responsibilities’ – John’s words – up in London.
Knowing he had the moral high ground, John continued almost seamlessly. ‘How quickly can you be there? I dropped her off just now, so the sooner, the better, really.’
‘You left her alone? Fantastic.’ I slammed the brakes on as a car pulled out in front of me.
‘I had to go, Lexi,’ John said, his voice slow and deliberate. ‘I have a family, remember? I’ve already spent half the night with her at the hospital. And then I scrapped our plans for the morning. I sorted out the insurance. I organised her car to be picked up, I took her home from the hospital and now I’ve made her comfortable. She’s not very chatty – she’s on the sofa, looking a bit dazed. I left her with a crossword. She’ll be fine until you get there.’
Silence hung heavy on the line. A silence in which I realised that I had no choice. I indicated and turned into my road, the car’s tyres swishing through puddles.
‘Are you driving?’ John asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh. You can call me back when you get in, if you want.’
‘No it’s okay. Hands-free.’ I paused. ‘Okay, I’ll come down.’
‘Thanks.’
