specialists at that hospital are nothing short of amazing. Honestly, they’re some of the best in the world. They know what they’re doing.” Maggie’s calm reassurance is exactly what I need. She’s the voice of reason. “So when are they hoping to operate?”
I shrug. “It’s hard to know. As soon as he’s well enough for the anaesthetic to not be a danger, I think. Days rather than weeks, from what they were saying.”
Repeating this information to Maggie keeps me centred. It’s almost as though when I’m relaying the cold, hard facts of the story it isn’t real, as though my baby brother isn’t lying on a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of his body and drips pumping him full of medication. I can pretend everything’s fine here, away from the stark, cold corridors of the hospital. I’m glad to be at the café and especially glad to be away from my parents, so I don’t have to watch them crumble for another minute. I’d never seen my dad cry before, but last night he must have cried every tear he’d stored up inside.
“It’s not going to affect my work though, I promise. The customers don’t need to know anything’s changed. I’ll still be here on time every day and I won’t be a misery. I won’t let you down.”
Maggie places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You wouldn’t be letting me down by putting your family first, Fern. If you need to be at the hospital, you go. This should be the last place on your mind with Luke so poorly. Pearl can always do a few shifts if we need an extra pair of hands, so cover’s not an issue. I think she’s lonely, being on her own. She’d be glad to help out.”
“I’d rather be here,” I admit. “Although it’s good to know that Pearl’s available. I’d hate to leave you in the lurch if I need to dash off for whatever reason.”
I resist the urge to check my phone for the millionth time, just in case. I’d turned the ringer up to the highest volume and made my mum promise to call me if there was any news, no matter how small.
“Pearl’s more than happy to come whenever. That’s the thing about having family close by, they’re always on hand in an emergency.”
Pearl’s related to Maggie by marriage – she’s Maggie’s ex-husband’s aunt – and is a warm-hearted woman with a friendly smile. She’s usually being dragged around the park by her dachshund puppy, and has admitted that she sees the shifts she helps out with at The Lake House Café as some much-needed respite from her livewire canine companion.
“Hopefully there won’t be any emergencies,” I say grimly. “At the hospital we’re sitting around waiting for news and the time goes so slowly. I kept looking at my watch and the hands were moving that slowly I thought it had stopped. At least here I can find things to keep me busy, and it’ll do me good to see happy faces rather than wallow in self-pity all day long.”
“If you’re absolutely sure, then I’m always glad to have you. You know I couldn’t run this place without your input. But any time you need to dash off, you go. You don’t even need to tell me, just whip off your apron and get out of that door. Family’s important, Fern. I’m an only child, but I know that the bond between siblings is strong. Even though Kelly and Josh are tearing each other to shreds half the time, they’d be devastated if anything happened to the other.”
My heart sinks, Maggie’s words reminding me of my promise. I’ve got a phone call to make.
“Can I just have five minutes before I start my shift? I told Luke I’d ring someone to let them know what’s happening…”
“You take your time,” Maggie says soothingly, before switching on the radio. It’s playing a rock-and-roll song, the kind that’d normally have me tapping my feet along to the beat. Today I don’t feel like dancing. I don’t feel like much at all.
“I’ll go and clear that table,” she adds, humming quietly as she starts stacking the plates left by some of the morning’s early-bird customers.
Retrieving my phone from my pocket, relieved not to have any missed calls or messages, I scroll through the list of names. Café. Dad. Dentist. Doctor. They all flash before me before I see the name I’m searching for. I press the call icon, dread eating me up from the inside. I swallow as the phone rings once, twice, three times, and then a familiar voice answers with a sharp, and slightly irritated, hello.
“Kelly? It’s me, Fern. Luke asked me to call you…”
There’s a nagging burning sensation nipping at my waist, the familiar gripe of a stitch building in my muscle. I’ve tried pinching it between my fingers and blowing out, something my old PE teacher used to insist was an instacure, but it’s not helping. I tried massaging it with my fingertips too, but that didn’t solve the problem either. There’s nothing for it but to slow down to a walk. The aches and pains are obviously my body’s way of telling me it’s had enough for today.
I’ve been running for a month now, which is approximately three weeks longer than I expected to stick at it. I made the rookie mistake of telling anyone who’d listen that I was doing a charity run, and because I have kind and generous (and borderline sadistic) friends and family they’d all been thrusting fivers at me and congratulating me on doing something so impressive. Admittedly, there were a few people who laughed in my face – namely my boss, who told me he’d offer sponsorship of a hundred pounds on behalf of Fine Time Events so long as I ran the whole half-marathon, obviously insinuating that he didn’t think I’d be capable. Well, I’ll bloody show him. There’s another nine weeks until the half-marathon. That’s plenty of time to up the mileage and my fitness, so long as I can find a way to get rid of this stitch.
“Lacey!” The cheery voice lifts my spirits and brings a smile to my face. The familiar tone wraps me up, warming and reassuring. “Don’t you go overdoing it, now.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle Carrick,” I say with a grin. “I know my limits. I managed forty minutes’ running today before I had to stop though, so I must be getting fitter.”
I’d been delighted with the improvement. My first ‘running’ session had been almost entirely walking, and whilst I still jog with a lolloping, ungainly gait, at least I’m picking up speed and covering more ground.
My uncle beams back, his wonky grin and twinkly eyes as sunny as the weather. “She’d be so proud of you for getting out there and doing something proactive. She was all about fighting for change, was Marilyn.”
“I think of her all the time,” I confess. “She inspires me to keep going when my legs are telling me to give up.”
I’d loved my aunt so much. Now, when my feet were aching and my thighs burning with pain, I close my eyes and imagine her face. Somehow it makes everything seem just that bit more manageable.
“It’s funny how you and her are so different to Dad,” I muse. “He’s always been so serious and strait-laced. It’s hard to believe you all have the same parents.”
Uncle Carrick snorts. “Well, Terrence always had ideas above his station. He was never going to be the type to settle for staying around these parts. Me and Marilyn, we were home birds, but your dad was forever talking about getting away. It was no surprise when he joined the army. Your Grandma Braithwaite told anyone who’d listen about how wonderful
