Chapter 19

The nurse was one she had not met before and, each time Erin asked a question, she kept her head down, referring to Claudia’s notes. ‘Did you want to speak to a doctor?’

‘Only if there’s something I need to know.’

‘The patient’s being treated for hypotension.’

‘In that case, I’d like to speak to her, or him,’ she added, hoping it was the Scottish one. The last week in January and the baby had reached twenty-seven and a half weeks. Every week mattered. Every day.

The nurse lifted a phone and, from her response, Erin guessed the doctor was busy and there would be a long delay.

‘I’ll go to the waiting room,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you could let me know when he comes back.’

‘Right you are.’ The nurse was so casual, Erin wanted to hit her. She was overreacting, but God knows, if anyone had good reason to overreact, it was her. She had been hoping Andrea would be on duty and the contrast between Andrea and this unfeeling nurse was hard to take.

As she walked down the corridor, her trainers squeaked on the grey linoleum. An empty trolley passed, wheeled by a porter, whistling under his breath, followed by two junior doctors with stethoscopes round their necks. By now, she ought to be used to hospital smells, but they still produced a feeling of dread. For the staff, the patients, Claudia included, were just bodies in beds, all in a day’s work, or was she being unfair? Andrea seemed to care.

She wanted to tell Claudia there was no need to worry, she would look after the baby, and tell her about her real mother and how, if things had been different, she would have played with her, and taken her to the zoo, and loved her. For the first time – was it actually the first time? – she missed Claudia’s loud voice and extravagant gestures. Once, alone in the loft, she had picked up her phone, thinking she would call her to tell her what was happening. Only a split second, like when you wake, thinking the dead person you were dreaming about is still alive. It had been like that when their parents were killed.

The waiting room was empty, apart from a man with the red-eyed look of someone who had cried himself dry. He offered to make her a cup of coffee, said he was making one for himself, but she declined the offer, picking up a magazine to make it clear she had no wish to talk. Perhaps he needed someone who would listen. But she was so worried about the baby and angry with the nurse.

Someone had made an effort to make the waiting room comfortable and reasonably cheerful, with the obligatory prints on the wall. There was no disguising the condensation on the windows, the collection of dog-eared magazines, or the sink with its draining board piled high with unwashed mugs and teaspoons, and the remains of a packet of stale digestive biscuits. Erin disliked digestive biscuits, but they always gave her a pang because they had been her father’s favourites. When you thought about the dead, it filled you with regret. I wish I’d eaten one of the biscuits Dad offered me. I wish I’d been more grateful when Mum knitted me a sweater that was far too big and baggy. I wish I’d asked Claudia how she made her rings and pendants and bracelets.

Prepared for a long wait, she barely had time to flick through the dispiriting pages of celebs – a feature about girls with fantastic breasts but thick ankles – when the nurse returned.

‘The doctor will speak to you now.’

Hurrying along the corridor, she caught up with the nurse in the small space she had come to know so well, where they both rubbed antiseptic gel on their hands, and dried them on paper towels. This nurse was not so bad. Erin told herself not to be so critical, and not to compare everyone with Andrea. She had turned Andrea into someone who could do no wrong. Just as she had done with Declan. And look where that had got her.

When she reached Claudia’s bed, the doctor – it was her bête noir – was waiting impatiently, but when she saw Erin she smiled, a kind smile that almost brought tears to Erin’s eyes. The first time they met she could have been on duty for twelve hours, or more. Today, she was different, more relaxed.

‘My sister,’ Erin began.

‘Have a seat, Erin. It is Erin, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Look, I’m sorry about last time but—’

The doctor waved aside her apology. ‘It’s a very stressful time for you, but there’s nothing to worry about at present.’

At present. The kind of throw-away remark that returns to haunt you when you lie awake, sleepless with anxiety. ‘The nurse said something about hypotension.’

‘Low blood pressure, but Claudia is responding well.’

She was talking as though Claudia was going to recover. But what else could she do? It was better than describing her, like a case study Erin had read online, as “the maternal organism”.

‘It’s possible delivery may have to take place a little sooner than we would have liked. A decision will be made in a day or two. As I said before, the foetus is a surprisingly good size for the number of weeks of gestation.’

‘I wonder if you could explain a few terms,’ Erin said. ‘There’s something called olig . . .’ She took a slip of paper from her jeans. ‘Oligohydramnios.’

‘You have been doing your homework. It means a deficiency in the amount of amniotic fluid. That’s certainly something we monitor carefully. It can be a problem but as of now . . . Any more questions?’

‘I don’t suppose you can say how likely it is the baby will be all right?’

