Darcy lowers the cup with steam still swirling out the top away from her lips, and looks at me as if I’m babbling nonsense.
‘I know what you must be thinking,’ I say, ‘but I haven’t been his daughter in a long time. And he’s certainly no father. I said goodbye a long time ago.’
‘But his funeral. Surely—’
I cut across her, my voice shriller and more frustrated than I intend it to be. ‘It’s just business. I will honour his legacy and see through his investments as planned. Anything more, I can’t be a part of. And that includes the man’s funeral. Especially his funeral.’
A tear trickles down Darcy’s pale cheek as she softly whispers, ‘But he has no one.’
‘He has Luke,’ I say, and I hope I don’t sound bitter. ‘And all his staff.’
Darcy nods.
‘And you have me,’ I say.
She dries her eyes and looks at me. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
‘I mean it,’ I say. ‘Everything is going to change from this point, Darcy. Just you wait and see.’
Fresh tears trickle down Darcy’s cheeks. Heavier, fatter tears, the tears of relief, and she sobs. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much. I wasn’t sure . . . We weren’t sure . . .’ Darcy runs a shaking hand through her hair and catches her breath. ‘Luke and I didn’t know if the investment would still go ahead. Under the circumstances.’
I smile.
‘This really means so much to us. Thank you.’
My smile grows wider. ‘I know.’
‘I can’t wait for Luke to hear the good news.’ Darcy’s pale skin and sunken eyes contradict her excitement. ‘You must stay and tell him yourself.’
‘Oh, I really don’t think—’
Suddenly Darcy begins shaking. Her eyes roll and she tumbles off the chair, her head hitting the ground with a loud thud before I have time to catch her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
DARCY
Wednesday 9 September 1998
The school infirmary is depressing, especially compared to the rest of the elegant building. There are two beds, pushed up against opposing walls and with mismatched duvets. One floral. One striped. I’m lying on the striped bed and it smells funny. Like antibacterial spray and lemons. The walls are a bright orange and the paint is flaking away in patches where the wall joins the ceiling. There’s nothing particularly medical about the room. It could easily be a badly decorated bedroom, or a spare room in an old house. There isn’t a nurse or anything, but one of the teachers asks for a volunteer to sit with me. Tina seemed eager to oblige. Although I don’t know why. We barely know each other and the conversation is so awkward. I’d much rather just be alone and actually get some rest. One of the younger teachers ducks her head around the door every now and then and asks, ‘Are you all right?’
Tina answers for me. ‘She’s fine, miss,’ she says, placing the back of her hand against my forehead to check for a fever. It’s super weird and I hope Tina notices me cringe so she won’t do it again.
‘All right. Try to get some rest. I’ll check on you again in a little while.’
When the teacher leaves, Tina hops on to the edge of my bed, bouncing on it. I move over and she smiles, probably thinking I’m making room for her, and I guess I am. But I’m also making room so we’re not touching.
‘Want one?’ Tina asks, pulling out a bag of Skittles she had hidden up her sleeve. She opens it and shoves the bag towards me, shaking it.
I really don’t feel like eating but I reach into the bag and pull out a green one. ‘Thanks.’
Tina tosses a handful of multi-coloured Skittles into her mouth and between chews, she says, ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. I like Skittles,’ I say.
Tina laughs. ‘You’re so funny. I meant chatting is good.’
‘Oh.’
‘But, I love Skittles too,’ she says. ‘Yellow is my favourite.’
I hate the yellow ones, I think. But I don’t say anything.
‘We like lots of the same things,’ Tina says.
I wonder how Tina could possibly know that, but I don’t ask. My head is pounding and I think I might actually have a fever.
Tina shuffles back to sit more comfortably. Her back is against the headboard and only her shoes drape over the edge of the bed. I hope a teacher comes back soon. Tina is scrunching up the empty pack of Skittles when the principal knocks gently on the already-open door and comes into the room.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asks.
Tina hops off the bed and I wonder if she’s embarrassed.
‘I’m okay,’ I say.
He tilts his head and looks at me with round eyes that say, I don’t believe you. And he’d be right. I’m not fine at all. I feel as if I’ve been hit in the back of the head with something hard, and the pulsing inside my skull makes me feel as if my brain might explode.
