The Paramedic's Daughter

by Tara Lyons

  ‘Adele, I’m really sorry, love. I was just heading out.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says, and drums her hands against the top of her thighs like someone lost. I feel bad. ‘I thought we could grab some breakfast together.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call?’

  ‘I rushed out of work so quickly, I didn’t know if you had managed to get your phone from lost property.’ Her smile fades and she waves a hand as if she’s being silly. ‘You’re right, it was silly of me to come around unannounced… again. I’m sorry.’

  I glance at my watch, annoyed, but offer her a smile. ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s just that I thought I’d head down to Brighton today and surprise Rose.’

  Adele’s smile returns. ‘You managed to get in touch with her then?’

  ‘Well… no. That’s why I’m surprising her.’ Adele doesn’t look convinced; actually, I don’t know what she looks like. She doesn’t look like the bright and bubbly colleague I usually share the ambulance with. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay?’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Abs. I’ll head home and see you on the next shift.’

  As she turns to walk away, something inside of me lurches, and I feel guilty for letting her go. Why, I don’t know, but I call out, ‘Adele, why don’t you come with me?’

  She spins around, the joy evident in her hazel eyes. ‘Really? I wouldn’t be intruding?’

  What am I doing? ‘Of course not. It’ll be good to have someone on the journey with me. And I’m sure Rose would love to see you too; you guys haven’t seen each other since…’

  ‘That leaving BBQ thing you threw for her in the summer before she packed off to uni.’

  ‘Exactly. Gosh, that seems like a lifetime ago. Is that really the last time you saw Rose?’

  Adele shrugs and turns down her mouth. ‘It must be. I can’t think of when I would have last spoken to her.’

  As I move to grab the door keys from the side cabinet, something comes back to my mind out of the blue. I turn to Adele. ‘Hey, I meant to ask you, actually. Why do you have Rose’s number?’

  She stares at me and puckers her lips, saying nothing.

  ‘When you came around to mine. After our job at the TA and I didn’t have my phone. Rose’s number was stored in your mobile.’

  I must have jogged her memory enough because she makes that ‘ah ha’ sound, like you see the old detectives on TV do when they’ve solved their mystery. ‘It was at that same BBQ. We exchanged numbers, for no reason really. I think it was more of a “oh, you’re leaving, let’s keep in touch” kinda thing. We never actually did.’

  ‘Ha, yeah, that’s always the way, isn’t it? Anyway, about today. If you’re free–’

  ‘Hell yeah I am, girl. Let’s have a day out by the sea.’

  As I pull the front door closed, and then double lock it, Adele swoops her arm through mine and we walk, interlocked, away from my home. It’s definitely not the day I planned but, for some reason, it feels nice not to be alone.

  Chapter 9

  As the train pulls away from London Victoria, my mood hitches up another notch and the smile on my face is involuntary; in about an hour and a half, I’ll see Rose. I’ll hold my daughter so tight she’ll think I have flipped out.

  I already brought Adele up to speed, explaining how I’ve felt having no contact with Rose, and her words were similar to Dave’s, but not miles away from my thinking. Adele has children of her own and although they’re older and have blessed her with grandchildren – and no, you would never guess Adele was a granny – she can understand the unreasonable panic when you can’t get through to them. Her understanding nature has helped keep the calmness overriding the threatening storm of emotions.

  ‘Can I be honest with you, Abi?’

  Uh oh. ‘Okay.’

  ‘The real reason I came round this morning was because I’ve been a bit worried about you.’

  My smile evaporates and I frown, surprised. That’s annoying. I wanted to stay on a high. ‘You have? But why?’

  Adele sighs and squirms a little in her seat. ‘Well, Dave called me last night – I think he’d had a few drinks, if I’m honest. He was worried about you, and how you feel about Rose… so I knew all this before you even told me. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything just now. I thought it was probably good for you to get your feelings out.’

  I want to be angry, but how can I be? I don’t have many friends, and my family is practically non-existent, so if my work colleagues care so much about me that they’re speaking to each other outside of the station, that can’t be so bad, right?

