Helena sat in the back seat of the squad car, blue lights wailing through the city towards Dublin City Hospital. Tears wound their way down her face as she looked out through the window, where the streets sped past in a blur of grey. As bright autumn sunshine streamed in through the glass, her mind whirred with regrets. How she wished she could turn back the clock. Why had she shut James out? They had been living like strangers for the last three weeks. She should have talked to him, explained just how hurt she was feeling by his contact with the surrogacy clinic instead of letting her anger speak for her. Why hadn’t she listened to him on the many times he had tried to explain himself over the last few weeks? Why had she stayed late in work to avoid seeing him? He might have handled things differently to her, but he was suffering too.
With sudden clarity, she now realised he had just wanted to solve the problem. By nature, James was a fixer and he had thought he could do that by rushing straight into surrogacy; it wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t ready to consider that option. He wanted to wave a magic wand over their problems and produce a baby like a magician pulls a rabbit from a hat. Abracadabra, one, two, three. He clearly hadn’t realised what a huge step it would be for her – or if she would ever be ready – to go down that route. She had to go through a grieving process first as she came to terms with the fact that she would never carry her own child.
Now she wished more than anything that she could turn back the hands of time, because no matter how much pain she was experiencing, the thought that she might never see him again was so much worse than anything they had been through together. Why hadn’t she been able to see all the good things she had, instead of mourning what could have been?
Helena wasn’t religious, but even so, she found herself pleading with God to give her another chance to put things right between them. She made a bargain with him that if he would spare her husband, she would never take his love for granted again.
When the squad car reached the hospital, Helena flung open the door and ran towards the Emergency Department before the Garda had even turned off the engine. She had spent a rotation working here, so she knew what direction to go in.
‘I’m the wife of James O’Herlihy,’ she announced breathlessly when she reached the reception desk.
She watched the woman’s face change as she nodded knowingly. Her eyebrows pinched together in sudden recognition and Helena was sure she could see sympathy in the woman’s eyes. It felt as though she had a brick sitting in her stomach. She knew that bad news was coming.
‘Mrs O’Herlihy, if you want to follow me,’ the woman said, removing her reading glasses and getting up from her seat.
Helena’s heart was racing and her legs felt as wobbly as a new-born foal’s as she followed the woman down the corridor. Her breath snagged with every inhale; she knew where she was being taken. They were going to the room they used whenever they had to deliver bad news. The one with the red door. She remembered it from her time working here. She shivered as she recalled the families to whom she had had to deliver awful news to once upon a time, the pain and anguish on their faces would never leave her.
They reached the door and her ears were buzzing as if a cloud of flies were swarming around her. She didn’t want to go inside where she knew her life would never be the same again. She didn’t want to hear what they were going to tell her. How she wished she could pause life right here. If she could just stay right here in the corridor, plant her two feet on the floor and not move, then everything could still be okay. However, when the woman kept walking down the corridor, passing the red door by, Helena was confused.
‘You mean, he’s not—?’ Helena couldn’t bring herself to use the word as she hurried to keep up with the woman.
‘He’s in theatre, Mrs O’Herlihy. I’m taking you to the waiting area for family members. One of the medical team will speak with you to give you an update on his condition as soon as they are finished in surgery.’
A sob choked in Helena’s throat. He’s alive. Relief flooded through her. Although she knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet; she would take this one step at a time and right now he was still here and that was all that mattered.
She followed the woman to a room at the end of the corridor, where several blue plastic chairs ran around the walls. She was the only one in there. The woman asked her if she could get her a tea or coffee, but Helena shook her head. She knew she would probably just vomit it straight back up again.
She was pacing up and down reading the health posters absent-mindedly when eventually a doctor with black wavy hair, clad in scrubs entered the room.
‘Are you Mrs O’Herlihy?’ he began.
‘Please, just tell me how he is?’ she said quickly, not wanting to waste time with formalities.
‘I’m Doctor Choudhary. Your husband is doing well, all things considered. He sustained a fracture to his left femur which required emergency stabilisation surgery. Thankfully, that seems to be the extent of his injuries. He doesn’t appear to have any internal bleeding, although we will be keeping a close eye just in case. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he is doing as well as can be expected given the circumstances.’
Helena exhaled and felt the warmth of relief flooding through her body. She knew those injuries were serious – a broken femur could be life-threatening – but she was so grateful to get another chance with him. Bones could heal. They could be fixed.
‘He should be counting his lucky stars,’ Doctor Choudhary went on, ‘to be a front-seat passenger in a crash like that… He is lucky to be alive.’ He shook his head.
‘Passenger?’ Helena repeated the word. A seemingly small detail, but it threw up so many questions in her mind. She had assumed he had been knocked off his bike. Whose car had he been in? James usually cycled to the GreenCoffee offices in the Grand Canal basin – he hated sitting in traffic. He had set up the chain of environmentally friendly coffee shops seven years ago and they were rapidly expanding across Dublin. Then her mind caught up; maybe he was a passenger in a taxi or perhaps he was going to a meeting with a colleague and they had decided to travel together. There were lots of reasons why he would have been a passenger.
‘Yes, Mr O’Herlihy was travelling in the passenger seat. He is stable now if you want to see him? Bear in mind, he’s still quite drowsy after the anaesthetic, so don’t be alarmed if he seems disorientated or confused.’
‘What about the driver?’ Helena pressed. ‘Are they okay?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say until the next of kin have been informed.’
Helena felt a chill wash through her. ‘Of course.’ She nodded. She knew the protocol.
‘Now, if you’d like to follow me, Mrs O’Herlihy, I will take you to see your husband.’