To the Moon and Back - By Jill Mansell Page 0,3

came out to find her in the relatives’ room fifteen minutes later. Making her way back into the intensive care unit where calm had been restored, Ellie saw the curtains drawn around the bed of the elderly man at the far end of the ward who’d been the center of attention earlier.

‘All sorted now, is he?’

The nurse said gently, ‘We lost him, I’m afraid.’

Lost him?

Did she mean the man was actually behind the curtains, dead ?

Oh no, that only happened on TV, at a safe distance. Not here, right in front of her, in real life.

‘Sit down, dear.’ The nurse deftly steered her on to the chair beside Jamie’s bed. ‘Take deep breaths and I’ll get you a glass of water. You have to be strong now.’

Strong? Ellie swallowed; she felt about as strong as a newborn kitten. Jamie was here on a ward where people died and every minute was more terrifying than the last. And she was wearing a Rocky Horror outfit that couldn’t be more inappropriate if it tried, but going home and changing into normal clothes was out of the question because she couldn’t leave Jamie…

Oh, Jamie, wake up, please just open your eyes and tell me everything’s going to be all right.

The dead man was placed in a covered metal trolley on wheels and removed from the unit by two porters. Two new patients arrived, a skeletal, yellow-tinged woman and a teenage boy. Relatives sobbed around their beds and looked strangely at Ellie in her jagged short skirt and fishnets. When none of the nurses had been looking she had kissed Jamie’s face but it hadn’t felt remotely like his face and now he had bits of giveaway glitter on his forehead and cheek.

‘Sorry about the glitter,’ Ellie told the nurse when she came back to do his vital signs.

‘It doesn’t matter a bit. We’ll just wipe it off with some damp cotton wool, shall we, so it doesn’t get into his eyes. Now, do you want me to see if we’ve got some spare clothes you can change into, or can you call a friend to bring something in?’

It still felt like the middle of the night, but the clock on the wall showed it was nine thirty. And it was light outside. With a jolt, Ellie realized she was supposed to be at work. Out in the real world, life was carrying on as if nothing had happened.

‘Um, I’ll call a friend.’

Outside again, she rang work. Paula answered the phone and let out a squeal of mock indignation. ‘You lazy bum, I had way more to drink than you last night and I managed to get in here on time!’

‘Oh, Paula, I’m at the hospital and I need you to h-help me…’

***

Hollow-eyed with lack of sleep and gripped with grief, Ellie stayed at Jamie’s bedside. The chemical antiseptic smell of the ward seeped into her skin. Doctors came and went. Various medical tests were carried out. Paula arrived in a taxi and floods of horrified tears, with a change of clothes and toiletries, and a hastily purchased Get Well card for Jamie signed by everyone at work. Not allowed into the unit, she clutched Ellie’s hands and kept sobbing, ‘You poor thing, I can’t believe it,’ and, ‘He’s going to be all right though, isn’t he?I mean, he’s not going to die?’

Numbly, Ellie submitted to the hugs. It was a relief when Paula finally unpeeled herself and left. All she wanted was to get back to Jamie and listen to the bips.

More hours passed, then the nurse came and told her that Todd was outside. This time, in lieu of family and because he was Jamie’s oldest and closest friend, the nurses agreed to let him on to the ward.

Ellie’s stomach clenched at the sight of Todd as he made his way over to the bed. There were cuts and bruises on his head and hands; kept in overnight for observation, he was limping but otherwise OK. He put his arms around her but she felt herself shrink away. She didn’t want to be touched and hugged; her skin was too sensitive. It was like having the flu, when it hurt to even brush your hair. How could two people be in the same car, in the same car crash, and one of them escape with scarcely any injuries at all?

It was unfair. So unfair. Fond though she was of Todd, what had he ever done to get off practically scot-free? Why did