It had been several weeks since John had left for London, and Adele was still finding it difficult. Even though she was now in touch with him, and he had forgiven her rash behaviour, it wasn’t the same as having him here with her.
At work she coped by pouring herself into her new supervisory role, which helped to take her mind off things. But the nights were the most difficult. As she glanced at the clock, she dreaded the long evening that stretched ahead of her.
She was presently occupying herself by listening to more sad ballads, but at least she wasn’t drinking as much. Instead she consoled herself by eating. She’d always had a sweet tooth, which she had managed to keep under control until now. Shortbread, chocolate and cream cakes were now a nightly indulgence. To hell with the few pounds she’d gained; she had nobody to look good for now.
While she listened to her music, she relived the break-up again in her mind. All the whys and wherefores were never far from her thoughts. She couldn’t help but beat herself up over it, and was almost relieved when the ringing phone gave her a change of focus. That was, until she found out who it was and what had happened.
‘Adele, it’s yer mam. I’m in hospital, love.’
Her mother’s voice sounded weak and shaky, sending Adele into an immediate panic. ‘What is it, Mam? What’s happened?’
‘I… I’ve had an accident. I fell down the stairs. I’m all right. There’s nothing to worry about but I need some things from home.’
‘Oh my God! Are you OK?’
‘Yes, just a few bruises, that’s all. But they won’t let me go home till the doctor’s seen me tomorrow morning so I’m going to need some stuff.’
‘Sure,’ said Adele. ‘What is it you need?’
Adele knew immediately that the story about falling down the stairs was fabricated, probably for the benefit of eavesdroppers. While she took a note of the things her mother needed, the thought occurred to her that her father should have been taking her mother’s things into hospital. This convinced her even more that something must have happened between her parents although she doubted whether he would have been that helpful anyway. He wasn’t like normal husbands.
‘What ward are you in and what time is visiting?’ asked Adele. She wrote the details down on a piece of paper. ‘OK,’ she added. ‘I’ll bring your things tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to collect them but I can come and visit you tonight as well if you like.’
‘No, it’s OK, love. It’s getting a bit late now. You won’t have long by the time you get here.’
Adele looked at the clock. Ten past seven. She did a quick calculation in her head; five minutes to freshen up and a short drive that would only take fifteen minutes at this time of night. That meant she should have at least half an hour with her mother before visiting finished at eight o’clock.
‘No, I’ll come,’ said Adele. ‘I’ve got nothing else on and I can be there in no time.’
Adele was curious. She wanted to see for herself what sort of state her mother was in and the fact that she was trying to put her off didn’t sound good. She guessed that if her mother hadn’t wanted her to fetch some things then she would probably have tried to conceal her injuries from her altogether. The way her mother always tried to cover up for her father still puzzled Adele.
She raced around the house, and within just over five minutes she was ready to go and assess the latest damage her father had inflicted.
*
It took a while to find Ward 13 and, by the time Adele had traipsed through the extensive hospital grounds, it was twenty to eight. She rushed through the ward, passing beds surrounded by the families and friends of patients.
When Adele reached the end of the ward she still hadn’t found her mother. She checked the details she had written down again. Yes, definitely Ward 13. She wondered whether she might have taken it down incorrectly but she was fairly certain that her mother had said thirteen. She remembered the irony of that particular number. Unlucky for some.
Adele decided to walk back down the ward and take it slowly this time. With all the visitors around, it was difficult to see the patients. But something told her that her mother probably wouldn’t have any visitors.
There had been one patient without visitors but she’d passed her by. It couldn’t be her. Surely? But what if it was? Adele felt a sense of doom. She made a point of looking at that patient as she approached.
Adele stopped at the end of the bed, trying to take in the woman’s features. It was difficult to tell whether it was her mother or not; the injuries were so bad. In the end it was her mother’s straggly hair that gave her away. When Adele was within a metre of her, she gasped in shock. Shirley attempted a lopsided smile from her swollen, misshapen lips.
‘Oh, Mam,’ said Adele, rushing towards her.
As Adele put her arms around her mother, she could feel tears of distress cloud her eyes. She forced the tears back, not wanting to upset her. She held her gently, careful to avoid the bruising to her arms and trying not to press too hard on the arm that was in plaster. Shirley’s face was so full of bruises and red welts that there was hardly any unblemished flesh visible, and her lips were split and puffy. Her eyes were both swollen and coloured black and blue. It was no wonder she hadn’t called out when Adele walked past; she probably couldn’t see to the end of the bed.
She was wearing a flimsy hospital gown with a wide neckline, and Adele could see that the bruising also extended to her throat and shoulders. The marks on her throat looked like angry fingerprints and Adele baulked at the thought that her father had tried to strangle her.
Adele had a flashback to a few years previously when her father had given Peter a savage beating. She could relive the event even now. The fear coursing through her. A desperate need to help her brother. The blood spattering. Her brother’s face a mask of pain and the stinging blows she received as she tried to form a human shield. Adele’s breath caught in her throat. She could picture the scene only too well.
‘What brought this on?’ she asked.
Shirley’s eyes flitted across to the visitors sitting around the neighbouring bed. ‘I told you, I fell down the stairs,’ she said.
Adele knew that her mother wouldn’t confide in her while other people could overhear so she dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Why, Mam? I thought he wasn’t as bad these days.’
Shirley glanced across at a woman who was watching them and shrugged her shoulders. The movement caused her to wince in pain.
‘What about your arm?’ whispered Adele. ‘Is it broken?’
‘Yeah,’ Shirley replied. Then, noticing that the woman’s eyes were still on them, she added loudly, ‘That must have happened because I fell funny.’
There was nothing funny about this situation, Adele thought, sardonically, but before they had chance to discuss the matter any further a nurse announced that visiting time was over. Adele would have to wait until the next day to hear the horrifying truth.