I was glad when he finally began to cry. I wanted him to cry.

Chapter 16

Margaret Rose ran a facecloth under the tap at our communal sink and brought it to Alex, handed it to him, and caught his elbow, shoving it towards me. He placed it on my forehead, then he put his arm around the small of my back and he sobbed into me. I struggled to catch my breath, but I stayed still, like an animal in shock, or hit by a car bumper. I didn’t want him to let go. I was afraid if I let go, he would too. I spat my tears out to the air and to the ward. Jane raised herself bolt upright, yellow mask in place, and leaped from her bed, incontinence pad stuck to her milky calf.

‘Darlings,’ she said, ‘you’re all here, how wonderful, how wonderful.’ She began screaming. ‘Well now, everyone is here, and oh, how wonderful. WOnderFUL.’

‘Tuesday, TUESDAY,’ Alex said, breathless, and lifting up his head, ‘you were born on a Tuesday, ten-twenty, night-time, Labour ward five.’ He smiled. ‘Tuesday, you’re a Tuesday girl, Fair, Tuesday’s child is fair of mind, here, you were born here, here in this Hospital on a Tuesday.’

Jane hadn’t stopped. I pushed my thumb into the soft green button and our bell rang out over the door. Flashing lights, but no one would come quickly, of this I was certain, but my certainty was not a victory, I rang again. I was wrong. Molly Zane rushed into the ward dabbing the corner of her mouth with a tissue. Pink bandana – check. Vintage pink matt lips – check.

‘Hey, hey. What’s going on? You OK?’ she said, and looked at me. ‘All OK?’ Alex nodded.

Her eyes found Jane.

‘Oh, absolutely WONDERful, you’re here. The pretty one. With the cowboy scarf. How lovely.’

‘Ah, Jane, come now. Let me grab that pad off your leg, darl,’ Molly said.

Jane watched her closely, growing quieter now.

‘You’re in a tirrible fix, Jane,’ Molly said, kindly, pressing another buzzer on the side of the bed that also went off outside the door.

Ted Baker arrived and he ignored Molly and Jane. Appeasing old ladies was not his brief.

‘Miss Hegarty?’ Claire nodded. ‘Hi, hello, the nurses are telling me your father is bradycardic.’ He looked rather puzzled and checked his chart and another and tapped Hegs with a long stick with a circular thing attached to its end. ‘Could you perhaps, hmmm, maybe turn out this way, sir?’ he asked, as he rotated Hegs until his legs dangled off the side of the bed.

‘I’m really not sure this is entirely necessary …’ Claire offered.

In here, reflexes were everything. Well, next to bowels. Ms Claire was edgy.

‘It’s just so very strange …’ Ted Baker went on. ‘Now I wonder, sir, if you could maybe get up and try and walk … one foot in front of the other, like this.’ He mimed the walk across to me, and back, keeping the glasses in place with a long white index finger. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. His coordination wasn’t magnificent.