‘Do you feel as if you have a temperature? Hot and cold shivers?’
Randall nodded again.
‘Pain anywhere but in your ear?’
He shrugged, then shook his head and tried to say something that didn’t come out properly.
Georgine began to run through possibilities. ‘Throat?’
‘Bit.’
‘Head?’
He nodded. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wing of his chair.
Georgine rose, pulling off her coat and dropping it on a chair. She glanced at her sister. ‘What made you think he was having a stroke?’
Blair looked sheepish. ‘He was difficult to rouse and felt clammy.’
‘But no worsening of the damage to his left side? Was he confused? Having more trouble with his speech than usual?’
‘Definitely confused.’ Blair lifted her chin.
‘Bear oke nee uck,’ Randall put in.
‘Blair woke you up?’ Georgine asked, to clarify. ‘Is that why you were confused?’ When Randall nodded, she turned back to Blair. ‘Did you call the ambulance? Or pull one of the red cords?’
Blair looked uncomfortable. ‘No. He – I realised he wasn’t as bad as I first thought, once he came round a bit. But he has a headache.’
‘Bit,’ Randall put in.
‘Right.’ Georgine frowned down at Randall, who definitely looked under the weather. ‘What do you think, Dad? Do you think you might have had another stroke? Even a minor one?’
Randall shook his head, but winced again and stopped. It didn’t seem anything like the crippling pain in his head that had accompanied his strokes, but she was unwilling to put him in any danger. ‘I think I ought to ring the NHS helpline for advice.’
Randall shrugged.
Georgine looked at Blair. Blair shrugged too, her eyes on Randall.
As usual, it was left to Georgine to make the decisions. She pulled out her phone then went through the protracted procedure of logging her request and waiting for a return call. When it came, it was from a GP. Georgine explained, being clear about her father’s communication limitations. Blair had got up to busy herself in the kitchenette making a hot drink. She answered when Georgine passed on questions but made no move to take the phone and speak to the GP herself.
Eventually, it was decided that a GP would come out to visit Randall, providing a prescription if one was needed.
Randall dozed through most of the process, his breathing noisier than usual. Georgine got him a rug for his legs and he alternated between huddling beneath it or pushing it off in a sweat.
Georgine and Blair spoke to each only as necessary. Randall roused enough to point his finger between the two of them and rasp, ‘Ot’s up?’
Georgine glanced at Blair. Neither of them would want to give Randall stress by telling him about the bailiffs. Though his memory had been affected to some extent by his strokes, she was pretty certain he had sufficient recall of his own insolvency nightmare to be upset. She summoned up a smile. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just get you better.’
She felt Blair relax from right across the room.
Later in the evening, the GP arrived: Dr Bauer, a drawn and harassed-looking man in a checked jacket, carrying a doctor’s bag that looked as if it had seen as much service as he had. By then it was past Randall’s usual bedtime. He was tired and tetchy and disinclined to make the massive effort needed to communicate.
Georgine did her best and Blair chimed in to explain that Randall had been difficult to rouse.
‘Understandable with a severe ear infection,’ Dr Bauer observed. And added, ‘Taking the “better safe than sorry” route given your dad’s medical history is no bad thing, I suppose.’ The ‘I suppose’ hinted that Dr Bauer thought the call could have waited until morning. Once he’d written a prescription, he didn’t linger.
As the door closed behind him, Georgine glanced at her sister. ‘The prescription needs taking to the nearest out-of-hours pharmacy and Dad could probably use a hand to get to bed tonight. Which do you take?’
‘I’ll do the prescription.’ But then Blair hesitated, withdrawing her hand before actually taking the piece of paper from Georgine’s hand. ‘Will you be here when I get back?’
‘Yes. But if I’d gone home you’d be capable of getting Dad a drink of water and seeing he took the first pill, wouldn’t you?’ Georgine began to feel exasperated.
Blair dropped her gaze. ‘Yes,’ she muttered, taking out her phone to check which pharmacy was on duty in Bettsbrough.
