The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch

CHAPTER 26

‘Do people always ask you for directions?’

I nod. ‘Yes, all the time.’

Once our hour (and a half) had passed, we decided to leave the house in search of more substantial food and a bit of fresh air. We had walked for less than five minutes when someone asked me for directions.

‘So, it’s a common occurrence?’

I nod, again. ‘Yep. Pretty common.’

‘If it happens a lot, don’t you think at some point you should learn how to read a map?’

Oh no. ‘Did I send her off in the wrong direction?’

He nods. ‘Totally wrong.’

I hit him playfully on the arm. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Because you sounded so confident that I also started to believe you.’

‘Oh god.’ I look around in case she is close enough for me to tell her I made a mistake. Alas, she is quite the speed walker. I would have to run to catch up to her, and that seems unnecessary. ‘We better get off this road in case we bump into her again.’

At this point my phone rings. My phone rings less frequently than I would like to admit, so it takes me a while to realize what’s happening. If it’s my mother I will definitely be letting her go to voicemail.

It isn’t my mother. It’s Sara. Sara never rings on the weekend.

‘Paige. Oh thank god.’ I stop walking. I know something is wrong. There is panic in her voice.

‘He’s hit his head and broken his arm and he might have a concussion and his neck is in a brace.’

‘What? Who? What happened?’

‘He was playing football. If you can even call it football. I can’t believe this has happened. He’s five. He can barely even run properly, none of them can. This shouldn’t have happened. He didn’t even try to move out of the way of the ball. He just stood there. He said he got distracted by dinosaurs. What an idiot. Oh god, don’t tell anyone I just called him an idiot.’

I deduce that she is talking about her child, Henry, not her husband. ‘What can I do? Where are you?’

Noah’s face is furrowed with concern. I mouth, ‘It’s OK,’ to him.

‘Stupid Nick has gone to his stupid mother’s house.’ I can hear Orla in the background saying something like, ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say about Granny.’ Sara ignores her. ‘Are you busy?’

I look at Noah. I know he can hear everything that Sara is saying. I feel, and probably look, a bit guilty when I reply. ‘Not at all. Tell me what you need.’

‘Can you come and get Orla? And watch her for the afternoon? I’m not sure what time we’ll be done here.’

‘Of course.’

Forty minutes later, I, with Noah trailing behind, walk towards where the nurse directed us. I don’t hate hospitals, I refuse to be that irrational, but the smell of paper towels, a smell that seems to permeate every hospital I have ever been in, makes me feel nauseous and there is nothing I can do about it. I try to ignore it and keep walking; maybe if I walk fast enough, I will be able to smell roses. Or at least something that doesn’t remind me of chemo.

Despite the clear directions, I am not confident I have gone the right way. I start heading left, but Noah pulls me back to the right.

‘I think we need to go this way.’

I change course. ‘You didn’t have to come with me, you know. I could do this on my own. You can go do something fun with what remains of your weekend.’ I feel like he’s been following me and cleaning up after my mess for the last twenty-four, going on thirty-six, hours.

‘It makes sense for me to be here. Besides, you’d be in Pathology right now if it wasn’t for me.’

I cast a glance back at him. ‘You’re not wrong there.’ Something makes me look down. I stop mid-stride and pull over to the side of the corridor. ‘Oh shit.’

Noah looks at me. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘My jumper. It says “Good Times” on it.’ I knew I should have worn a dress.

‘Take it off?’

‘I’m only wearing a vest underneath.’

‘You can wear my jumper. I’m not that cold.’

I don’t think twice. I just start stripping. ‘Are you sure?’ He better be sure, I don’t strip for no reason.

I extricate my face and see that he is already holding out his jumper for me to wear. How did he do that?

I don’t think too much about it before taking it from him. ‘Thank you.’ I shrug it on and stuff my own jumper into my bag, before we set off again and round what I hope is the final corner. I see Sara down the corridor. She’s on her phone, pacing. I walk quickly towards her. When she sees me, she hangs up and we hug a hello.

‘How is he?’

‘He’s OK. His neck is fine, I think they are just waiting to see what to do with his arm.’ She squeezes me a bit tighter. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Of course.’

At this point, her eyes drift behind me. I haven’t introduced Noah. I didn’t even tell her that I was bringing him. To be fair, I didn’t think I was.

Her whole body tilts so she can get a better view, and pushes me slightly out of the way. ‘Hello.’ She holds her hand out to Noah. ‘I’m Sara, and you are?’

I need to control this situation. I don’t know what Noah will introduce himself as. I don’t want him to use the wrong term. A term that Sara might take incorrectly. I step back in front of him and push down her hand.

‘Sara, this is Noah. He is …’ Fuck. What is he? I wanted to control the messaging, but I don’t know what message I want to put out. Why didn’t I just stop talking after I said his name? ‘He is … a doctor.’ If you had asked someone to look after one child, whilst your other child was lying in hospital with a broken bone, and that someone brought a stranger with them, surely the only way the situation could be OK is if the stranger was a doctor?

