Letting You Go (15 page)

The whole front glass wall of Wallflowers Florist’s rattled violently in front of her. An intensely unpleasant pain seared through the front of Alex’s face. She stumbled back and landed ungracefully on her backside, her mum’s flowers bashed against the floor in a pink mess.

‘Whoa, there! Alex!’ He was darting towards her. A pair of CAT boots appeared beside Alex’s legs. They had a tiny digger motif branded next to the laces.

‘I’m fine! Perfectly fine!’ Alex protested, tears of pain pooling in her eyeballs. Jem burst back into the shop. Two capable hands were suddenly under Alex’s arms, easing her back to her feet.

Jem had taken her glasses off. Her eyes looked red and puffy. ‘Alex! Oh my God, you’re bleeding.’

Really?
‘Really? Oh, it’s fine, honestly.’
Did Jem say bleeding?
Hooray!

‘Carrie? Tissues,’ Finn commanded. Alex was mortified. Carrie nipped behind the counter and produced a tissue box.

‘You can’t have a door like that, Carrie. Where are the safety stickers?’ Jem hissed.

Carrie held out the box. ‘What?’

Alex grabbed a handful and pressed it to her face. She could taste the blood now.

‘Are you OK?’ Finn asked.

‘Absolutely fine!’ she trilled.

Finn’s eye narrowed.

‘That door! It needs something on it. Look at my sister!’

‘Jem, really, I’m totally fine!’ Alex’s nose felt numb and tingly. It was making her voice sound numb and tingly too. Finn was watching her. He gently pulled Alex’s hand away then crouched down so he could better inspect her nose.

‘This isn’t going to look very attractive, but trust me, it’ll help the bleeding.’

Finn bunched up a tissue and gently inserted it into Alex’s nostril.

‘I’m so clumsy,’ she mumbled. Oh for crying out loud.
This
was why only Jem had had any success with ballet. Blythe had signed Alex up for horn dancing instead.

Finn had got the second nostril plugged before Alex’s embarrassment really kicked in. This was what her mother spoke about, a person’s wrongs coming back to kick them in the backside. Or hit them in the face like a glass door.

‘Well, it’s normally open,’ Carrie protested.

‘Well it’s not open now, is it?’ Jem spat.

Carrie reared like a coiled snake. ‘Don’t lecture me, Jem Foster. If you were any good with doors, you wouldn’t still be firmly on the inside of the clo—’

‘Ladies!’ Finn said with the cool efficiency of a bomb-disposal unit. ‘I’ll sort it, I have something back at the shop. Leave it with me, Jem.’

Jem and Carrie traded scowls but only Jem’s chest was heaving with adrenalin.

‘Come on, Jem.’ Alex tried to say chirpily.
Before I die right here of embarrassment.
‘Mum’s waiting.’ She heard her voice, it sounded as if a bus had parked up each nostril. Alex gave Finn a feeble smile then set her eyes anywhere but near him. ‘Thanks,’ she managed feebly. She should have at least offered an excuse for yesterday’s no show.

Finn looked embarrassed for her. ‘No problem at all, Foster. See you around.’

Jem gathered up what flowers were still intact and took Alex by the arm. Nobody said anything else until they were back at the truck.

Alex fiddled the keys into her door. Jem was glaring over the truck roof, rage rippling from her. ‘What?’ Jem snapped.

Alex was already feeling sorry for herself. ‘Jem! You’re not fifteen any more, you can’t just go blowing off at people because they tick you off! Was there any need for that?’ She sounded completely ridiculous with all this tissue shoved up her nose.

‘Any need for what? Defending you?’

‘There was nothing to defend, Jem! It was my own stupid fault. I wasn’t watching what I was doing.’ The burden of being a total idiot intensified.

‘Carrie’s a bitch, Alex. You are allowed to say it.’

‘She is? And you were polite, were you? You were in a bad mood before we even walked in, Jem.’

‘Yeah well, excuse me for trying to do what you never had to.’

‘Do what?’

‘
Deal
with things, Alex!’ Jem wasn’t shouting exactly.

Alex looked about them at the rest of the people on the high street. It seemed busier now, even for a Sunday morning. No wonder the shops were all trading. ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Jem?

‘Put it this way, Alex, if I didn’t fight my battles, no-one else was there to. It’s not like I had a big sister around, was it? In fact, the only person I ever remember having in my corner when I needed them was Mal Sinclair.’

It felt like slamming into another glass wall. Alex took in the emotions playing out over Jem’s face. But Jem was the sibling she
hadn’t
let down, wasn’t she?

‘What do you mean, Jem?’ But Alex already knew she didn’t want the answer.