Randall was capable of putting himself to bed, albeit taking his time over washing and undressing, so Georgine really only had to check that he had everything he wanted and text the scheme manager to tell her Randall was under the weather. When Blair returned with the pills Randall took one and firmly closed his eyes. ‘Night.’
Georgine was happy to take the hint, yawning as she and Blair left the flat, so tired that she even waited for the lift instead of taking the stairs.
It was in the lift that Blair said tentatively, ‘Are we talking?’
‘Yes,’ Georgine said tiredly. ‘But I can’t wait to get in bed, and for this day to be over.’
‘Am I still living with you?’ Blair’s voice thickened.
Georgine realised having her house to herself again would now feel slightly odd. ‘Of course. Until you can get yourself sorted.’
The lift doors sighed open and both women pulled their coats close around themselves as they crossed to the outer door. The snow had stopped and Jack Frost had followed along to cast his glittering mantle over the world.
Shivering, Georgine made straight for her car. Blair’s voice floated after her. ‘So why have you locked me out?’ She sounded hurt and confused.
‘Locked you out?’ Georgine stopped, car key in hand. It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. ‘Do you mean the new locks?’ It seemed much longer ago than this morning that the locksmith had visited. ‘I told you both locks were being changed to stop Aidan—’
‘I couldn’t get in when I went back,’ Blair said in the same hurt tone.
Georgine gazed at her little sister, the pretty face, the defensive expression. ‘The new keys are on the dining table. I suppose I forgot to tell you when I left … after everything that had happened.’ Exasperation warred with pity and guilt inside her as things began to click into place. Blair must have gone home after the confrontation at Acting Instrumental, found she couldn’t get in so had gone to Randall’s flat. Then she’d seized on his being unwell as a reason to get Georgine there. She sighed, turning back to look Blair in the eye. ‘Sorry. I did accidentally lock you out. I’ll let you in now and you can help yourself to new keys.’
With effort, she turned away from her car and crossed to give Blair a hug. ‘Let’s go home. I’m trashed.’
‘OK,’ murmured Blair, looking a bit happier.
When they’d finally made it home and Georgine had demonstrated how the new locks worked, glad to close her bedroom door and get into her night things, she fell into bed. She switched off the light and pulled the duvet up beneath her chin. Ahhhhh …
Half an hour later, she was still wide awake.
First, she wondered whether she should have slept in an armchair in Randall’s flat in case he needed her.
Then, after realising that ship had sailed unless she wanted to wake her dad by returning, she tried to work out how close to the limit her credit card would be after paying the locksmith this morning. The bill had been over £130. That kind of unforeseen expense usually left a hole that was hard to fill. The rent from Blair had been helpful, but her supermarket bills had pretty much doubled and there were bound to be higher electricity and gas bills on the way.
Her heart missed a beat. In all the upset, she hadn’t asked Blair where she’d got the money to satisfy her debt and get rid of the bailiffs. She’d have to talk to her sister in case there were other debts that might bring bai
liffs to her door. She hoped she could find a way to do it that wouldn’t result in a repeat of this evening’s atmosphere.
She turned over, trying to find that magic spot that would allow her body to relax and her dreams to carry her off. Instead, she saw a vision of Joe’s expression when she’d been so lame as to introduce the ‘what is this leading to?’ conversation right when she had. For all she knew, he’d had no thoughts of anything more meaningful than a bit of afternoon delight.
Unaccountably, that thought made her feel particularly low.
Impatiently, she sat up and reached for her laptop. There was nothing she could do about Randall, Blair or Joe but she could look at her bank balance and work out how much she could pay off her credit card when it came due. She supposed she couldn’t now get Blair to weigh in with a few quid for Christmas dinner, but maybe they could cook it together in their dad’s flat. Even invite one or two of his neighbours – he often played cards with his friend Sol in the afternoons.
They could …
She stopped. Blinked. Gazed in shock at her bank balance.
That couldn’t be right! Her eyes dropped automatically to the transactions itemised in neat rows below.
There was a £5010.32 credit from Patricia France.