‘You hit the canteen floor with quite a bang,’ Principal McEvoy tells me. ‘Gave your head a right knock, so you did.’
I blush as the memory of lunchtime plays over in my mind. I’d just had a great chat with the chef about introducing a veggie option. He even asked if he could use one of my dad’s recipes. He said he’d have to clear it with the principal and probably the board and it could take a few weeks, so I’d have to make do with meat in the meantime. I didn’t want to argue when he’d been so understanding, so I took a plate of lamb stew and looked around for somewhere to sit. I was so relieved when Luke waved to me and beckoned to me to join his table. I walked through the canteen with a huge smile on my face, but I knew the eyes of some of the girls were burning into me. But at that moment I felt so special, I didn’t really care.
I joined Luke and his friends. They all seemed really nice and made me feel very welcome. I couldn’t bring myself to eat the meat on my plate and the vegetables were swimming in meat gravy, so even though I was starving I couldn’t touch them. Nonetheless I was enjoying chatting until I suddenly became horribly dizzy and weak. My palms were sweating, and beads of perspiration gathered on my hairline and trickled down my forehead and into my eyes. I think someone asked me if I was okay. It was hard to tell because of the loud ringing that had started in my ears.
And the next thing I remembered was the orange walls and ugly duvets of sick bay. I don’t know how I got here. But I can only imagine the whole school is laughing at me. I’m never going to settle in now.
Mr McEvoy comes a little further into the room, looking at me as if he’s sad or worried or something.
‘Miss Arlington thinks you should see a doctor,’ he says. ‘There’s a nasty flu doing the rounds. One of the first years fainted earlier too.’
I scrunch my nose. Miss Arlington must be the teacher who’s been checking on me. I still don’t know all the teachers’ names and I’m not in her class for anything.
‘I think she’s right, Darcy,’ Tina says. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I really don’t think that’s necessary, Tina,’ Mr McEvoy says.
‘Sir,’ Tina says, sounding offended. ‘Darcy is new here. She needs me.’
I’m lost for words and I hold my breath, waiting for Mr McEvoy to tell Tina to get back to class.
But instead he says, ‘I’ve called your uncle . . .’
‘. . . but he didn’t answer,’ I finish his sentence for him.
Mr McEvoy smiles kindly, and I can tell he feels sorry for me. ‘No. No, he didn’t. I’m sorry, Darcy. But Miss Arlington said she is happy to take you to the local doctor and I’m sure you’d much rather a female teacher than—’
‘Can I come in?’ A voice at the door follows a gentle knock.
I smile, seeing Luke’s head pop around the corner.
‘I just wanted to check Darcy is okay,’ he says.
‘Mr Hogan,’ Mr McEvoy says, and he’s clearly unimpressed that Luke is here and not in class.
‘You all right?’ Luke asks, his round eyes locked on mine. ‘You hit the ground with a massive bang.’<
br />
‘Is everyone laughing at me?’ I ask, cringing.
‘Nah.’ Luke shrugs and I know he’s lying.
My cheeks are stinging and I’ve no doubt they’re bright red. ‘Oh, great.’
‘They’re really not,’ Luke says. ‘Gillian and that gang are the only ones laughing. Typical bitches.’
‘Mr Hogan,’ Mr McEvoy says, more sternly than ever.
‘Sorry, sir,’ Luke says, sheepishly. ‘Everyone else is just worried about you, Darcy. Hoping you’re okay.’
‘She’s fine,’ Tina says.
Luke ignores her and keeps his eyes on me.
‘Shouldn’t you be in class?’ Tina says, sounding like a teacher.
‘Shouldn’t you!’ Luke snaps back, finally looking at her.
Tina tilts her head. ‘Actually, I’m going to the doctor with Darcy. She needs a friend to take care of her.’
‘A friend,’ Luke says, and the look on his face is priceless. It falls somewhere between confusion and disgust at Tina deciding for us both that we are friends.
‘It has to be a female friend,’ Tina says quickly. ‘Mr McEvoy said so.’
