Page 3 of See the Stars

The history of astronomy is a history of receding horizons.

EDWIN HUBBLE

A lice smelled something. Something meaty.

A burger? No. Spicier. A burrito perhaps.

The discarded dregs of someone’s lunch from the place across the road.

The smell, appealing when fresh and often her Friday treat, made her retch a little when it mingled with whatever else had been on the pavement.

What was she doing on the ground? She tried to sit up, but her body didn’t cooperate. She could feel the texture of the paving stones imprinting on the back of her head, which seemed unfeasibly heavy and throbbed with pain. Unable to move, she looked up.

The moon looked back.

‘Had one too many, eh? Easily done.’ A man’s head loomed over her, blocking her view of the sky.

‘Had a couple more than I should have myself,’ he added.

Alice could smell stale beer on his breath, adding to her nausea.

‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing her hand a little too tightly. ‘I’ll look after you.’

‘No,’ said Alice, her voice louder than she expected as she tried to pull her hand from his. She heard footsteps on the street, then more faces appeared overhead.

‘You all right there?’ Another man’s face, younger this time, looked at her with concern. A woman was next to him. ‘You know this man?’

‘No,’ repeated Alice. The two faces glanced at each other, then the first man disappeared from her view with a grunt.

‘Let’s get you up and into a taxi,’ said the younger man. ‘You know your address?’

‘Of course,’ said Alice, grateful for the help. But the words came out funny. Slurred, as if she had been drinking. She tried to sit up again and found that the right side of her body didn’t seem under her control. What was happening to her?

The man frowned. ‘How much have you had? I’m not sure a taxi will take you.’

‘She’ll be fine in a bit,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘She probably just needs a minute.’

‘I need an ambulance,’ said Alice, as calmly as she could manage given the situation.

‘What?’

‘Ambulance.’ The word felt weird in her mouth, like cotton wool. ‘Ambulance,’ she tried again, wondering why a word needed when she was least able to talk was so complicated. ‘Doctor,’ she tried, testing the simpler syllables. Even that didn’t come out right.

‘You just rest,’ said the woman.

‘She doesn’t look good,’ said the man, frowning at her.

‘Alice?’ Alice looked up. Keith’s face was there. ‘What happened?’

‘You know her?’ asked the man, looking relieved to be able to delegate responsibility.

‘She’s had a few too many,’ contributed the woman.

‘No she hasn’t,’ said Keith. ‘She’s been in the office all evening.’ Alice tried to blink as concerned eyes looked into hers.

Her right eyelid didn’t move. She felt panic flood through her. None of this felt real. One minute she’d been in the office, now she was lying on the pavement unable to move. She tried to cry out, but now no sound came at all.

‘Don’t worry, Alice,’ said Keith, his voice gentle. ‘I’m calling an ambulance.’

All the heads disappeared from view. Alice lay there unable to do anything other than look at the sky.

It calmed her a little, knowing that amidst all this chaos, the sky was still there.

The brightness of the moon made it harder to see the stars, but even with the glare, she could just make out the Pegasus constellation.

She mouthed its name as she searched for the individual stars; her anchor points when she felt at sea.

‘Just relax,’ she heard Keith’s voice say. ‘Don’t try to talk.’

Alice lost all sense of time lying on the pavement.

She was aware of a coat being flung over her body, a makeshift blanket.

Vaguely she wondered where her phone was.

What time was it? Would Hugo be worried?

The stars flitted in and out of her awareness, but she wasn’t sure if it was caused by clouds or her own lack of consciousness.

A panicked siren rose up, and blue flashing lights assaulted her eyes.

‘At last,’ said Keith. ‘The ambulance.’

‘Hello, Alice.’ The doctor was perched at the edge of Alice’s bed, holding his clipboard. ‘How are you today?’

Alice looked at him. He was familiar, he’d treated her yesterday, but she couldn’t remember his name.

What should she say to that question? She searched her foggy brain for the right words.

The doctor was looking at her, waiting. She shifted in her bed, uncomfortable in the polyester hospital gown but oh so relieved to be able to move again.

She didn’t remember getting changed. Where was her coat?

Hugo wasn’t in the room, but he’d been there, she was sure he had.

Was he getting tea? She reached to her bedside table, but her phone wasn’t there.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d checked it.

How many emails would be waiting for her when she did?

The doctor was still looking at her, waiting.

She moved her lips carefully, trying to ensure the word came out correctly.

‘Fine,’ she managed, listening to the sound of her own voice.

In her head, it sounded right. He nodded acknowledgement, and she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling she’d passed a test.

‘The ultrasound confirmed my suspicions,’ he told her. ‘You had a transient ischaemic attack.’

Alice looked at him blankly. Her head hurt and she wasn’t sure if it was caused by the bang when she’d fallen, the doctor’s cryptic words or the feeling that her skull was several sizes too small for her brain.

‘It’s like a mini stroke,’ explained the doctor. ‘You were treated quickly,’ he went on, ‘and unlike a full stroke, there shouldn’t be any permanent brain damage.’

‘Brain damage?’ echoed Alice. The words felt far away from her, as if she had to travel light years to reach them.

‘Hopefully not. The brain has an amazing capability to heal itself.’ He smiled at her.

‘Try not to worry. You should make a full recovery.’ He paused, as if expecting Alice to say something, but she couldn’t think of a reply.

‘You’ll need to make some lifestyle changes, though,’ he added, glancing at her chart again.

‘Lifestyle changes?’ Alice was aware that she was repeating words back to him like a parrot, but seeking ones of her own seemed too difficult.