Her eyes almost popped from her head. Her grandmother often put money in her account for birthday and Christmas presents but that was usually the equivalent of a hundred dollars. Georgine didn’t think she’d had this much money in an account in her life. Tossing aside her duvet she flung open her door but when she saw no light around Blair’s door she retreated under the duvet again. Her clock told her it was midnight; only early evening in Georgia.
She grabbed her phone and called Grandma Patty.
‘Well, hello, dear,’ Grandma Patty’s voice said almost straight away. She sounded as if she was already smiling.
‘There’s over five thousand pounds in my bank account, Grandma. From you.’
‘Well, good. I would’ve hated for it to get lost in space, or whatever happens to missing electronic transactions.’ Grandma Patty gave a pleased laugh.
Georgine wished they’d Skyped so she could see her grandmother’s face. ‘But why?’
‘Well, now.’ A rustle came down the line as if Grandma Patty was getting herself comfortable. ‘I went to this talk at my seniors club. It was called “giving with a warm hand”. It made a lot of sense to me.’
Georgine floundered. ‘Not to me. What does it mean?’
‘It’s a little more than I first meant to give, but when Blair rang me today—’
Georgine swore.
‘I’m not sure that’s a word you ought to say in the hearing of your grandmother, dear,’ Grandma Patty protested. Then her voice softened. ‘OK, before you go rushing off to pull Blair’s pigtails, let me tell you the whole tale. “Giving with a warm hand” means passing some of your money to your dear ones while you’re still alive, rather than making them hang on until you’ve passed. You get the pleasure of seeing them using it. I can give you fifteen thousand dollars a year without incurring gift tax, you know.’ Grandma Patty paused as if expecting Georgine to say something congratulatory. When Georgine didn’t take the opportunity, she continued. ‘So when Blair called me today to ask for a loan I realised she definitely could use help. I know you’re always worried about money too, so I decided to give you each seven thousand dollars. How much did you say that came to in your money, dear?’
‘£5010.32,’ said Georgine faintly.
‘And can you use it?’
‘Of course I can use it—’
‘Then use it, dear!’ Grandma Patty’s voice became stern. ‘Georgine, I want you to have it. I want you and Blair not to have to scrimp. My, you’re young to have the worries you’ve had! Grandpa Earl and I weren’t in a position to help Randall when he had all his trouble because Randall was so positive that if we sent money it would go to his creditors instead of to him. When Grandpa died in 2010 I received a lump sum and a portion of his pension, so I’m well provided for. After I’d been to that talk I went and saw my accountant, taking along a lot of bonds and whatnot that Grandpa had bought over time. I guess I was told they were valuable when Grandpa died, but I was too upset to think straight. Now they’ve been sold and I was shocked at the size of the bottom line, I can tell you!’
Georgine had no idea what to say.
Grandma Patty’s voice became gentle, coaxing. ‘You have to understand that I’ve also given seven thousand dollars to each of my other grandchildren, your American cousins. And I will be upset if I hear any Tom-fool refusals from any one of you. You won’t spoil my pleasure, will you? I’ve had a windfall, and now I want to share it.’
‘Oh,’ said Georgine, inadequately. She had to swallow a gigantic lump in her throat. ‘Thank you so much, Grandma. This will make a huge difference to me.’ She could vanquish all the utility bills Aidan had stuck her with for a start. Be more relaxed about Christmas. Keep the rest for a rainy day, or think about changing her car.
They talked for a little longer, Grandma Patty asking for the usual update on Randall. ‘My poor dear boy,’ she sighed on hearing of her son’s illness. ‘Please, Georgine, will you try and bring him here at spring break? I’ll fund the airline tickets.’
As her grandmother sounded so close to tears, Georgine promised to check with his doctors. ‘If they’re not worried then we’ll come.’ With the utility bills paid off and Grandma Patty providing air tickets, she wouldn’t have to get casual work over the holidays.
When she eventually ended the call and lay down again she was able to drift off straight away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wednesday and Thursday vanished quicker than Christmas dinner set before a hungry family.
Tutors strove to keep students on track. Rehearsals and the Christmas party planned for Friday evening seemed the sole topics of conversation amongst Level 3 students. Although she saw Joe at rehearsal or in meetings, neither of them had mentioned their hot interlude, although Georgine sometimes thought the atmosphere would crackle if they became any more aware of one another. He’d given a rueful smile when he heard Randall’s diagnosis and murmured, ‘Glad it was nothing worse.’
