The Postcard: Escape to Cornwall with the perfect summer holiday read. Fern Britton

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       8

      ‘Can you hear me, Penny?’

      Penny didn’t want to open her eyes. Who was this person disturbing her?

      ‘Penny, love, my name is Sandra. I’m a paramedic. You’ve taken some pills.’

      Penny answered silently. Yes, I did, and now I’m sleeping. Stop tapping my hand.

      ‘Penny, stay with me. Can you say “Hello, Sandra”?’

      Penny mustered the words. ‘Hello, Sandra.’ There, satisfied?

      ‘What was that? You’re mumbling a bit.’

      Are you deaf? I’m trying to sleep.

      ‘Your husband’s here.’

      Oh shit.

      ‘He found you and called us. He’s very worried. How many pills did you take?’

      Not enough.

      ‘Penny, come on, stay with me.’ The patting on Penny’s arm was getting quite painful. She tried to pull her arm away but it was held fast.

      Now she heard Simon’s voice, anxious, ‘Penny, darling. They’re going to pop you in the ambulance and get you to hospital.’

      ‘Where’s Jenna?’ she managed to say.

      ‘Jenna’s OK. Don’t worry about Jenna,’ said the bloody Sandra woman again. ‘She’s with your friend.’

      Simon’s voice again, ‘Yes, she’s with Helen. I’m coming with you to hospital.’

      She quite liked the feeling of being manhandled onto a stretcher and carried down the stairs. She could at least keep her eyes closed and no one was asking any more silly questions. The ambulance was comfortable but still the bloody Sandra woman wouldn’t let her sleep.

      ‘Open your eyes for me, would you, Penny?’

      Bugger off, thought Penny.

      ‘Come on now, Penny, open your eyes for me, please.’ The woman started patting the back of Penny’s hand again.

      ‘What now?’ asked Penny, angrily opening her eyes.

      ‘That’s it, well done,’ said Sandra who immediately shone the brightest of lights into her eyes. She instantly shut them again.

      When she woke next, she was in a hospital bed feeling groggy. There was a canula in the back of her left hand attached to a drip. The room was quiet apart from the beep of what she assumed was a heart machine recording her pulse. She wasn’t dead, then.

      Simon was sitting in a plastic-covered armchair at the foot of the bed. He looked grey.

      ‘Hello,’ he said with a tired smile. He got up and came to the bed, bending down to kiss her forehead then her hand. He started to cry. ‘Oh, Pen. Why did you do it?’

      ‘What time is it?’ she asked him. Her throat was dry and her head ached.

      ‘Almost six.’

      ‘In the morning?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Have I been here all night?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Have you been here all night?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Thank you …’

      Outside, the corridor was already rustling into life. She heard a rattle of teacups as a trolley pushed closer to her room. It stopped at a door along from hers and she heard the squeak of soles on the rubber floor, a cheery voice. ‘Morning, Mrs Wilson. You ready for a cup of tea, my dear?’

      ‘Why did you do it?’ asked Simon again.

      She turned her head away from him and felt the pillow cool on her cheek. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Are things so bad that you wanted to leave Jenna and me?’

      ‘I just wanted to stop for a bit. I wanted everything to stop, just for a minute, and leave me be. I didn’t want to die, necessarily, just … stop … Stop.’

      ‘Did you think about me?’

      She thought and answered truthfully. ‘No.’

      He reached for his handkerchief and wiped his eyes before blowing his nose. ‘Don’t you love us any more?’

      She closed her eyes. ‘It’s not that. I just wanted to … I don’t know … just have a bit of peace. I was, am, so tired.’ She looked at him, tearfully. ‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

      ‘I’m not angry,’ he said a little angrily, ‘but I can’t bear the thought that you – that we – nearly lost you.’

      The door pushed open and a smiling nurse came in. ‘Good to see you awake, Mrs Canter. Mr Canter has been watching you all night.’

      ‘I know he has.’

      The nurse, whose name badge said Sister Mairi McLeod, busied herself with taking Penny’s blood pressure, temperature and pulse. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked.

      ‘OK,’ said Penny.

      ‘Got a headache, I expect?’

      Penny attempted humour. ‘Yes. Which is odd considering I took so many pills. You would have thought I’d have slept it off!’

      Sister Mairi frowned. ‘You took enough to kill yourself. It wasn’t funny for the team in A & E who had to get them out of you.’

      Penny was chastened. ‘Sorry.’ She glanced over at Simon, who was examining his hands. ‘When can I go home?’ Penny asked

      ‘After Dr Nickelson, the consultant psychiatrist, has assessed you.’

      Psychiatrist? ‘I’m fine,’ said Penny, panicking a little. ‘I just needed some sleep and now I want to go home to my daughter, she’s only a baby. I don’t need a psychiatrist.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m not mad.’

      Sister Mairi clicked the end of her Biro and began to write on the file of notes that hooked onto the end of the bed. Without looking up she said, ‘Let Dr Nickelson СКАЧАТЬ