Chapter 22

"I'll see you later," I call out to my mum as I head towards the back door.

"Nick," she says, and I turn around as she catches up to me. "Good luck, love. I hope it all goes well."

"Thanks Mum." She draws me into a hug. I'm due to catch the bus in five minutes. I'm going to Darcy's and then we're all travelling to the regionals together. I can barely contain my excitement as we've practised so hard for this. I'd taken my clothes to Darcy's last night when we had a final run through of our two dances. A formal suit for the waltz, and for the cha-cha-cha, a black high-necked tunic and trousers. Darcy's is similar; he has a blue pattern running down the front of his tunic, which is continued down the side of my trousers, so they're complementary rather than being the same. It took a long time to choose something that would work. Hours spent sitting side by side on his bed searching online shops. Okay, it might have taken longer due to the amount of kissing and cuddling that went on as well.

I have an exciting piece of news to share with Darcy as well later. I've nearly saved enough money for a fairly decent deposit on a place. It won't be big, and it might be something that'll need doing up, but that would be fun to do.

My mum releases me and I give her a peck on her cheek.

"See you later," I call, as I jump the back steps down onto the yard. I've just enough time to say hello to Gran. She'll be upset if she doesn't get to wish me luck, too.

I take her steps two at a time and burst through the back door, striding through to the front room.

"Gran, I'm off—" I halt on the threshold. My heart stops.

"What the—Gran. Gran!" She's lying on the floor, just in front of her favourite chair. I throw myself down next to her, checking for a pulse. It's still there. My heart restarts with a racing beat. I'm up, pulling my phone out of my pocket, cursing as I fumble at the key-lock pattern.

"Mum, Dad," I holler out the back door towards our house as I dial nine-nine-nine.

My mum pokes her head out of our back door at my shout.

"Gran's had a fall. I'm calling an ambulance," I shout. Half the street can hear me, but I don't care; they'll know soon enough, anyway.

I see her hand fly to her mouth before she disappears inside and I hear her shouting, "Frank," calling my dad.

My call is answered and I go back inside to give the emergency services as much information as possible.

My mum and dad arrive and kneel by her side.

"Mum, Mum, can you hear me?" My mum's voice sounds broken, and I fight back my own tears. Instead, I fetch a blanket. We can't move her, but we're supposed to keep her warm. The lady on the end of the phone is still talking to me. No, I don't know how long she's been like that. My mum looks up, whispering that she'd helped her get up and down the stairs only an hour ago. I relay that information. I can hear sirens in the distance and I unlock the front door, going out to direct them to the house and make it easier for them to enter.

The two paramedics are efficient and we draw back as a unit, watching them check a few vitals before loading her onto a stretcher.

I barely hear my dad ask which hospital they're taking her to. We lock up and pile into his van to follow the ambulance. It's only then that awareness of the dance competition comes back to me.

I pull out my phone and text Darcy. We aren't due to dance until this afternoon, so I tell him what's happened and that I'll catch the bus straight to the competition as soon as I know my gran's going to be alright. His answer, of course, is sweet and concerned, and allows me a small smile and respite from my worries. The journey feels like it takes forever and I find it hard to keep still in the van. I grab my mum's hand and she gives me a sad smile as she dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

"Will you stop pacing, love?" My mum's voice is strained and weary. I sigh, plonking myself down into the plastic chair next to her. It feels like we've been sitting in the corridor for hours. Dad has gone to fetch us more tea, as that seems to be the only thing keeping us going right now.

My mum squeezes my knee, trying to give some comfort, but we're all worried. The feeling of being useless and not being able to do anything is unbearable. We've taken it in turns to ask about progress, knowing that they can't tell us anything new and giving us the same answer every time: she's stable, and the doctors are running tests, and we'll be told as soon as there's anything to know. It doesn't stop us from asking, though, as it's the only thing we can do. The patience of the nurses is legendary.

The buzz in my pocket indicates another text from Darcy. The warm glow that he's checking in with me only slightly appeases the gnawing anxiety that if I can't get there in time, I'm letting him down. But I'm not going anywhere until I know Gran is going to be okay.