  ‘So, I thought I’d come round and take you out for breakfast – that part was true,’ she continues with a smile, ‘and maybe it would help you take your mind off Rose.’

  My shoulders slump. ‘I don’t want to take my mind off–’

  Adele’s palm, inches from my face, cuts me off. ‘I know you don’t. That’s why I was glad you said you were coming to Brighton this morning. You’re being proactive, getting out there and doing something. I mean, not the something I’ve been telling you to get out there and do for ages, but nonetheless, you’re being ballsy and decisive. And I like this side to Abi.’

  I roll my eyes and shake my head; this woman can be impossible. Honestly, apart from Rose, she’s probably my best friend. My lips tug upwards and the smile – along with the happy mood – quickly returns.

  ‘Well, thanks for caring about me… no matter how strange it is sometimes.’

  Adele laughs while cracking the ring pull of her Diet Coke. ‘So, what’s the plan? Do you think Rose will be at home?’

  ‘Yeah, I would guess so. It’s late Sunday morning by time the train pulls into Brighton, right? I doubt she’ll be in the library.’

  ‘Damn straight. She’s probably in bed nursing a hangover if she’s anything like me in my pre-grandma, pre-kids, pre-responsibility days. Oh, to be young and free and enjoy all-day drinking from Saturday afternoon to Saturday night again, and then wasting your entire Sunday recuperating and feeling sorry for yourself, of course.’

  ‘What, like that man we were called to at The Grand Junction pub? Sprawled out by the canal, baking in the sun and choking on his own vomit?’ I quickly remind her. ‘Enough to put you off drinking fruity cider in the sunshine for a lifetime.’

  She pulls a face as the train stops at Burgess Hill; just two more stops and we’re there. The butterflies have stayed with me, though they’re no longer abusing me from the inside; I feel their wings like a graceful dance. It’s welcome… it’s nice. There’s also a sneaky glimmer of heat from the weak sun building strength in the distance and peering in through the train window. That’s welcome too, because it fits just perfectly with the jovial mood this morning.

  The quietness of the carriage is disrupted by a group of girls getting on the train. I say group, but when I peer around to where they’ve sat behind us, I’m shocked to find there’s only three of them. They’re making enough noise that you’d be forgiven for thinking that a hen party had just joined the 10.25am train to Brighton. Usually, the disturbance would irk me slightly. I mean, I’m no old fuddy-duddy, but I hate the way some people – and I’m not saying it’s always young people – think that public transport belongs to them solely. That they can cackle and scream and speak at a decibel so loud the entire train can hear them. Come on, the world doesn’t revolve around you.

  And just as quickly as the thought comes, I feel guilty. I must remember I was their age once: excited, carefree and just enjoying life. They mean no harm. Not like I did when I was their age–

  ‘What do you think?’ Adele’s waving her hand in my face; I go cross-eyed trying to focus.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I’d say those girls are from Brighton Uni. They’re talking about a pub quiz happening this afternoon.’

  ‘Hardly conclusive evidence.’

  Adele pouts and makes a weird humming noise through her lips. ‘No, maybe not. What about the Brig
hton University jumper that one of them is wearing?’

  I quickly gaze over my shoulder again, surprised I missed it the first time. Turning back to Adele, it’s hard to ignore her raised eyebrows and smirk. ‘Alright, alright, fair game, guv,’ I say, and hold my hands up in mock surrender to her smugness.

  She’s off her seat in one swift movement and joins the students. Her presence doesn’t dull their enthusiasm; in fact, it seems to only encourage it more as they go full throttle into the details about the weekly pub quiz at the university’s student union. I think I remember Rose mentioning it before. I can’t be entirely sure.

  They continue to explain that it’s a great way to get the students who have buggered off for the weekend back to campus, in time for lectures on Monday, because they offer a happy hour, cheap booze and decent prizes. The trio don’t live far, but they always make sure they’re back for the quiz, like most of the students, apparently. It’s very popular, so they tell Adele. When they’ve told her all she wants to know, Adele’s back in her seat with an aura of giddiness about her.

