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33. Holly, Melbourne

Jetlag drags at my body as I walk the brightly lit corridors of the Royal Melbourne Hospital stroke unit, searching for Mum's ward. When I find it, she's asleep, frail and delicate, a gentle rise and fall of her chest. I take the seat by the bed and pick up her hand. Her wedding ring is looser than it was when I left.

‘Hi, Mum.'

Her eyelids slowly open and she blinks at me.

‘It's Holly. I'm here.'

Her brows furrows, but then recognition fills her eyes. She holds her hand up to my face. ‘Lovely girl,' she says, her voice hoarse. She glances around and licks her lips.

‘Are you thirsty?' I pour her a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table.

She sits up and takes a few sips. ‘That's better.' She places the glass on the tray table and opens her arms for me.

My body relaxes in her embrace. ‘I missed you.'

‘It hasn't been that long since I've seen you, has it?' she says.

I take a seat. ‘Maybe that's because we've had lots of video calls.'

‘Yes, but at the care home … didn't I see you in person…' She shakes her head, forehead crinkling.

I don't want her distressed, so I go along with it. ‘I was there two weeks ago – not long at all.'

‘I thought so,' she says, lying back against the pillow.

‘I went to Berlin. But I'm home now.'

Her eyes widen. ‘Berlin?'

I'm about to remind her of the conversations we had when I was there, but it's pointless, so I just nod. ‘Uh-huh. For a holiday.'

Mum's eyes flick behind me, and I spin to see Adam. He breaks into a wide grin. ‘Hey, you.'

I jump up and rush to him. The stress of the past few days hits me, and I let out a small sob against his chest. ‘Missed you.'

‘Missed you, too.' He steps back and holds me at arm's length. ‘You were only gone a couple of weeks. Why the tears?'

I wipe my cheeks. ‘Long story. I'll tell you later.'

He gives me a bemused look and walks around to the other side of the bed, giving Mum's shin a light pat. ‘Hi, Mum.'

She smiles at him and opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes.

‘It's Adam,' he says. ‘Your son.'

She tsks. ‘I know who you are.'

‘Sorry.' He bends down to kiss her cheek before pulling up a chair. ‘How was the flight?' he asks me. ‘You must be tired.'

‘Flight was long, and I barely slept, so yeah, exhausted.' I glance at Mum, who's shifted lower in the bed and closed her eyes. ‘Any updates on what's happening?' I whisper to Adam.

He keeps his voice low. ‘Yeah. Apparently it was a transient ischaemic attack – a ministroke. It has similar symptoms to a regular stroke, which is why the care home called an ambulance straight away. The doctor says the effects usually aren't as major, but they need to monitor her for a few days. They did an MRI today but no results yet.' He looks at Mum. ‘She seems okay. She's eating. Her memory doesn't appear any worse. Says she has some aches and pains, but that's about it.'

‘I can hear you,' Mum says, opening one eyelid.

Adam laughs. ‘I know you can, Mum. I'm just giving Holly an update.'

‘So if everything is okay after a couple of days, she can be discharged?' I ask.

He nods. ‘Yep, as long as the MRI is okay.'

I fall back against the chair with a relieved sigh.

‘Sorry you rushed back,' Adam says. ‘I had no idea what was going on when the care home called me.'

‘It's fine.' I try not to let the heartache of what happened show. ‘I didn't want to be so far away with Mum in hospital.' Keen to change tack, I pick up a novel on the bed table, flipping it over to read the back cover blurb. ‘You bring this?'

‘Meg did.'

‘You love a British crime, Mum,' I say.

She opens her eyes. ‘I certainly do, and now I'm forgetting things, I can watch and read the same ones over and over.'

I smile. ‘Silver linings.'

Adam stands. ‘I'll go grab us a cup of coffee, hey?'

‘That sounds great, thank you,' I say. ‘I'll need some sugar in mine.'

‘I'll get you a nice cup of strong tea, Mum,' he says.

He leaves the room, and I open the book to where it's been bookmarked with a scrap of paper. ‘Want me to read you some of this story, Mum?'

‘Lovely,' she says, closing her eyes again.

Just as I begin to read, my phone pings in my bag. I reach for it expecting a text from Nat, and my heart jumps when it's from Casey. She hasn't contacted me since she left the flat on Saturday night. I kept my phone close all night, thinking she'd keep trying, that she'd turn up at Heathrow, that she'd fight harder for me.

With a shaky hand, I open the message.

I hope you're home safely and your mum is okay. Haven't stopped thinking about you.

I read the message again, aloud this time, and say, ‘What do you think about that, Mum?'

Mum's eyes twitch under the thin skin of her lids, already asleep.

