Emergency Echo by George Ivanoff Page B

With the drip attached to a tall metal stand that was wheeled along with her, the nurse guided her to the bathroom. It hurt to walk – a lot – but the nurse said it was necessary.
    Alice did another wee, which seemed to make the nurse rather happy indeed.
    Then Alice went back to sleep.

    Alice yawned. She was bored, lying in the hospital bed. Her hand absently inched up to her throat to play with the necklace, rolling the little gold nugget between her fingers.
    â€˜Did Dad have his appendix out?’ she asked suddenly.
    â€˜Huh?’ Grandad looked up from the book he was reading. ‘Your dad? No, he didn’t. I guess it skipped a generation.’ He chuckled. ‘Mind you, he did end up in hospital for lots of other reasons when he was a kid. Let’s see … Broken arm when he fell off a horse. Broken leg when he fell out of a tree. Stitches after he jumped into a lake and scraped himself on a branch. He was quite the adventurer, your dad. Hehated being in hospital. Even with his arm or leg in a cast, he was still off doing things. Nothing kept him quiet for long. Until …’ His voice trailed off.
    Alice’s eyes met Grandad’s and they shared a silent moment of grief.
    â€˜I miss him.’ Alice sighed.
    â€˜I do too, honey.’ Grandad stared off into the distance. ‘I do too. Life can be so unfair sometimes.’ There was a long pause before he looked at his granddaughter. ‘But sometimes it’s wonderful. You’re okay, and I’m very thankful for that. And every time I look at you, I see a bit of him looking back at me. I should think about that more often.’
    Alice nodded, eyes welling. She fought the tears, the sob that was caught in her throat and the memories of Dad’s last days.
    â€˜Be strong,’ he had said to her. ‘Be strong for your mother.’
    She had been. So strong. But now she realised that being strong meant locking him away, buried deep beneath other memories.
    With a rattling gasp, a floodgate suddenly opened and everything came pouring out. The memories. The bottled-up grief. The tears. The sobs. And the love she still felt for her absent father – her daddy.
    And then Grandad was next to her. Holding her. Stroking her hair and whispering, ‘No one can keep it in forever.’
    â€˜Lunch!’ a man pushing a trolley stopped outside the room. Alice and Grandad looked around, their moment together interrupted. ‘Everything okay?’ the man asked uncertainly as he saw Alice and Grandad.
    â€˜We’re fine,’ said Grandad. ‘Just having a bit of a cry.’
    â€˜Oh!’ The guy went on, hesitantly. ‘Are you ready for lunch … or would you like me to come back later?’
    Alice’s tummy rumbled.
    â€˜Now would be good,’ said Grandad, returning to his chair.
    â€˜Okay,’ said the man, not sounding entirely convinced. He carried in a tray with food under a metal lid, and put it down on the tray-table. He then pushed the table so that its base and wheels went under Alice’s bed, with the tabletop suspended over her bed, right in front of her.
    â€˜Thanks,’ she said, as he left. He seemed rather eager to get out of there.
    Alice lifted the lid to reveal a little plasticbowl of chicken soup, an orange juice and a tub of green jelly. She was disappointed.
    â€˜You’ve just had your guts operated on,’ said Grandad, leaning back in the chair. ‘You need to start slow.’
    Alice tucked in. It tasted good. She was so hungry that pretty much anything would have tasted delicious.
    â€˜I might go and get myself something,’ said Grandad. ‘Watching you eat is making me ravenous. You going to be okay on your own for a bit?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Alice. ‘And … thanks.’
    â€˜Anytime.’ He nodded and headed out.
    â€˜Grandad,’ Alice called after him. He stopped in the doorway to look back.