‘Actually, Tina. That’s not exactly what I said,’ Mr McEvoy says, and he turns from Tina towards me to add, ‘but if you would really like a friend with you, maybe Tina could—’
‘Can Luke come?’ I ask before he finishes.
‘Well, eh . . .’
‘Please,’ I say.
‘Sir,’ Tina says, her eyes wide and pleading. ‘I really don’t think that’s appropriate, do you?’
Tina’s teacher act is weird and annoying and I get the impression that even Mr McEvoy finds it strange.
His brow is wrinkled as he says, ‘Thank you for your concerns, Miss Summers.’
Luke smirks as Mr McEvoy quickly adds, ‘But I think you’re right. Darcy, if you would like a friend, Tina has my permission to go with you. Otherwise, I think you’ll be fine on your own.’
‘Sir,’ I say.
Mr McEvoy ignores me and says, ‘Back to class please, Mr Hogan.’
Luke opens his mouth to protest but I shake my head. Mr McEvoy is losing patience. Any arguing is only going to get Luke in trouble.
‘Class, Mr Hogan,’ Mr McEvoy repeats.
Luke’s frustration is palpable as he glares at Tina. ‘I’ll catch you later, Darcy, yeah,’ he says.
‘Yeah, later.’
Miss Arlington walks in as Luke walks out and the room begins to feel claustrophobic and stuffy.
‘Are you ready?’ she asks.
‘We are,’ Tina says.
‘Actually,’ I say, sliding to the edge of the bed and trying to catch Miss Arlington’s eye, ‘I think I’m okay going on my own.’
Miss Arlington nods. ‘I think so too.’
‘Right. Grand,’ Mr McEvoy says, marking the end of the discussion with a single, loud clap of his hands.
‘But sir,’ Tina says.
‘You can go back to class now, Tina, thank you,’ he says. ‘And could you let Darcy’s teachers know where she is, please?’
Tina lowers her head and walks out of the door without saying goodbye, and I guess this means we aren’t friends after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
DARCY
Wednesday 3 July 2019
Light shines through the window of our bedroom but my eyes are firmly shut, reluctant to open. Nonetheless I can tell that another day has come around and I’ve slept the evening and night away. I sink deeper into the mound of pillows under my head and I think about how much I can’t wait to have my body, and my mind, back. Damn this pregnancy.
Disorientated, it takes me a moment to realise that I’m not lying down, I’m propped up. And there are voices in the room; they’re both male. Luke is one, I know that straight away, but I have no idea who the other is.
I open my eyes slightly and it takes a while to adjust to the light. Luke is pacing with his hands on his head. It worries me. The other man is tall, even taller than Luke, and he’s wearing a pinstripe shirt and tailored navy trousers. And when he turns around, I realise he’s our GP.
‘Here’s my referral,’ Dr Whelan says. I watch as he passes Luke a piece of paper. ‘She’ll be fine. Not long to go. I’ve no doubt they’ll admit her from now until the end of term, just to keep an eye on things.’
‘Thank you,’ Luke says, and both men shake hands. ‘I’ll talk to Darcy when she wakes up. I think she’ll understand.’
When Luke leaves the room to escort the doctor downstairs, I drag myself out of bed and potter into the bathroom. I want to brush my teeth, craving the feeling of fresh breath to start the day, but the tube of toothpaste is empty. I search the overhead cabinet and find a new box. Sliding the tube out, I press my foot on the pedal of the bin and toss the box inside. It’s such a swift motion it’s surprising that the contents catch my attention, but they do. Shards of broken soap tray are hidden among cotton buds and dental floss. It catches me by surprise and I step back, crashing into Luke who’s suddenly behind me. His arms are strong and calming.
‘You’re awake,’ he says, dotting a kiss on the top of my head. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. Yes. Course,’ I say.
Luke hums. It’s deep and vibrates in his chest. ‘You sure? You’re shaking.’
‘I’m sure,’ I say, making an effort to sound chipper. Luke is asking me how I am, but he sounds like the one who needs reassurance, the one who’s a little off.
‘Okay,’ he says as he walks back into our bedroom, and I’m glad of some space.