‘It means, Alex, you’re a runner. You were always a good runner, faster than I ever was. You were running just now, in there. You didn’t even bother opening the door first! Because you can’t handle Finn. Because you could
never
handle Finn. Well running away from everything might have been the best thing for you, but when things were happening in
my
life, it would’ve been nice if you’d have stopped to look back over your shoulder.’

B
lythe was having her catheter bag changed. Alex was pretending to look for the card that had come with the enormous bouquet in front of her. She’d set her own handful of battered pink peonies next to them; they were already slouching limply in a vase too big for them. Alex let her eyes slope off to the view over the hospital car park. As if the morning hadn’t become miserable enough, the sun had abandoned them to the grips of a torrential summer downpour.

‘All done, Blythe. I’ll see you in a little while. Buzz if you need anything.’ Alex turned to see her mum giving the nurse a grateful smile, one side of her face bright and warm, the other reluctant to be affected. The nurse stopped at the hand-wash beside the door. Alex turned back to the flowers again.

You’re a runner, Alex.
Jem was right. But she’d only left the Falls to keep from making anything any worse, because that’s what she’d heard him say they all needed, once.
Time and distance.
How could Jem think it was because
she didn’t care? It had
never
been because she didn’t care.

Alex took a bracing breath.
You are a coward, Alex.
It was the same with the new marks she’d spotted on her mother’s hospital bedclothes. Three days in a row she’d found a new stain but the staff were all so nice and she couldn’t think of a way to ask how often the sheets were changed without sounding like one of
those
relatives. The nurse turned the tap off again. Well Alex was going to mention it now, have some balls for a change and not care who she offended because her mum shouldn’t be sleeping under grubby sheets. That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

Alex tried psyching herself up.

‘They’re beauties, aren’t they?’ The nurse smiled at Alex as she reached for the door handle and paused. ‘Your mother must have a sixth sense,’ she said, turning to Blythe. ‘When I came in to take your obs, you were talking about flowers then, Blythe. Now look at them all.’

Alex’s new assertiveness halted in its tracks. She regarded the whopping bouquet again. They really were beautiful, anyone would think Elton John was staying in Room 2. She could always mention the sheets later. ‘They are really gorgeous. Did my dad bring them in this morning?’

The nurse stalled at the door. ‘Oh they’d arrived before your dad, young lady. And on a Sunday too! They must’ve paid extra for that. You got yourself a secret admirer,
Blythe?’ the nurse teased. The nurse winked playfully at Alex. ‘If I were you, I’d find that card and check for yourself, make sure your mum’s not giving your poor dad the run around.’

Alex smiled. It made her nose hurt. Almost as much as her pride did. ‘I would, but … the card must’ve dropped out somewhere. Who are they from, Mum?’

Blythe turned her head slowly towards Alex. ‘I don’t know, darling,’ she drawled. Alex kept forgetting. Every time she spoke, it was like learning her mum was ill again. Blythe blinked slowly. ‘I was sleeping. I missed your father as well.’ She was still trying to smile

Alex heard her mother swallow, a laborious considered swallow, the way people swallowed when their glands were swollen or they had the mother of all sore throats. ‘Where’s Jem?’ Blythe asked slowly.

Alex began rearranging the bouquet as if she had a clue what she was doing. ‘She’s not very well, Mum … another headache,’ Alex lied. It wasn’t a complete lie, there was definitely something not well with Jem earlier. Something Alex knew nothing about, because she was a crap sister.

Alex found the little stick thing where the florist’s card had been pronged into the bouquet but there was only a business card.
The Bay Tree Floral Studio, Kerring.
Not from Carrie’s shop then. Jem would be pleased.

‘Alex?’

‘Hmm?’ Alex had messed up the shape of the bouquet.
She gave up with the flowers and began pouring her mother another beaker of water.

‘Is everything … all right … at home?’

Alex had overfilled the cup. It would spill all down her mum before Blythe would manage to sip from it.

‘Sure. Everything’s fine, Mum.’

Blythe patted the bed with the hand that hadn’t abandoned her. Blythe’s body might not be ready for much, but her eyes shone brown and resolute. Alex recognised a small part of herself. ‘Look after … each … other, darling.’

‘We are, Mum.’ Alex smiled. But that was the biggest lie of all. They were surviving each other and every one of them knew it.

‘Your father … he’s a good man … Alex.’

Blythe was tiring. Alex spoke just to give her mum chance to rest. ‘I know he is, Mum.’

‘Don’t leave.’

‘I only just got here, Mum. Have you made your lunch selection yet? Would you like me to fill it out?’ Had to be her right side, didn’t it? Even filling in her own dinner card was a mountain to climb for her now.