  ‘I think they’ve rubbed off on you.’

  ‘Their zest for fun is infectious, I’ll admit.’ She laughs. ‘But it definitely sounds like it’s the place to head straight to. The quiz starts at half past twelve; the girls say everyone’s there about an hour before to get a seat and register their team.’

  I hesitate. That wasn’t the plan. Meet Rose at her house and go for lunch. That was the plan.

  As if Adele’s read my mind, she rolls her eyes. ‘Look, there was no plan and Rose doesn’t know you’re coming. If this quiz is as popular as those girls say, then surely Rose and her housemates go every Sunday.’

  ‘I thought you said Rose would be hungover in bed like you would have been,’ I reply with a smirk of my own.

  ‘Ah, but you’re forgetting about the hair of the dog.’

  I can’t help but laugh. ‘We can actually walk the route to Rose’s house which takes us past the student union first.’

  ‘There you go. Your plan hasn’t really been disrupted, in that case. A small detour is all.’

  She has a point. I’m not completely sold on it but it wouldn’t hurt to cover all the bases. ‘Why do I feel you’re more excited about entering a student union, a place filled with young men and booze?’

  Adele gasps. ‘Abigail Quinn. What are you implying? I’m a happily married woman. A mother and a grandmother. I’m just here for a day out with my friend, to have lunch with her and her daughter.’

  She’s trying to make light of the situation, and I’m really trying to ignore the panic gripping me. I can’t keep up with my own bloody emotions. We don’t know if Rose will be at the student union, or if she’ll be at home nursing a hangover, or if she even fucking cares about the stupid pub quiz. That’s the whole point: I don’t know where my daughter is. Suddenly, the bright and breezy Abi of an hour ago is kicked out of the pilot’s seat and I’m left an angry, confused woman grinding her jaw shut in fear of shouting out my worst nightmares.

  I gaze out the window, ignoring Adele as she continues to witter on about God knows what, and watch the sun disappear behind the greyest of clouds. The slither of hope that the sunshine would grace our day at the seaside is over. There’s no coming back from that brimming dark sky, tempting a downpour to wash away any optimism I had.

  If needs be, I’ll leave Adele at the student union with her new girlie friends and head off to find Rose myself. I should have listened to my own damn gut. Going this long – this many days and hours and minutes – without hearing from Rose is unheard of. Add that to the fact that there’s been no social media activity on Rose’s part… well, that’s unheard of too. It’s unthinkable. The need to know what my daughter is doing, and where she is, is making my skin itch.

  Chapter 10

  The three students are in front of us, laughing and swaying, and it’s then that I spy their drinks – two gin and tonics and a vodka and coke in sleek cans; classy chicks, gone are the days of a bottle of White Lightning. Still, they’re half pissed already, so the cans have done their job. Christ, it’s not even noon.

  I want to scold myself for being such a granny about it – I used to do it myself, and yes, I had carefree, fun days. Things are different now. I can’t shrug it off and be the ‘cool aunt’ who cracks a can with them; though I notice Adele is desperate to.

  She’s walking a notch slower than them and a step faster than me. She wants to be in both worlds: adulthood – and all its sensibility and restrictions – and kidulthood, with all its freedom and public drinking. I get the appeal. I’ve yearned for it and acted on those impulses myself. While studying in Scotland, I drank and partied with the best of them, but also made sure I wasn’t seen as a child… acted like an adult.

  Ha! Some adult, Abi, you–

  ‘The girls said the student union was right around the corner.’ Adele’s excited voice distracts me from my thoughts again. It’s getting slightly annoying now. Or maybe her tone is. She’s giddy. It’s not infectious and welcoming, like it is at work, and I’m mad at her. I’m not entirely sure why I’m mad at her. And actually, it’s not just at her. I’ve stopped in the middle of the pavement, frowning hard, and I feel violent. I never feel this aggressive, but there’s a fireball of rage building in my stomach and I want to lash out. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  ‘Abi, are you okay?’

