Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [22]
Even on All Saints stuff happens. But all the excitement must occur behind those big rubber doors hospitals have, because where I'm sitting nothing is happening – there's just a row of chairs in front of a TV, and a water cooler, and several old people and a few mums with toddlers. Nobody has a bomb in their abdomen. I don't see any conjoined twins. There's no amusing wordplay.
There's no shouting to be heard over the wailing of people with unusual medical conditions, or even over the storeroom lovemaking. I definitely don't see any of that. I don't think I would want to because there are no gorgeous doctors. The doctor who came to ask me about Declan was a short, Egyptian-looking, older guy with a little mo. He looked more like Hercule Poirot than McDreamy. Very disappointing.
Dr Poirot thinks that Declan is my brother and Bryce Cole is our dad. We fill in forms and he asks us some questions about Declan's collapse.
'And what had Declan been eating or drinking?'
I look at Bryce Cole, glad that my mother was too traumatised to come along. She still hasn't said anything about me going to the track, either. She's been distracted.
I tell Dr Poirot about the shandy.
He asks me if there were other symptoms that I know of, so I tell him about Declan's dry mouth, blurred vision, fatigue and weight loss. Dr Poirot nods and takes his clipboard away.
'What's wrong with him?' I call after him.
Dr Poirot stops. 'Looks like he had a hypo. Have you heard of hypoglycaemia? He would have been better off if he'd finished that shandy. I have to do more tests, but I strongly suspect your brother has diabetes.'
'Declan really is sick?'
He will be so thrilled. I'm glad it's not cancer.
Bryce Cole is reading a magazine. He looks happy. I'm wondering why he's so pleased with himself, so I ask. I shouldn't have. One of the things I liked about him the most was the fact that he didn't say anything.
Bryce Cole tells me that for his whole life what he's really wanted is to live in a big house with a beautiful wife and a pair of healthy kids. Then he shoots me this look, and it creeps me right out, because it's true. He's just slipped into Dad's place – except for the sleeping with Mum, which may come along in time. I don't know.
I turn to Bryce Cole when I'm in trouble. I hardly even think about my dad really. Bryce Cole is a hero because he gave me money to play with at the track, and he gave Mum that money to get the debt collectors off her back.
Bryce Cole has bought us.
10
WAITING
Declan is beside himself with delight. He couldn't be happier if the doctors had told him he had Ebola. In fact, from Declan's point of view, diabetes is even better than Ebola.
I huff. 'Declan, you're not allowed to make yourself collapse all the time.'
He grins. 'Did you know I have to have injections every day?'
Declan will enjoy giving himself needles. It's painful and tragic, and at the same time a bit gross, which sums him up, really.
'Guess what else? I'm not allowed to drink beer, so I don't have to pretend to like it.'
'Goody for you.'
He wriggles in the bed, getting comfortable. He's wearing one of those blue hospital smocks and it suits him. I'm wondering if he'll be allowed to take it home. They've washed his guyliner off and he looks sicker.
Declan says, 'Now comes the part where you have to admit that you were always wrong and I was always right.'
My mouth drops open. 'That is so unfair! I have always supported you.'
He narrows his eyes. 'You humoured me, but you never truly believed. Get me some water, will you?' He holds out his plastic cup. There's a tag around his wrist with his name on it, and it freaks me out. It's a label in case he gets lost, like a dog, or in case they forget which patient he is