The Girl Who Lied(80)

‘What’s on agenda for today? Is that Ducati being collected? I noticed last night the exhaust could do with a polish before we let it go.’

The moment is lost. The conversation doesn’t include me as the cousins discuss the day ahead. Fortunately, one of the other customers calls me over and I leave the Wrights to it.

Some twenty minutes later Joe and Kerry finish their breakfast. Kerry appears at the counter.

He pushes a five-euro note and some coins over towards me

‘We’ll talk later,’ he says.

I slide the money off into my cupped hand. ‘I’m going to the hospital with my mum today. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

‘You know where to find me,’ he says. His face is unsmiling and his voice gives no clue as to his thoughts.

The hospital room doesn’t feel as oppressive as it had when I first arrived back in Ireland. Before, I hated coming here to visit. I hated having to look at Dad and feel nothing for him. I hated only feeling for Mum and what it was doing to her.

Today, I don’t feel any of that hate. Dad’s eyes are closed and he breathes steadily of his own accord.

‘He’s been breathing very well on his own,’ says the doctor, reading from the clipboard of notes. ‘The scan we did yesterday reveals that the swelling has gone down on his brain, so it is all looking good to begin to wake him.’

‘How exactly will you do that?’ I ask.

‘We use medication, an antidote to the anaesthetic we used to sedate him. I’ve attached an I/V line to drip through the medication,’ says the doctor. ‘Now, his legs and arms have been twitching a bit too, which is a good sign that he’s ready to wake up, but please don’t expect anything to happen quickly. It can take around six hours before the patient responds.’

Since arriving at the hospital, when the nurse gave us the heads-up that today is the day, Mum has lapsed into a silence.

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ I say, when I realise Mum isn’t going to say anything.

‘I’ll come back in about ten minutes once we have the medication sorted out,’ says the doctor as he leaves the room.

I turn to Mum. ‘Are you okay?’

Mum closes her eyes and nods. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m a little nervous, if I’m honest.’

‘It will be okay,’ I say, guiding her to the bedside chair. ‘The doctors know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t be trying to wake Dad if they didn’t think it was the right thing to do.’

‘I know.’

‘Let’s try and be upbeat about this,’ I say, feeling concern and frustration at the same time. ‘It will help Dad if we’re positive. It’s all good.’

Mum looks at me.

‘Is it?’ she says. ‘Is it all good?’

‘Yes, it is.’ I pull the other plastic chair round so I can sit next to her. ‘I know things have been difficult between myself and Dad, and for good reason, but things have changed.’ I reach over to the bed and place my hand on top of Dad’s. I hesitate for only a moment before curling my fingers. ‘Sometimes good things come out of bad things.’

‘And sometimes, bad from good,’ says Mum.

I look at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘A mother’s love knows no bounds,’ she says. She looks out of the window. ‘Everything I have ever done, or not done, has been for many reasons, but at the heart of it all, the underlying reason has always been because I love you and Fiona more than anything or anyone in the world. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Mum, of course I do,’ I say. I don’t understand why she’s telling me this, but it seems important to her and it seems equally important that I understand. A feeling of unease weaves its way around me. ‘Mum… has something happened?’

Mum blinks hard and gives the faintest of smiles.

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’ She brushes a curl back from my eyes. ‘That’s my job.’

I go to protest, but the doctor comes back into the room, accompanied by a nurse. The moment to question Mum is lost and although I try to focus on what the doctor is saying and doing, my concentration keeps stalling. All I can think about is what Mum said. And bad from good. The unease grows tighter with every thought.





Chapter 28


‘That’s what I like to see, you two hard at work,’ Bex’s voice called out. Kerry looked up and smiled as she entered the workshop. As usual, she was carrying Breeze in a baby sling, one hand protectively around the bundle, her other hand holding Storm’s. He was straining to free himself like a puppy on a lead.

‘Hey,’ called Kerry.