Alex felt her mother’s thumb move over her cheek like she was still a little girl about to be sent through the gates of St Bertie’s for the day. ‘No. Don’t leave
the Falls …
I want us all … to talk. When I come home.’ Her mum’s eyes were locked on her.

‘Sure, Mum. Talk about what?’

Blythe smoothed a few strands of Alex’s hair around her
face before resting her fingers on top of Alex’s hand. ‘We need, to talk … about your brother.’

Alex dialled Jem again, before she left the hospital car park. Jem might fancy a bottle of wine or something, maybe they could have a girls’ night, do what sisters do.
Talk.
Jem was happy enough talking to everyone else at the minute, Mal Sinclair, that George from work who kept ringing day and night and who Alex had a growing suspicion was the person hanging up on her each time she got to the phone first.

Jem’s mobile cut straight to answerphone again. Alex heard a bleep warning the battery on her phone was nearly dead.

She tried again. This time it rang.

‘Pick up, Jem, pick up, pick up, pick up …’

‘Hey.’ Jem sounded resigned.

‘Jem. Are you OK? Where have you been all day? I thought you’d come to the hospital, I’ve been calling the house—’

‘I’m not at the house. I went for a walk. I wanted some fresh air.’ Alex’s wipers squeaked over the windscreen. She couldn’t hear torrential rain in the background.

‘Nice day for it,’ Alex tried. Alex’s phone bleeped again. Jem was still quiet. ‘Jem? I’m just leaving Kerring General. When I get home … can we talk?’

Alex heard Jem take a deep breath at the other end. ‘What
I said earlier, Al. I didn’t mean it. Really, we don’t need to talk about it. I’m sorry.’

Alex bit at her lip. She could just leave it there. No need to kick up any hornets’ nests. She could pick up a bottle on the way home anyway, talk Jem into another shot at the DVD collection. But she couldn’t accept that
sorry.

‘Please, don’t say sorry, Jem. I’m sorry. If you say Carrie’s a bitch, that should have been good enough for me.’

‘Alex, it’s not Carrie. I couldn’t give a shit what Carrie gets up to. Not any more. And before you ask, I promise, it’s not you. You’re the last person I want to fall out with right now.’

Alex felt lifted by that.

‘Mum’s going to be OK, Jem. She’s getting better every day.’

There was a long pause. The wipers schlumped across the windscreen again. Alex’s phone battery bleeped.

‘I know. Everything is fine.’

Jem sounded weird. She’d been weird for days.

‘Jem?’ Alex hesitated. ‘You’ve had your head somewhere else since you went out with Mal the other night. Has something happened?’ More silence. ‘Jem. Please talk to me. You were right earlier. I should’ve been around for you, I should’ve been better than I was. Whatever’s bothering you, you don’t have to carry it around on your own. Just … let me in.’

Alex could hear small breathy sounds. Jem was crying.
Jem.
‘What is it, Jem? What’s happened? Did Mal say something to upset you?’

‘Alex. There’s someth—’

The line went dead. The wipers cleared the view again for a few seconds before the rain fought back.

‘Jem?’ Alex watched her screen go into power meltdown.
Shit.
She threw her phone across the dash and set her head back against the driver’s seat.
Almost, Alex.
Jem had almost leant on her.

Across the car park, a huddled figure was trying to hold a coat over the front of a pushchair. Alex watched them make it a few steps in the downpour, then the woman stopped and beckoned behind her. Alex scanned along the path back towards the hospital entrance. A little girl was standing under the canopy, shaking her head.

‘You’re not thinking about walking all the way back to town in this …’ Mrs Parsons skipped back and lifted her daughter onto her hip. Alex surveyed the sky above them for a promising pocket of blue. She watched them struggle over a kerb. ‘You can’t … you can’t push a pram with one hand and hold your little—’ Alex fired up the truck, cranked it into gear and cut a path across the hospital car park.

She pulled alongside them and Mrs Parsons skittered away to the other side of the path as if Alex’s intention had been to mount the kerb and bundle them all into the boot like some crime lord.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I don’t think the buses run on Sundays, can I give you a lift?’ Mrs Parsons looked
even more slight in the rain. The little girl’s dark hair was starting to stick to her forehead in wet streaks. ‘Really, it’s no bother. You live in the one of the terraced houses, at the top of Eilidh high street, right? It’s on my way, we can throw the pram in the boot!’

Mrs Parsons looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. She looked for a pocket of blue sky too, and admitted defeat. Alex was already getting out to help. She reached up and offered to take the little girl from her mum’s hip. Both looked unsure. ‘Come on, we’ve shared a breakfast muffin already.’ A slice of carrot cake too but Alex didn’t like to mention it. ‘Let’s share a ride home.’