After drying off, she pulled a fresh set of scrubs out of the wardrobe and put them in the backpack she used for work every day, then threw on her dark grey jeans and a black Merino wool jumper. Suede boots and a leather jacket went on next, before she dabbed on a bit of lip balm and shook out her hair. No time for cosmetics this morning. She shoved her make-up bag intoher backpack in case she changed her mind later, then grabbed her phone and hospital ID from the bedside table.
At the door, she stopped, running through her pre-work checklist in her mind. Okay. She had everything she required. Except perhaps her emotional equilibrium and the capacity to deal with what this day was throwing at her so far. And it was only 10.30a.m.
Back downstairs, she grabbed her car keys from the console table in the hall, then summoned her dad from the kitchen. He seemed slightly calmer as he followed her out, clutching his mug of coffee. If he so much as spilled a drop of that in her car she’d have yet another thing to add to her current list of paternal furies.
She waited until they were out of her cul-de-sac and onto the main road that would take them most of the way to the hospital, before she could focus enough to restart the conversation.
‘Okay, Dad, let’s get this straight. You’ve split with Donna, and you want Mum back. Are you absolutely sure about this? It isn’t just a fall-back plan because things aren’t working out with you and your girlfriend?’ Just saying the word ‘girlfriend’ made her cringe, but it was kinder than the more accurate ‘mistress that replaced my mother.’
‘No! Definitely not. That’swhythings aren’t working out with Donna – it’s because I’ve realised that the only woman I’ve ever truly loved is Ailish. And I still do. Honestly, Ems, I feel like I’ve just woken up from a two-year bender with the worst hangover ever and full of absolute horror about what I’ve got up to.’
‘Yep, pretty much sums up how I feel about the last two years of your life. It was every bit as bad as you feared, Dad.’ She had a feeling she should be going easy on him and showing some compassion and understanding, but, well, the truth was, she was running short on both of those emotions right now. He hadn’tjust hurt Mum, he’d damaged her too, destroyed her ability to trust. If her dependable, decent, loving dad could do something so awful to his partner, then so could anyone. So could Cormac.
She swallowed that one back down for now. One crisis at a time.
Her last comment had shut him up, and he stared out of the window for the next few moments, before breaking the silence with, ‘Do you think she still loves me? Do you think she’d take me back?’
Emmy sighed, weary, then made a real effort to conjure up some softness as she answered him honestly. ‘I really don’t know, Dad. You know, you didn’t just break her heart, it was almost like you broke all of her. She’s never been the same since. Everything has changed. And you did that to her.’
‘I know,’ he groaned, and the angst in his voice evoked just a little more sympathy.
‘I think you really need to speak to her yourself. And, Dad, I’m not getting involved. This is between the two of you.’
‘I understand that, and I agree. I’m going to go speak to her. Today. Now. Do you know if she’s at home?’
Emmy did a quick audit of what she knew about her mum’s movements. Almost eleven o’clock. Visiting time on Gwen’s ward. No doubt Mum would either be on her way to the hospital right now or already there. Shit! She was taking her ranting, distraught father right to her. This had disaster written all over it. The hospital wasn’t the place for them to have that conversation.
‘Erm, I think she’s out with Aunt Rhonda right now. Doing a bit of shopping.’ As her mum’s oldest and closest friends, Rhonda and Gwen had always been ‘aunties’ to her, despite there being no genetic connection. ‘But maybe she’ll be home this afternoon. You could try her then. But, Dad, make sure you’re absolutely positive about this. Don’t play with her heartagain, because if you do, I’ll…’ She switched her indicator on and turned off the road and onto the street that led to the hospital car park. As she did, something to her left distracted her and before she could even process what she was doing, she slammed on her brakes, screeching the car to a halt, throwing them both forwards and tipping the remnants of dad’s coffee all over his lap.
‘Christ, Emmy, you nearly killed me. What the hell did you do that for?’
Ignoring the furiously beeping horn of the car behind her, Emmy swivelled around, craning her neck, trying desperately to catch sight of the vehicle that had just passed her and turned right, heading away from the hospital.
‘Emmy?’ Her dad’s voice was raised now. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing?’
Too late. It was gone. And she was pretty sure she’d tweaked a muscle in her neck. Bugger. Damn. Arse. As her dad frantically tried to brush coffee off his lap, she felt a sickening chill deep in her gut.
‘I think I just saw Cormac’s car. But it couldn’t be him because he’s at work…’
At least he was supposed to be.
7
DARIO
Dario felt weirdly detached from the world, as if all the business and action going on outside his office door was unconnected to him in some way. Usually, when they had a big night ahead, he’d be out on the floor, excited, making sure everything was set up and perfect, laughing with his staff and raising their spirits. Just like his dad before him, he never lost sight of the fact that their employees were working on the special occasions, when their families and friends would be celebrating without them, so he wanted them to feel that this was more than just a job. It was a family, and they were all part of it, related or not. He wasn’t sure they’d feel that way after the news that he was going to have to deliver to them at some point soon.
He could hear Katie, the youngest member of the team, on the phone at the maître d’ stand, running through tonight’s reservations and calling them all to confirm the booking. Sonya was still out there, barking out warnings to ‘watch that bloody floor, I’ve just washed it. You’ll end up on your arse if you slip on it.’ The sous-chefs were already in the kitchen, starting the preparations for tonight’s menu. His son, Matty, would be here soon to oversee the rest of the prep and to get ready for thelunch service that would start at twelve. The foundations of their menus hadn’t changed much in the last thirty years, so they had it all down to a fine art. One that was perilously close to being rendered redundant.
One more call to make. His last hope. His Hail Mary. He dialled the number of Talia Kane, the accountant who had looked after his accounts for years. She was another one who’d been at uni with him and Brodie. He might not have a business any longer, but at least he still had friends.
She answered on the first ring. ‘Hey. How are you doing?’
‘Fair to crap, edging further to the crap side with every passing hour.’
‘Shit, Dario, I wish there was something I could do to help you salvage this,’ she said, repeating Brodie’s sentiments.
‘So I take it the bank rejected the loan application again then?’ This was the third time they’d applied for a loan, in diminishing amounts every time, and he’d held out hope that the latest application, for a sum that would tide them over just for a few months, would have come through.