I take my time brushing my teeth and I wash my face, more than once, before I follow Luke into our bedroom. Finally feeling human, I walk into our bedroom to find Luke sitting on the edge of our bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
‘Hey,’ I say, edging close to him. ‘You okay?’
He doesn’t budge or make a sound. I sit beside him.
‘Luke?’
Nothing.
‘Hey, Luke. What’s wrong? What’s going on? I heard the doctor here.’
Luke is still painfully silent. My heart is racing.
‘Who was here last night, Darcy?’ Luke finally asks, raising his head for a brief moment to make eye contact with me before dropping it again.
‘What?’ I ask, so confused.
‘There was a woman in the house,’ Luke explains. ‘She was with you. Here in our bedroom. She was watching you while you slept. She told me you’d fainted. And then she left. Suddenly. She just sort of disappeared before I had a chance to ask her what happened or who she was.’
‘Oh,’ I say, and I cringe as I remember passing out and needing a future business partner to put me to bed as if I were a child, but I’m glad Gillian was here. If she hadn’t been here, I’d probably still be lying in a heap on the kitchen floor.
‘She didn’t even introduce herself,’ Luke says. ‘I checked you were okay and when I turned around, she was gone.’
‘That was Gillian,’ I say, trying to sound normal, but the whole situation is making me twitchy.
‘Gillian?’ Luke says, chewing on her name as if he needs time to digest it.
‘Mm-hmm,’ I say.
I put my hand on Luke’s leg, trying to ease the tension, and I keep my voice steady as I say, ‘I told you we had new neighbours.’
Luke nods. ‘You did.’
There’s a strange silence that consumes us. It’s so unlike Luke and me. We’re normally so in tune, but right now I’ve no idea what he’s thinking.
‘The doctor was here,’ I say, desperate to break the tension.
‘Yeah. Gillian called him.’ Luke says her name with such distaste, it makes me uneasy and I pull my hand from his knee and shuffle a little further away from him on the bed.
‘How did she do that?’ I say.
‘You must have given her his number. Or his name at least.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Well, she called him last night and thi
s morning was the earliest he could come,’ Luke says. ‘And now he wants you to go to the hospital so they can keep an eye on you.’
‘But I don’t want to be admitted,’ I say, standing up. ‘I’ve told you that.’
‘The doctor thinks it’s best,’ Luke says, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. ‘And to be honest, at this stage I think he’s right. I can’t keep leaving you alone.’
‘I’m pregnant, Luke. Not dying or helpless. Just pregnant.’
‘C’mon,’ Luke encourages. ‘You should pack a bag. Will I help you?’
‘I’m not going,’ I hiss like a stroppy teenager.
‘Darcy—’
‘No,’ I snap, stomping my foot. ‘Gillian shouldn’t have called Dr Whelan. She was out of line.’
‘Mmm,’ Luke says, frustration scribbled into the wrinkled lines of his forehead, which makes him look years older than usual. I can tell he’s decided Gillian is a nosey neighbour and he’s taken an instant dislike to her. And although the timing is all wrong I know I have to explain.
‘I can’t go to hospital right now . . .’ I begin.
Luke folds his arms and says, ‘Really?’
‘Yes really,’ I say. ’Because we have paperwork.’
‘Darcy,’ Luke says, and I can hear the mix of worry and frustration in his clipped tone.
‘We do.’ I’m smiling as if I’ve won the Lotto. On some level it feels as if I have.
Luke is shaking his head and he looks so sad, and I wish I’d told him sooner.
‘Gillian isn’t just a new neighbour,’ I admit at last. ‘She wasn’t popping in for a cup of tea. She came by to tell us she is going to invest.’
Luke drops his head down until he has three chins and I quickly realise that I’ve made no bloody sense.
‘Sorry. Let me try that again. Gillian Buckley would like to honour her father’s faith in us.’
Luke’s eyebrows are pinched as he frowns and shakes his head. ‘That was Gillian Buckley?’ he says, pointing towards the door as if Gillian is still standing there.
‘Yes,’ I say, disappointed that Luke isn’t more excited.
‘Really?’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t recognise her from school,’ I say. ‘You’re so good with names and faces. Mildred says you have a memory like an elephant. She calls you the walking spreadsheet.’
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