  I flinch at her touch, gentle as it is on my forearm. It does go some way towards extinguishing the flames burning inside of me. I take a deep breath and try with every ounce of strength in my body not to sound like a total bitch when I reply.

  ‘Adele, I just need to find my Rose.’

  She smiles, oblivious. ‘I know, girl, that’s why we’re here. Let’s go in and check it out.’

  I follow her, on autopilot, and watch her breeze through the door of the student union. It’s as if she’s wearing her green uniform – chest pumped high – and she’s here to save the day. There’s no feeling like that in me. Rather, there’s a small and insignificant feeling, like I shouldn’t be here, as though I already know Rose isn’t here. I continue to follow her anyway.

  ‘Excuse me, coming through,’ Adele calls out. Most of the students ignore her.

  The bar is rammed. I’d say on an ordinary day this place is quite big, spacious even, but right now it’s the exact image you conjure when someone says a gig was packed with people wall to wall, like sardines. I’m a fucking sardine in a student bar. The rage ignites again.

  ‘Let us through, please; give us some room.’ Adele continues to try to sound important. She’s not, and these people know it. She is creating some kind of pathway and I follow her to the bar where she’s shouting my daughter’s name at the bartender like we’re bloody Cagney and Lacey. ‘I’m looking for a Rose Quinn, have you seen her?’

  The young lad, obviously a first-year student himself, shrugs – his brown skin is a mirror of Adele’s, his youthfulness is not – and points to the array of drinks. That’s all he can help her with.

  ‘This is pointless,’ I whisper in her ear. ‘He can’t pick out one student from the hundreds he must see on a daily basis.’

  ‘It’s worth a try. Do you want me to order us a drink while I’m here?’

  For crying out loud. Seriously?

  ‘Do what you want, Adele. I can’t stand here waiting for a pub quiz to start. I’m going to look around for Rose.’

  She gives me a thumbs up. ‘Good idea. You scope out the place and I’ll stay put. If she’s here already, she’ll need a drink at some point, and if she arrives late, I’ll see her. I’ve got a great line to the door.’

  I return the thumbs up with a wildly enthusiastic smile. The sarcasm is lost on my friend. Well, my colleague. This is the reason I don’t have friends. I don’t have time for them. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? I don’t have time for any friends… wow. All the woman wants to do is help me. But it’s a burden, isn’t it? It’s not a help. Everything i
s slower when you have friends, and you have to take into account what they think and what they want to do. Because trust me, if it weren’t for Adele, I wouldn’t be stuck in this sweaty, bitter-smelling, cramped pub. I’d be inside Rose’s house with a warm cup of tea, laughing with my daughter.

  So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Trying to break through the throngs of people is actually quite difficult now as more undergraduates have arrived en masse for the quiz, and Adele isn’t channelling Moses and parting the Red Sea – or perhaps it was God who accomplished that, I forget the details. I let the rage lead me. Head down and arms out, I push my way through to the door and out onto the street. The rain greets me. I let the wet drops pelt my face. It’s refreshing, and I can’t help standing still for a few moments to let them wash over me. I have no umbrella, but who cares? This is needed. It’s dampening my fire.

  A black shadow of doubt crosses my mind; what if Rose is in the student union? I’m so busy telling myself I don’t need friends and Adele is just getting in the way and blah blah blah, when actually the woman could be right. My daughter could be sat in there, at a table in the far corner, enjoying a pitcher of snakebite and preparing to show off her general knowledge prowess. Why am I so quick to dismiss the idea?

  Because a mother flaming well knows, that’s why.

  My inner voice yells at me and I snap my eyes open. I’m right, of course I am. A parent just knows these things. A mother’s instinct – that you receive when the umbilical cord is cut – is the gift from your child when the nurse takes them away to clear the blood and muck that they’ve clung to as they left your body. It’s their way of saying, ‘Here, Mum, this will help you when I’m away from home, at whatever age, lost and vulnerable, and need your help. Mother’s instinct will lead you to me.’

  Somebody help me. What the hell is happening in my head?