I pace the corridor again, the last cup of tea a nauseating layer over the impotency of our situation. It's while I'm at the other end of the corridor, giving the notices a tenth reading, that a doctor approaches my parents.

I race back, trying to work out if the expression on her face is an indication of good news, or is delivering bad. I guess after years of a job like this, she's managed to train it into a neutral state for these occasions.

"Mrs Turner is now conscious. She is stable, and there's nothing wrong with her vitals, which is quite extraordinary for her age. She has broken her leg, though. However, it is a clean break, so it will heal in time."

"Can I see her?" I cut in. I need to see with my own eyes that she really is okay.

The doctor gives me an amused smile, the first sign of emotion so far.

"I assume you must be Nicholas? She's been talking non-stop about her grandson since she woke up."

"What can I say? I'm her favourite." I give her my widest smile and she laughs. The relief and joy that Gran is going to be alright begins bursting out of me. The doctor doesn't need to know I'm her only grandchild.

"You can go in." With her head, she indicates towards the room behind her and turns back to talk with my parents.

The room is in semi-darkness, which lowers my mood again. I've always thought low light is bad news, but this might be from watching far too many hospital dramas with Gran. She looks so small in the large bed, not that she was big, anyway. She's always been a vital force in my life. The hospital bed, surrounded by softly beeping machines and her medicine drip, has stripped that away like it's a veneer. I see her fragility for the first time and it breaks my heart.

She looks reduced somewhat, lesser and translucent, and I don't want that. I don't want the cold realisation that she might not always be here. I blink back tears as I watch her quietly. She looks asleep.

Snatches of conversation reach me from the door. "Discharged in a couple of days. We need to think about a care package for her. She won't be mobile for a while. I'll arrange for social services to talk to you."

Then my mum's voice, strong and insistent. She might be quiet, but she's still my gran's daughter. "We take care of our own. We always have."

I can hear the long-practised patience, with a hint of exasperation in the doctor's response, and part of my brain thinks she might not be from Yorkshire herself. "I understand your care, Mrs Richardson, but you really need to consider..."

I tune it all out for now and approach the bed.

I reach for her hand, and while it's still the familiar, warm hand I know, the one that's cupped my cheek a thousand times, it feels smaller now.

Her eyes open, and she fixes me with her blue eyes—my eyes—my favourite colour.

"Nicholas." Her smile is strong at least, and I grin back.

"Thought you were leaving us, did you?" I try to make light of the situation, but her fading smile shows that she, too, has been forced to face her own fragility.

She gives my hand a squeeze and I try again, softer this time

"We were worried about you. What happened?"

"I tripped, that's all. I got up to get a cup of tea and fell. Well, that's all I remember." Then she frowns at me. "Haven't you got a competition? You haven't missed it, have you?" She gives me a stern look. It's one I recognise and seems to dispel some of the shadows of mortality that have been circling us.

"I..." I actually don't know. I haven't thought of the competition once since I entered the room. I've only been concerned about her. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She grips my hand, and this time it's strong.

"I know how much it means to you, dear. You must go. I'm fine. I'm glad for the rest, to be honest." This feisty woman is the Gran I recognise.

My parents enter the room and come over.

"Now, go do your dancing. I want you to come back and tell me you won." It's a dismissal.

I grab my phone and look at the time, I can't hold back a grimace as I quickly calculate if I have time to get from the fourth floor of the hospital and across the vast car park to the main road in seven minutes, which is when the next bus is due.

I can try.

I lean over and give her a kiss on her cheek. "Love you, Gran," I whisper, and receive a twinkling smile in return.

I whirl round and make it to the door, planning to break all the "no running in the hospital" rules.

"Nick." I spin back at the sound of my dad's voice.

The retort that I don't have time dies on my lips as I see he's holding out some keys.

"Take the van son, it'll be quicker."

"But—"

"Your mum and I will be here for a while yet, and we can catch the bus back."

"Thanks Dad." I'm astonished as he pushes the keys into my hand. He gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Go make us proud."

I send a text off to Darcy as I ride the elevator down to the ground floor.

Nick: On my way. Save the last dance for me