And what I said wasn’t a lie. Noah is a doctor.

Once again, Sara turns her attention to Noah, the doctor. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Dr Noah. I’m Sara, Paige’s friend.’ Once again, she holds out her hand for him to shake.

‘It’s nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

Her eyebrows rise. ‘Oh, have you?’

‘Good things, only good things, I promise.’ Noah flashes his dazzling smile, but I don’t think Sara cares what stories I have told about her. She only cares about the fact I haven’t told her stories about Noah.

I smile too. Mine is less dazzling and more of an attempt to relay a secret message. That message being, ‘I promise to explain later.’

‘So he’s really doing OK?’

This snaps her out of her Noah haze.

‘I think so – I think he’s OK. I haven’t actually seen a doctor in a while. They said someone would be here about twenty minutes ago, but I’m sure they’ll come soon.’

‘This I can probably help with. What is your last name?’

‘Appleby.’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

As soon as he turns to leave, Sara faces me.

‘Who is he?’

‘Noah.’ I say this as innocently as I can manage.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Well, I gathered that. How do you know him? When did you meet him? Why are you with him on a Sunday?’

‘I will answer all your questions. But not right now.’

‘OK, well, can you answer one?’

One seems fair. ‘OK, but just one.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘A while.’

‘A while? Why haven’t you said anything before?’

‘Because I didn’t want you to read anything into it.’

‘So were you together last night?’

‘Yes.’

She squints her eyes at me. ‘Are you wearing his jumper?’

‘Maybe’ – I hold up my index finger – ‘but only because mine was inappropriate.’

‘And you were still together when I called you this morning?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you stayed the night?’

I squirm. She can read me well.

She looks shocked. ‘He stayed over at your house?’

‘He might have done.’

‘Is he good in bed? Because I can imagine that he is good in bed. He has a very good handshake.’

‘You can’t tell what someone is like in bed from their handshake.’

‘You most certainly can.’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘Do you like him?’

‘I said you could have one question and you’ve had about a hundred. No more questions for you.’ I look around. ‘Besides, he’s coming back.’

Sara smiles in his direction, but says through her teeth, ‘Well, I like him.’

When Noah reaches us, he gently touches my arm. I don’t have to look at her to know that Sara just swooned a bit.

‘The doctor’s just on his way. He’s late because he consulted with another orthopaedic surgeon. Basically, I think they are going to try to fix his arm without surgery.’

If possible, she swoons even more. ‘Oh Noah, thank you.’

From a distance, I can hear Orla’s voice calling for Sara.

‘Coming! Sorry, I better—’ She points in the direction of the voice and leaves us.

I look towards her. ‘She will love you for ever for that.’ And then I face Noah. ‘Really, you can go. You don’t have to stay.’

‘Well, I was thinking … I imagine they’ll try to see Henry quickly so he doesn’t have to sleep over. I wondered if you might consider using my house to babysit Orla.’ I inhale, preparing my – kind but negative – response. ‘It will cut down on the travel time and inconvenience.’

I stop before I start talking. My apartment is two tube changes away, and Orla is epically shit on the tube. She flings her body all over the place and almost always falls down the escalator. And she never, ever minds the gap.

But Noah’s house is within walking distance.

‘I’d have to clear it with Sara.’

‘Of course.’ He keeps the smile off his face, but I sense a hint of one. I let him have it, mainly because of the way he helped Sara.

After the doctor confirmed what Noah already said, we decided (well, Orla dictated) to go get ice cream before heading back to Noah’s flat for a movie. I had worried that I wouldn’t know how to entertain Orla for a long period of time, but it turns out I didn’t need to. She flirted with Noah the whole time. At one point she was practically swinging off his arm.

I thought about holding her back, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, by the looks of things he loved it. He even prolonged the walk to his apartment. Neither Noah nor Orla were happy when I dragged them away from the playground to grab some actual dinner.

We’re now back at his. We’ve been fed, we’ve been watered, and Orla is having a nap on his bed. He scooped her off the couch and tucked her in. My womb did weep a little at that.

After tucking Orla in, we stopped the movie, feeling a little odd about watching it without a child present, and have opted to watch design shows instead. True crime seemed a little grisly with a kid in the house. My head on Noah’s lap, I’m almost asleep when he starts speaking.

‘I’ve come up with the perfect name for your boobs.’

I had completely forgotten about the naming of the boobs.

‘One’s called Jean—’

‘Jean?’ I can’t keep the scepticism out of my voice. Jean is not a name I would associate with a boob.

‘Wait for it. And the other is Grey.’

‘Jean Grey?’

‘Yes. Like the superhero. She’s complicated and beautiful. And, like a phoenix she rises from the ashes.’

I’m too tired to object, so I nod an acceptance with my eyes closed and keep drifting towards sleep, snuggling closer to him. ‘Whatever makes you happy.’