My finger hovers over the screen, itching to reply, but I stop myself. My head is foggy with jetlag; I'm not of sound mind. I switch off my phone, return to the book and focus on the reason I came home.

Three days later, I'm back at the hospital.

Apart from a solid twelve-hour sleep on the night of my return, the time has been filled with hospital visits, sorting out what to do with Mum's house now that the tenants have left, and ferrying my nephews to and from school. Tom has messaged, way too enthusiastic about me being back in the country. Not that I told him I was home. Presumably he found out through Nat's husband.

The jetlag has finally lifted, but my heartache hasn't. If anything, it's worse. As I exit the lift on Mum's ward, I stare at the second message Casey has sent me since I've been home and a confusing mix of longing, hurt and anger lodges in my chest.

I know you don't want to hear from me and you have more important things going on, but I just want you to know you're on my mind and I hope your mum is doing okay.

Part of me, a very large part, wants to call her, to tell her that I miss her, and that I'm desperate for her support. But then I see Eva perched on that bar stool with rage in her eyes, the word ‘fiancée' echoing in my ears, Casey's guilt-ridden face, and my heart hardens. As I walk into Mum's room, I type out a perfunctory message.

Home okay. Mum's still in hospital. Thanks for checking.

What else is there to say?

Mum's eyes open as I sit by her bed. ‘Hi, Mum.'

She blinks slowly before her pale eyes scan the room then focus on me.

‘How're you feeling?' I ask.

‘A little fuzzy.' She rubs her chest. ‘Chest feels a bit tight.'

‘Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the doctor?'

She shakes her head. ‘No, it's probably just a cough coming on.'

‘You don't want to get a cold. I can get the nurse.'

She pats my hand. ‘It's fine … erm…'

I give her a few seconds, but when nothing comes, I say, ‘Holly.'

She frowns. ‘Holly. I do remember you; I just can't get names sometimes.'

‘It's okay, Mum.'

The nurse who's been on duty the past few days comes in and greets me with a warm smile. ‘Hi there, Holly.' He moves to the monitor on the other side of Mum's bed.

‘Any word on the MRI results?' I ask him.

‘Nothing yet, but they can take a few days. Hopefully later today.' He finishes what he needs to do and starts for the doorway. ‘I'll be back a bit later with your lunch, Elaine.'

She grunts as he leaves the room. ‘He says that like it's something to look forward to.'

I chuckle. ‘I can get you something downstairs if it's that bad.'

She waves her hand. ‘I'm just having a moan. Besides, I should be out of here once that MRI is back. They don't seem overly concerned about me.'

‘That's true. Hopefully tomorrow.' I take a seat. ‘Would you like to see some photos from my trip?' I wanted to show her yesterday, but the doctors took her away for more tests and I didn't get the chance.

Her eyebrows pull together. ‘Your trip? Have you been somewhere?'

I nod. ‘I went overseas. To Berlin and London.'

Her face brightens. ‘London? And you have photos?'

‘Yep.' I pull out my phone and open the photo app, my pulse quickening as I land on the photo of Casey and me on Saturday afternoon in Berlin. ‘You remember Casey?' I say. ‘The one from London I told you about?'

Mum shakes her head.

‘Well, we found each other. I thought it was fate, until she broke my heart again.' My voice wobbles. ‘How could she do that to me?'

Mum shuffles up the bed and offers me her hand. ‘Oh, my lovely girl, I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't like it when you're upset.'

I run my thumb across the delicate skin over her knuckles. ‘You always told me to aim for the best, not to settle. To be with someone who makes my soul sing, like you and Dad. I've always searched for that. I thought I finally found it.' A tear falls onto our linked hands. ‘But Casey had that with someone else at the same time.' Mum watches me as I wipe my face. ‘Sorry. Seeing the photos is hard. We need to focus on you, not me.'

‘No, you don't need to focus on me. That's why I'm here, so the hospital can look after me.'

I blow my nose. ‘Thanks, Mum.' I find the London photos and pass her my phone. ‘I took some of Westminster Abbey for you.'

‘Oh,' she breathes, staring at my phone. ‘So beautiful. London is so clear in my mind. Why is that? Why can't I remember your name or what you said ten minutes ago, but I remember something from so long ago?'

My heart aches for her. ‘That's just your condition, Mum.'

She rubs her chest again and passes my phone back.

‘Are you sure you don't want me to get the doctor?'

‘No, don't bother them. It's nothing,' she says.

There's a rattle by the door as the nurse from earlier takes a food tray from the trolley and brings it into the room. ‘Here you go, Elaine.' He places her lunch down and helps Mum to sit up.

