Last time I was here it was dark. Even now, in daylight, the building is achingly familiar with its glass-roofed entrance and the blue NHS sign on the wall.
I breathe deeply. I’ve made it.
In through the sliding doors, I’m hit by that hospital smell of cabbage and antiseptic. Everywhere I look there’s doctors, wheelchairs, trolleys, teddy bear-shaped balloons on sticks. There’s a queue at reception, so I find the lifts and jump in just as the doors are closing.
‘Which floor, love?’ says a lady doing the buttons.
‘Cheetah Ward’ is all I can remember.
‘Fourth floor,’ she says.
We start to go up. I’m fidgety as anything. There are other people in the lift. No one speaks. Everyone’s watching the buttons light up.
First floor … second floor … Each one takes me nearer to Theo.
At the fourth floor, the lift doors open. I’m the only person getting out. Cheetah Ward is just down the corridor. There’s a mural on the wall, showing wild animals and flowers. It looks as nice as a hospital can look.
The doors to the ward are locked so I press a bell. No one comes. I press again. My legs start jiggling. Finally a nurse comes out. She’s dressed in blue with a face mask round her neck. Her name badge tells me she’s called Jo.
‘Can I help you?’ Jo says.
I tuck my hair behind my ears. Stand up tall. ‘I’m here to see Theo Campbell, please.’
‘And you are?’
‘His sister, Alice.’
‘Aha, I’ve heard about you.’ Jo smiles. ‘Your mum tells me you’ve been a real star these past months.’
Though my cheeks go hot, I smile back.
‘Is your gran with you?’ she says, glancing over my shoulder.
‘No, she doesn’t like hospitals.’
‘Me neither,’ says Jo. She’s joking, I think. She doesn’t seem in any hurry to let me in, either.
‘So can I see him?’ I ask.
‘Sorry, but the rules are only two visitors per bedside,’ Jo says. ‘And now you’re here, that makes three.’
I don’t quite follow. Mum’s here and … who else?
Jo answers for me. ‘I’ll tell your parents you’re here.’
Parents.
I’m not smiling now.
That means Mum and … Dad?
So he did come after all.
Jo’s seen the shock on my face; she gives my arm a quick squeeze. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
At the door, she stops to use the hand gel, then she’s gone again.
I lean against the wall. My head’s reeling. Of all the things I’d expected today, Dad wasn’t on the list.
Don’t expect me to be pleased, I think. I came all this way to visit Theo, not Dad, who hasn’t seen us for months. Who didn’t even think it was important enough to come straight to the hospital when Theo was admitted. So if there’s too many visitors he can leave, not me.
The door to the ward flies open. Mum rushes out into the corridor.
‘Alice, sweetheart!’ she cries, throwing her arms around me. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Nell?’
I hug her back. She smells different. Not of soap powder like she usually does, but as if she’s been in these clothes for days. She clings on so tight it’s hard to breathe.
‘You’re suffocating me,’ I say.
Mum lets go. There’s a pause. She looks tired. Her hair’s all dirty and there are shadows under her eyes. She’s not smiling either.
‘I promised Theo I’d come,’ I say. ‘I’ve missed him so much. I couldn’t wait any longer.’
‘I’m sorry, darling. It’s been …’ Mum’s face crumples and she starts to cry. Then I remember Dad’s here somewhere too and I bet that’s why she’s upset. There are some fold-down seats on the wall opposite. Going over to them, we sit. Mum cries a bit more, then blows her nose and takes a shuddery breath.
‘Is Nell waiting outside?’ she asks.
I know then that Nell hasn’t phoned Mum. That Mum doesn’t know I’ve come here by myself. So I tell her.
She gasps. ‘You didn’t! Oh, Alice!’
‘Shush, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m here now so stop fussing.’
‘But what about school? And Nell? Oh, Alice, tell me she knows you’re here!’
I fiddle with my coat sleeves.
Mum peers into my face. ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’
Mum groans. I hoped she’d be pleased to see me but this isn’t going to plan.
‘I’d better call her now,’ she says, getting out her phone.
She stands up and walks a little way down the corridor. There’s the murmur of voices, but I can’t hear exactly what’s being said.
‘School called her earlier to say you’d not turned up. She’s not happy with you, you know,’ Mum says as she sits down again. ‘But you’ll have to deal with that when you get back.’
I don’t want to think about Nell. Or school. Or going back. I’m here to see my brother and that’s all that matters.
‘How is Theo?’ I ask.
She shrugs. I wait for the cheery comment, the big smile, the little joke, but instead her eyes go teary again and my insides fall away. Things aren’t right, are they? I wasn’t just imagining it down the phone.
‘Can I see him?’ I ask, getting to my feet. ‘Will you come with me?’
What I mean is, I don’t want to be in there with Dad. I want it just to be Theo, Mum and me.
‘It’s only two visitors per bed,’ Mum sniffs. ‘Your dad’s with him now.’
Mum blinks slowly. She looks done in.
The ward door swings open. It’s Jo, the nurse. Behind her is my dad. ‘Looks like he’s leaving anyway,’ says Mum.
Except Dad’s not leaving. Brushing past Jo, he walks straight up to us. As I get ready to be cross with him, Mum jumps to her feet.
‘What is it, David?’ she says. ‘What’s happened?’
Then Dad sees me.
‘Wow … I mean … Alice,’ he stutters. ‘This is a … surprise.’
He looks terrible. Worse than Mum. His eyes are all pouchy underneath and his stubble’s got grey bits in it. He looks old.
‘Is Nell with you?’ he asks, glancing up and down the corridor.
Because I don’t answer, Mum chips in. ‘She came by herself.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Unlike Mum, he seems almost relieved.
Jo joins us.
‘You’d better come in,’ she says.
‘What’s going on?’ Mum sounds scared; I don’t like it.
‘Please, just come back inside. The doctor wants to have a chat with you.’
She directs Mum and Dad back through the door. No one mentions visitor numbers now, so as we pause to wash our hands in antiseptic gel, I slip in too. The door clicks shut behind us.
We set off down a corridor that’s got strip lights all along the ceiling. It makes my eyes hurt. Then we go through another set of doors, past children wired up to drips and machines that beep.
We’re walking quickly. There’s another beep. This one’s nearer. It’s Jo’s pager. Instantly she’s running. So are Mum and Dad. I don’t know what’s happening, but now I’m running too.