Woman’s Weekly UK – 27 August 2019

womansweekly.com 53

counteverybrickshecould
seeandfolloweverylineof
wonkycementfromtopto
bottom,andto relay
theinformationto the
almostsilentwoman in
theotherbed.
Soon,everyonekept
tellingher,it wouldbe
timeto givehermore
stimulation,ormaybe
evendischargeher.It was
thislastsuggestionthatKim
clungto,especiallyasshe’d
hadsofewvisitors.Only
threein thewholemonth.
She’dseenthewaythe
nursesalllookedat her,that
mixof pityandintrigue.It
waspossible,shefeltlike
shouting,to beperfectly
happywithouthundredsof
friendsora wholetribeof
a familytraipsingin andout
everyday.Butevenso,even
forherandherself-imposed
lifeof solitude,therewere
timeswhenit feltlonely.
‘So,Kim,’Mandysaid,
appearingsilentlybesideher
bed,‘Wethoughtyoumight
likea changeof sceneryfor
anhourorsothisafternoon.
Whatd’youthink?’
‘Yeah,OKthen.’She
nodded.‘Where?’
‘There’sa dayroomat the
endof thecorridor.It’snever
busy,butbiggerwindows
anda TV.A chanceto see
differentthingsandpeople.’
It wasridiculoussheknew,
but her stomachfilledwith
dancingbutterflies.
Thenurseplaceda hand
lightlyonherarm.‘Have
you...’ shehesitated.‘Have
youlookedin a mirror in the
lastfewweeks?’
Kimshookherhead.It was
true,shehadn’t,butonce
whenthey’dbeenwheeling
herbackfromsomewhere,
X-raymaybe,she’dcaught
sight of her reflectionin a
hugewindowblackenedby
thelate-winterafternoon.
‘I waswonderingif you’d
likemeto washyourhair,
andtrimit a littlemaybe?’
thenursesaid.
Kim forced herself to

Shehadtostopthinkingabouthim

butitwasvirtuallyimpossible

SERIAL

Continuedoverleaf

breatheslowly.Deeply.

Slowly.Tobanishthe

butterflies.The last time

she’dhadherhaircuthad

beenin thesalonshealways

wentto,theexpensive,

ever-so-slightlytooachingly

trendyonein Sohothatall

theaccountdirectorsat the

officeused.Whatwould

theymakeof themesson

herheadnow?She’dbeen

thinkingaboutthemjustthe

otherday.Thatlastcuthad

onlybeensixweeksago,

yetit mightjustaswell have

beena lifetime.

‘OK,’ she said, exhaling.

‘Let’sdoit. Solongasit

doesn’tcostme£75!’

✿✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Ravrecognisedherthe

momentshewasbrought

intotheunusuallycrowded

dayroom.Someonehad

cutherhairsoit wasshorter

now.Shewassittingin

a wheelchair,herknees

coveredin a hospital

blanketbutwearingwhathe

presumedwasherown

fleece,zippedup almostto

herchin.It wasa darkgreen.

Hecouldn’thelpbutstare.

Again.Thistimenotto check

thatshewasallright,but

ratherto retracethefacehe

rememberedsowellfrom

beforeandto acquaint

himselffor the first time with

herbeautifulbrowneyes.

She glanced around the

roomandcaughthim

watchingher.It wastoo

lateto lookaway,sohe

smiled,andthefaintest

of returnsmiles

appearedonherlips.

Beneaththatmost

perfectof cupid’s

bows.This was crazy.

Andawkward.

Heturnedaway,

returningto theendless

messagesonhisphone,

the 127 postsonhis

Facebookpage,andthe

voicemailmessagesfrom

hismum,bestfriendand

Zoya,allof whomwould

bevisitinglater.Asmuchas

heneededthemall,and

appreciatedeverysingle

wishforhisspeedyrecovery,

he’dbeenherea monthnow

andtherewasmorethana

tinybitof Ravthatcraved

somepeace.Justfora few

hours,orbetterstill,a

fewdays.Justuntilhewas

literallyand figurativelyback

onhisfeet.Justuntilhe

feltmorelikehisoldself

again.Justuntilheknew

whatthehellwas going on

in his head.

When,about 10 minutes

later,helooked up again, she

was gone.

✿✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Kimtriedsohardnotto think

of him,to tellherselfthat

hehadonlysmiledbecause

she’dlookedstraightat

him,thathiseyeshad

notlockedwithhers,that

she’dnotfelta hugejoltof

electricitybetweenthem.

Ofcourse,shehadn’t.She

wasrecoveringfroma head

trauma;herbrainwasstill

veryfragile.Everyonetold

herso.It washersenses

playinggameswithher.She

hadto stopthinkingabout

himandfocusonsomething

elsebut,stuckin thisplace,it

wasvirtuallyimpossible.For

twomorelongweeks,she

tried. But what else was there

to do?Hehadn’tlooked

unwell,fromwhatshecould

see,whichin realityhadn’t

beena greatdeal,asthe

roomwassomuchmore

crowdedthanthenursehad

ledherto believeit would

be.Apparently,it beinga

Saturdayafternoon,therehad

beena bigfootballmatchon

thetelly.Buthehadn’tbeen

watchingtheTVwiththe

others,he’dbeenonhis

phone,franticallytyping.He

wasobviouslypopular.He

mightevenbemarried.

Andshewasperfectlyall

right,betterthanallright,

onherown.Justasshe’d

beenfor five yearsnow.

Justasshewantedsinceher

lifehadimploded;since

theloveof herlife,Ted,

hadcatastrophicallylether

down.Justas...it wasno

use,sleepwould never come

likethis.

It wasnearlymidnight.She

hadto getoutof bedanddo

something.Theywerealways

tellingherto tryto usethe

wheelchairmorebyherself.

She’dactuallybecomequite

goodat it. Andthecorridors

wouldbeemptynowso

if shebumpedintoa few

things,noonewouldsee.

Shemightevenlookfora

vendingmachineandbuy

a drinkora barof chocolate.

Nowthatshethoughtof it,

chocolatesounded the best

planever.

It waseasyto getintothe

chairandcoverherselfup,

andeveneasierto wheel

quietlypastthebig-eyed

woman,whowasfastasleep.

Thehardestpartwasgetting

throughthedoorwithout

makingtoomuchnoise,

butshemadeit.

Glancingupthedim

corridor,rightto theother

end,shespiedtheempty

nursesstation.Theywere

probablyin thelittleroom

behindtheirdesk,makinga

midnightcuppa.Anotherbit

of luck.If herwardhadbeen

positioned at the other side