‘Maybe I'll go and get something to eat, too,' I say, leaning down to kiss her forehead. ‘I'll be back soon. I love you.'

‘Love you too.' She gives me a quick smile before she focuses on the tray of sandwiches in front of her.

I catch the nurse as he's heading back to the trolley to fetch Mum a cup of tea. ‘Mum says her chest feels a bit tight. She said it's probably a cough, but I thought I should mention it. She looked like she was in a bit of pain.'

Concern fills his eyes. ‘Right. Okay. I'll let the doctor know right away.'

‘Thanks.'

I head downstairs to the hospital café, grab a chicken salad sandwich and a coffee, then head outside to sit in the spring sunshine. I take a bite and open Instagram, automatically going to Casey's profile. The last photo is still of her and Jaz on a night out the week before we met in Berlin. I click on the list of people who've liked it and scroll, looking for a name. And there it is – Eva Rossi. I've told myself I'm not interested in what she's about, but I can't shift her and Casey's relationship from my mind.

I click Eva's profile, my eyes widening when I see her follower count. Her latest post is from yesterday – a reel talking about evening eye make-up and fluttering her lids to show off a glittery golden olive eyeshadow. I scroll her timeline and find a post from the weekend Casey and I were in Berlin – it's Eva with the wedding planner. What were Casey and I doing at that very moment? My face warms as I picture us in her gallery, looking at a painting of a naked woman, having sex while her fiancée was in another country planning a wedding.

I grunt my disgust, toss my sandwich in the bin and head back into the hospital.

When I step out of the elevator, nurses rush past me, shouting medical terms to one another. I head to Mum's ward, but a nurse stops me.

‘Holly, I'm sorry, but you can't go in,' she says.

‘Why not? Has something happened?'

‘The doctor's with your mum,' the nurse says. ‘We'll need you to wait out here.'

My pulse spikes. ‘Mum said her chest was tight. Is that it?'

‘We'll be with you soon,' she says, her expression grave, then disappears into Mum's room.

I stand in the middle of the corridor helplessly staring at the closed door, my vision growing blurry. A hand grips my elbow and guides me to a waiting lounge, where a staff member sits me down and makes me tea.

‘Holly,' she says, placing a mug in front of me on the coffee table. ‘Do you want to call your brother?'

I stare at her while I process the question and then grab my phone, my fingers trembling as I hit Adam's number.

‘Hey, Hols. What's up?' Adam's voice is raised over construction in the background.

‘It's Mum.'

‘Hang on…' The background noise becomes muted. ‘Mum, did you say?'

‘Something's happened,' I say in a panicked voice. ‘They're in her room and they won't let me in.' My eyes fill. ‘She was fine, Adam. I just went to get some lunch and when I came back everything had changed.'

‘You're still at the hospital?'

‘Yes.'

‘On my way.'

He hangs up and I'm alone again. I go back out into the corridor, but the door to Mum's room is still closed. I press my ear against it, try to listen, but the same nurse catches me and leads me back to the waiting room.

‘The doctor will come and speak to you as soon as he can,' she says.

I stare out the window at the trams trundling along, the cars passing, early afternoon dog walkers. It's not fair that time continues for them when it's stopped for me.

Adam arrives, dusty from work, and I launch myself at him. ‘I won't be able to pick up the kids from school,' I sob into his chest.

‘Don't be silly. I've called Meg. She'll deal with it.' He sits and pulls me down beside him. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.'

When I'm finished, he says, ‘Well, it doesn't mean it's anything bad. It might just be another one of those TIA things. People have ministrokes in a row sometimes, don't they? That happens, right?' There's a panicked edge to his voice.

‘I don't know,' I say softly.

We sit in silence as time stretches until eventually, a tall, thin man with a thick head of grey hair walks in and we both jump up.

‘Holly and Adam?' He gestures to the couch. ‘Please, take a seat.'

We exchange a worried glance and sit. He closes the door and drags a chair closer to us. ‘I'm Dr Wren.' He looks down at the carpet and takes a deep breath before he meets our eyes, and I see it – the anguish of having to deliver bad news. It's in the heaviness of his expression, the lines in his forehead, the downward pull of his mouth, and before he's even spoken my hand is over my mouth and I'm screwing my eyes shut to make this moment go away. Adam slips his arm around me.

‘Your mother had a heart attack,' Dr Wren says.

Adam's fingers dig into my shoulder.

‘I'm so sorry. We tried everything to revive her.'

I open my eyes to look at the doctor. ‘But she was okay.' I turn to Adam. ‘She was okay.'

Tears streak his dusty cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I pull him to me and hold him tight as he sobs.

I stare at the doctor, my own tears falling. ‘She was okay,' I whisper.

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