‘I’m sure you did! Oh, there’s Sofia. Sofia!’ Ginger waved brightly at Sofia weaving her way through the barn collecting dirty cups.
‘Hi, Ginger.’
‘Sofia, I spoke to that lovely registrar, Lisa Chan. She said she’s booked in for Bridget and Paolo?’
Sofia paused, causing the cups to rattle precariously on the tray. ‘Great! Brilliant! I’ll catch you later, Ginger, just taking these up to the house to get washed.’
Sofia rushed out of the barn, Ginger carrying her own tray much more slowly behind her. I frowned, puzzled. I had a feeling there was something about that conversation that should have bothered me, and Sofia’s quick exit only heightened my suspicions. But before my overloaded brain could process what that might be, Orla poked her head round the barn door.
‘Em! Speech time. Get yourself out here.’
‘Right.’ I secured the takings, made sure the remaining food was all safely covered and got myself out there, through the crowd and over to the lawn where Mamma had commandeered Moses’ microphone, her cerise sundress bright against the bushes behind her.
‘Ladies, gentlemen, Annabel Finch and everybody else, I thank you with all my heart for coming along to this important event.’
‘Like we had any choice!’ someone snarked from the crowd. I couldn’t see for sure, but it sounded like Annabel Finch.
‘As most of you will now know, ME is a hidden disease. Stealing the purpose and the independence of a quarter of a million people in the UK alone. There is no cure and next to no treatment. Mainly because for too long too many of these fancy boffin doctors found it more convenient to believe it didn’t even exist, apart from in the minds of all these weak, lazy, paranoid, hypochondriac people who pretend to be ill so they get to lie in the dark all day alone while the rest of the world carries on without them—’
‘You had some more people to thank, Mamma?’ Orla interjected from her spot at the front, no doubt positioned there precisely in order to keep things moving.
‘Yes! Yes, I have so many people to thank.’
The crowd shifted with a collective mutter.
‘I won’t be long!’ Mamma huffed. ‘Please show your appreciation for Emma and Nita, from Emma’s Cakery, for all the lovely food. Delicious celebration cakes, and they can even do food for if you want vegan or this or that free or whatever else people fuss about these days. It actually tastes not bad, too!
‘Also, the rest of my wonderful family, who all helped. You know who they are, I don’t need to go on about it.
‘But, finally, I must say my biggest thank you to two most important and special people. Two people who give me hope and fill my heart. Their big, fat, brainy brains could do anything, but instead, they decided to work for a nasty little man who pays them peanuts so they can work, every day and lots of nights too, searching, searching to try to find something to beat this disease. Ladies and gentlemen, please extend a very big, Hatherstone appreciation for my daughter, Dr Bridget Donovan, and her wonderful assistant Dr Cooper. Dr Donovan and Dr Cooper! Up you come! Quickly now, everybody is getting tired and ready to go home.’
No Bridget or Cooper.
‘Oh, well now, where have they got to? Probably off somewhere discussing something very important and scientifical. Emma, Paolo, perhaps you can find them for us?’
The crowd grew increasingly restless.
‘Moses, perhaps you could sing us another song while we are waiting?’
I scuttled off, wondering where they were most likely to be. Hurrying across the lawn and around the side of the farmhouse, I found them standing in front of the back door a few metres away. Before I had a chance to get any closer, my subconscious registered their body language and I drew to a sharp stop, before retreating swiftly to stand in the shadow of a pine tree.
‘What’s wrong?’ I could barely hear Cooper’s words over the roaring of my blood as it galloped frantically through my veins. ‘You’ve barely looked at or spoken to me all day. Have I upset you?’
Bridget shook her head. ‘It’s nothing, honestly.’
‘I know you. I know when something’s wrong.’
‘I’m probably just stressed and tired.’
Cooper cleared his throat. ‘And that means you can’t even look at me? Will you please tell me what I’ve done?’
Bridget pressed her hands to her face. ‘Nothing. You’ve done nothing. Please stop asking.’
‘Bridget.’ Cooper tentatively reached forwards and tucked a strand of stray hair back behind her ear. A gesture I’d done myself a million times before over the past twenty-five years. He looked as though he’d been waiting at least twice that long to do it.
‘If it’s not me, then will you talk to someone else about why you’re so upset?’
‘I’m not upset!’ She dropped her hands, the lock of hair falling straight back down again. Her shoulders shaking as she sobbed, in defiance of her words. ‘You have to stop asking me. Stop talking to me. It’s nothing. I’m fine. And you can’t say anything to anyone else about it, either.’