The doctor had her back turned, checking one of the electrodes attached to Claudia’s upper chest. ‘With premature babies, it’s a question of monitoring their condition from hour to hour. Your sister’s baby will have immature lungs and may have to be kept on a ventilator at first.’

Erin opened her mouth to ask the question had been putting off, but the doctor got in first.

‘Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?’

When she left the hospital, she decided to stroll down to the shopping centre. She needed some more Indian ink, and while she was there she would look out for the health food shop where Diana worked part-time. Now that she had met her, she would not be taken in by Jon’s complaints that she was neurotically over-protective of Maeve. Jon was the neurotic one, tossing out enigmatic remarks then closing up like a clam.

An alleyway, littered with junk food containers, led through to the shops. Deep in thought, she jumped when a man, wearing a zipped-up hoodie, stepped out of a doorway and hurried past her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. The laces in his trainers trailed on the ground. He slowed down to re-tie them and, when she drew level, mumbled something she failed to catch.

‘Sorry? What did you say?’

He paused. His face was hidden, just a glimpse of dark hair. The man who hung about in her road? The figure in the graveyard? Running on ahead, he dashed across the road, almost into the path of a passing bus. Had he been following her? Did he know she visited the hospital every other day at more or less the same time? The foetus is a surprisingly good size. He could be the baby’s father, frantic to know what was happening to it. If it was going to survive.

Forget about the Indian ink, and Diana’s shop. Like it or not, her only hope of finding out more, was to talk to Ava again.

Ava pointed to a table well away from the door. ‘People keep leaving it open and letting in cold air. What can I get you, my darling?’

‘Just an orange juice, please.’

‘Coming up.’ Ava’s broad hips swayed between the tables, with practised expertise. She would know the orange juice was an excuse, but from the look of her she was in a better mood than last time. Either that, or she had prepared herself for another visit and knew how she was going to handle it.

The table where Erin was sitting could have done with a wipe and the floor next to her chair was covered in crumbs. Close by, an old man, with a droopy moustache, was making his cup of tea last as long as possible. Erin nodded in his direction and he raised a hand in greeting.

‘Chilly today.’

‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ The good old weather to fall back on. Like the man in the raincoat who walked up and down Claudia’s road. Her road. Was he a widower? He gave the impression he was the archetypal bachelor.

‘Always nice and warm in here.’

‘Yes, it is.’ The café smelled of stale cheese, thinly disguised with cinnamon, and Erin considered making a deal with Ava. Tell me everything you know and in return I promise to give the place a thorough spring clean. She could just imagine Ava’s face.

A glass of juice was placed in front of her and, to her surprise, Ava pulled up a chair. ‘So what did you think of the play?’

‘Oh. Kent told you I went to see it?’

‘No, but I assumed curiosity would get the better of you.’

‘I talked to him afterwards but he has no idea where Ollie is. He hadn’t been in touch.’

‘No?’ Erin had expected Ava to be disappointed, but the expression on her face was more one of relief. ‘Actually, I don’t think he and Ollie were that close.’

‘The play was quite unusual.’

‘I’ll bet.’ Ava’s hands were clasped together, as though she had a genuine interest. ‘A parody of Hamlet, wasn’t it?’

‘Only three characters and I don’t think there was a magician in Hamlet. Although there was a ghost.’

‘But not in Kent’s version. Tell me, Erin, have you thought what’s going to happen after the baby’s born? It’s unfair, all that responsibility put on you.’ She studied Erin’s expression, misinterpreting it. ‘You’ve never wanted children? Me neither.’

Erin picked up her drink. ‘You mentioned that Hoshi helped paint the walls in Claudia’s loft.’

‘When she knew you were coming to live there.’

‘Did Claudia pay him?’

Ava laughed. ‘Oh, you’re thinking she paid him in other ways. I know I complained Claudia could be tactless, but only because she was so spontaneous.’

‘Impulsive.’

‘Yes, but that’s a good trait, isn’t it. Living life to the full, I was terribly fond of her.’

‘When I left the hospital earlier today, a man was hanging about, waiting for me.’

‘Waiting for you?’ Her voice was high-pitched with incredulity. ‘You’re overwrought, my dear, but why wouldn’t you be? Obviously, you knew your sister far better than I did, but if you want my honest opinion . . .’ She broke off, checking in case a customer was waiting to be served. ‘Ollie’s a dear, but young for his age, much too young to be a parent. I expect he’d like to give the baby up for adoption but feels he’d be letting down your sister. I know you wanted Claudia kept on life support but—’

‘If I want your honest opinion?’

‘Take no notice, my darling. When tragedy befalls us, we always look for an explanation. Human nature, I suppose.’