‘No offence taken.’ Li beamed. If he’d told Li her party sucked, her decorations were ugly and the food tasted like cardboard, I didn’t think she would have minded.
As weird as it was to be driven in Eric’s ancient Ford Escort, the entire dashboard vibrating in time to his Neil Diamond cassette tape, he was the perfect chauffeur. He drove as swiftly as my galloping heart while remaining entirely silent until parking up outside the hospital entrance twenty minutes later.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, fumbling to unstrap Bob’s car seat. ‘Hope you have a lovely Christmas.’
‘Sooner it’s over with, the better,’ he grumbled, before giving a mischievous wink. ‘Get in there and snag your man.’
Pausing only to follow the signs, I hurried through the hospital, which thankfully was relatively small considering I was also lugging Bob in his seat. Still, it felt far too long until I arrived, breathless for so many reasons, at the entrance to the geriatric ward.
Here I forced myself to stop, steady myself, plaster on my attempt at a cheery yet concerned expression, and entered the room at a more inconspicuous speed.
Gramps was in one corner, the bed next to him empty, which seemed miraculous given the busy time of year. His eyes were closed, but as I approached, he slowly opened them to wrinkled slits.
Oh my.
He had a dressing on the side of his head. One cheek was a shocking mix of grey and purple bruises, and his whole demeanour was terribly old and horribly frail.
‘Wondered when you’d finally show up.’
I hastily sat down, undoing Bob’s straps and lifting him up so Gramps could see.
‘Bob missed you.’
Bob was currently fast asleep.
‘Bob could have come to see me yesterday. Or however long I’ve been here.’
‘Bob didn’t know,’ I said, feeling another flood of guilt. ‘I didn’t know. I missed Beckett’s calls on Saturday morning, and then he must have been too busy here to see my messages since. He… We…’
Gramps grunted. ‘That explains why he’s been so miserable, then. If you two have had a tiff.’
‘No, we haven’t… I don’t think.’
He narrowed one eye even further, if that was possible. ‘He tells you all my other business. Can’t think of another reason he’d not be pestering you about this.’
I sighed. ‘I don’t honestly know what happened.’
‘Best try asking him, then.’
‘I will.’ I gave a firm nod. ‘I will. Is he here?’
‘Out working. Might as well earn some money while I can’t get into any mischief.’
‘Right. Well, I didn’t come here to see him, anyway. I came to see you. What happened, Gramps?’ I dared take hold of his spindly hand. ‘Why were you out in the middle of the night? Didn’t you consider it could be dangerous?’
He glanced at me, before staring stubbornly at the sheet for a long moment.
‘I knew it was dangerous. That’s why I was out there.’
I tried not to tighten my grip.
‘You were trying to hurt yourself?’
Or worse? I thought, with a jolt of horror.
He gave a barely perceptible shrug.
‘It’s not right. A grandson being chained to his grandad all the time. Worse than prison. Buttoning my trousers, cutting my dinosaur-claw toenails. I didn’t mind so much him being shot of that woman. She wasn’t right for him anyway. But he let go of everything else. Himself included. Beckett used to laugh. It was infectious. All my doubts and guilt about everything, losing his mother for starters, would disappear when I heard that laugh.
