Shopaholic Ties the Knot

“Hey, what was I supposed to think?” he says defensively. “It was Christmas, they were gift-wrapped… it was like, Yes, Daniel, there is a Santa Claus—” He reaches for the Martini bottle and sloshes it into the cocktail shaker. “Strong? Extra strong?”

“Danny, I really have to make this phone call. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I unplug the phone and take it into the bedroom, then close the door and try to focus my thoughts again.

Right. I can do this. Calm and collected. I dial our home number and wait with slight dread as the ringing tone sounds.

“Hello?” comes a tinny-sounding voice.

“Hello?” I reply puzzledly. Even allowing for long distance, that’s not Mum’s voice.

“Becky! It’s Janice! How are you, love?”

This is bizarre. Did I dial next-door’s number by mistake?

“I’m… fine.”

“Oh, good! Now, while you’re on the phone, which do you prefer, Evian or Vittel?”

“Vittel,” I say automatically. “Janice—”

“Lovely. And for sparkling water? It’s only that a lot of people drink water these days, you know, what with being healthy… What do you think of Perrier?”

“I… I don’t know. Janice—” I take a deep breath. “Is Mum there?”

“Didn’t you know, love? Your parents have gone away! To the Lake District.”

I feel a plunge of frustration. How can I have forgotten about their trip to the Lake District?

“I’ve just popped in to see to the plants. If it’s an emergency I can look up the number they left—”

“No, it’s… it’s OK.”

My frustration has started to subside. Instead I’m feeing a tiny secret relief. This kind of lets me off the hook for the moment. I mean, it’s not my fault if they’re away, is it?

“Are you sure?” says Janice. “If it’s important, I can easily get the number…”

“No, honestly, it’s fine! Nothing important,” I hear myself saying. “Well, lovely to speak to you… bye then!” I thrust down the receiver, trembling slightly.

It’s only for a few more days. It won’t make any difference either way.

I walk back into the living room to find Danny reclining on the sofa, flipping channels.

“All OK?” he says, lifting his head.

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s have that drink.”

“In the shaker,” he says, nodding his head toward the cabinet, just as the front door opens.

“Hi!” I call. “Luke, is that you? You’re just in time for a—”

I stop abruptly as Luke enters the room and stare at him in dismay. His face is pale and hollow, his eyes even darker than usual. I’ve never seen him look like this before.

Danny and I glance at each other and I feel my heart plunge in dread.

“Luke!” I gulp. “Are you OK?”

“I’ve been trying to call for an hour,” he says. “You weren’t at work, the line here was busy…”

“I was probably on my way home. And then I had to make a call.” Anxiously I take a step toward him. “What’s happened, Luke? Is it work?”

“It’s Michael,” says Luke. “I’ve just heard. He’s had a heart attack.”

Ten

MICHAEL’S ROOM IS on the fourth floor of the George Washington University Hospital. We walk along the corridors in silence, both staring straight ahead. We arrived in Washington last night. Our hotel bed was very big and comfortable, but even so, neither of us slept very well. In fact, I’m not sure Luke slept at all. He hasn’t said much, but I know he’s feeling eaten up with guilt.

“He could have died,” he said last night, as we were both lying awake in the darkness.

“But he didn’t,” I replied, and reached for his hand.

“But he could have.”

And when you think about it, it’s true. He could have. Every time I think about it I feel a horrible lurch in my tummy. I’ve never before known anyone close to me to be ill. I mean, there was my great-aunt Muriel, who had something wrong with her kidneys — but I only met her about twice. And all my grandparents are still alive except Grandpa Bloomwood, who died when I was two, so I never even knew him.

In fact, I’ve hardly ever been into a hospital before, unless you count ER and Terms of Endearment. As we walk along, past scary signs like “Oncology” and “Renal Unit,” I realize yet again how sheltered my life has been.

We arrive at room 465 and Luke stops.