Georgine cooked Randall’s dinner on Wednesday evening. His antibiotics were having the desired results and he was already almost back to normal. Blair worked both of her jobs, day and evening, without complaint, though Georgine had half expected her to throw in the evening job now she’d received money from Grandma Patty. Blair, however, said she was trying to turn over a new leaf. Georgine had given her a huge hug and they’d put the bailiff episode behind them.
Relieved of financial worries, Georgine felt full of energy. The last couple of weeks before a show evaporated if you didn’t keep up the enthusiasm and she fairly buzzed with it at Thursday’s four o’clock production meeting.
‘On the twelfth of December, less than a week away, we have the full run-through in the studio theatre. That’s costumes, props, the lot. Sir John Browne Academy’s last event is on the fourteenth so we’ll get in to the Raised Curtain on the weekend of the fifteenth and sixteenth. Monday the seventeenth is dress and tech rehearsal.’
‘And the last day of term,’ Errol stuck in. ‘It’s a crap day for a dress rehearsal. The students will try to sneak off to the pub.’
Georgine fixed him with her hardest stare. ‘We agreed that a Monday dress rehearsal for a Tuesday first night was the only sensible way to go. It gives non-tech crew students the weekend to relax and recharge, even if we staff are running around like silly buggers. With a show every evening from the eighteenth to the twenty-first, matinee and final show on the twenty-second, situating the dress rehearsal on Monday is vital. They won’t hit the pub if they want to pass this module of their qualification.’ She let her voice soften. ‘Come on, Errol, you’ve done this often enough to know how to motivate your students.’
‘They can rein themselves in until the after-show party on the final nigh
t,’ Oggie added soothingly.
Georgine made a face of mock horror. ‘We have to do the get-out first, because there’s a carol concert at the venue the next day.’
Errol groaned and slapped down his pen as if Georgine had just confirmed his worst suspicions rather than simply mentioning something they all knew already. Georgine let it pass. Everybody reacted to stress in different ways.
The meeting wound up as soon as they’d agreed to concentrate efforts over the next few days on giving every scene at least one rehearsal. Georgine had emailed schedules already. ‘And I’ll be here at the weekend finalising props and costumes. Thank goodness we have all human characters in this show – no elves or Santas.’
‘I’ll be around at the weekend,’ said Joe casually. ‘Need a hand?’
‘Yes, please, especially if you’re any good at sticking sequins on with fabric glue,’ Georgine said promptly. Her heart hopped as she remembered last time they’d been alone together. She hoped nobody would notice if her cheeks had gone pink.
‘I may need training,’ Joe joked. The smile in his eyes made Georgine suspect his mind had travelled in the same direction as hers.
Oggie took Joe off somewhere as the rest were filing out. Georgine crammed the production file and her laptop into her bag, slid into her coat and scarf and set off for home, trying to blow smoke rings with her breath in the frosty air and enjoying the memory of paying in full every single household bill she’d hitherto been so painfully catching up on.
Grandma Patty’s money making her feel rich, and Thursday being the night the shops stayed open late in Bettsbrough in the run up to the festive season, she was soon changed out of her work clothes and in her car heading for town to do some Christmas shopping.
Almost all the shops had stayed open. The local Lions Club was towing a ho-ho-hoing Santa around on a sleigh (with wheels) collecting for presents for local children in bad situations. Georgine, with the memory of Joe confessing to stealing food fresh in her mind, gave a fiver.
Lights of all colours criss-crossed above the pedestrian area and the Salvation Army choir belted out ‘Good King Wenceslas’ and ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ in the area facing the doors to the shopping mall. Georgine bought a cup of coffee and a hot turkey roll from a nearby stand and enjoyed both as she listened to the harmonies. They were a good choir and their voices seemed to imbue the air around them with Christmas spirit. When they began on ‘Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ children tugged on the hands they held to get their parents to stop and listen too.
A Christmas Gift Page 21