‘Yes. I’m going to prescribe some medications to thin your blood and lower your cholesterol, but the most important things you’ll need to do for yourself. You smoke?’

‘Trying to quit,’ said Alice slowly, the familiar phrase coming to her more easily.

‘Drink?’

‘Some.’

‘Stress?’

‘That’s why I drink,’ she quipped, pleased she was able to joke, even at a time like this.

The doctor didn’t seem amused. ‘I think it would be best if you quit. Ideally no cigarettes at all, and cut down on the alcohol and the caffeine.’

‘Caffeine?’

‘Yes. Anything that heightens your blood pressure. Eat healthily, light exercise, try to relax. I’ve got a leaflet here, and the hospital can offer some support. And you’ll need to take it easy while you recover.’

Alice tried to nod, but the motion hurt. ‘I’ll take tomorrow off,’ she said.

‘You need much more than tomorrow off,’ said the doctor, looking up from his clipboard. ‘I’d like to keep you in hospital for three days to monitor you, and I’ll sign you off work for four weeks. You’ll need to rest in that time and gradually rebuild your strength.’

‘Four weeks?’ said Alice. She imagined the work that would build up in that time, the mountains of emails she’d return to. ‘That’s for ever!’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘It’s a month. And it really is important that you take the time to recover.’

Alice didn’t say anything, too tired to argue. It hurt to even think. Was that a symptom? How could she relax if she couldn’t smoke? And who would pick up the reports that needed to go out? Everyone was at capacity.

‘You’ve been lucky,’ said the doctor, interrupting her thoughts.

‘I don’t feel very lucky,’ managed Alice. A full sentence. Progress.

‘You’ve had a warning. And now you can take the rest that you need, and make those changes we talked about.’

‘Easier said than done,’ said Alice, pleased to fish that phrase from her memory.

‘Not everyone gets this chance,’ replied the doctor. ‘I recommend that you take it.’

Alice counted the beeps. ‘It’s reassuring, isn’t it?’ she said to Hugo, who was sitting by her hospital bed the next day. Talking already felt more natural, as if her words had settled back into their regular orbit. ‘Hearing the sound of your own heart. It’s like having proof that you’re alive.’

He nodded, looking at her with a worried expression.

‘I know it’s not really the sound of my heart, though,’ continued Alice.

‘That’s far too subtle a sound. It’s a digital reproduction, of course.

But it’s nice.’ She smiled at her use of long words.

She was starting to feel more herself again.

At times, anyway. ‘Maybe I should wheel this machine around with me wherever I go.’

‘Your watch tracks your heart rate,’ said Hugo. ‘Remember? I bought it for you last month.’

‘Oh,’ said Alice. ‘Of course.’ There it was, on the dresser next to her. She felt a moment’s panic that she’d forgotten. Was this a symptom?

‘It doesn’t always make a noise, though,’ offered Hugo. ‘If that’s what you meant.’

‘Yes,’ said Alice, gratefully. ‘That is what I meant.’ Their conversation faded into silence, punctuated by the beeping. She listened to it for a moment. ‘How’s Basalt?’ she asked, to take her mind from her worries.

‘He’s annoyed to be stuck with just me,’ said Hugo. ‘I know, because he peed in my trainer again.’

‘Did you . . . ’

‘ . . . realise before I put my foot in? Not this time. I’d let my guard down.’

Alice chuckled. Hugo smiled at her. ‘Even worse, I was wearing those socks your mother sent me for Christmas.’

‘We’ll not tell her,’ said Alice. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go for that visit.’ Hugo had called her mother to let her know what had happened, and now somehow a trip to Yorkshire had been planned for when Alice came out of hospital.

‘The doctor thought it would do you good,’ Hugo reminded her. ‘And although the circumstances aren’t what I’d want, it’s about time I met her.’

‘You speak to her on the phone all the time.’

‘In person! She is my future mother-in-law, after all.’

‘Let’s stay in London. There’s nothing to do up there.’ Alice didn’t like to go home. There were too many memories, too many reminders of the mistakes she’d made.

‘Nothing is what you’re meant to be doing,’ said Hugo. ‘Remember?’

‘I’ll do London nothing next week,’ said Alice. ‘Maybe visit a gallery, drink a smoothie, go to a yoga class . . . ’

‘You’ve never been to a yoga class. And your Nutribullet is still in the box.’

‘I’ve never had nothing to do before,’ countered Alice. ‘Perhaps if I just—’

‘No,’ said Hugo.

‘What?’

‘You were going to suggest popping into the office, weren’t you?’

‘No,’ lied Alice. ‘I was going to suggest . . . ’ She hesitated, fishing for something. ‘Baking sourdough,’ she managed.

They both chuckled at that, then settled into silence.

Hugo started scrolling through his phone.

Alice felt a little pang, wishing she had her own phone.

It was in her drawer. She’d promised Hugo that she wouldn’t check her emails, or look at the markets, while she recovered.

She looked at the heart rate monitor instead. ‘Seventyfive beats a minute,’ she said.

‘That’s a good resting heart rate,’ he said. ‘But . . . ’ He put down his phone. ‘You will do what the doctor recommended?’ he asked, his voice earnest now. ‘Take it easy?’

‘Of course,’ said Alice. ‘No marathons, I promise.’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Hugo. ‘Proper time off work, once we’re back. Quit smoking, the whole shebang. I’ll take some time off too, so I can look after you at home.’

‘What about the kids? It’s term time.’

‘It’s your life .’

Alice bit her lip. Sitting around in the flat all day.

Hugo fussing over her. Drinking lots of water and blitzing up fruit and flaxseed.

It should appeal, should be what she needed.

But the prospect of doing nothing filled her with dread.

‘I’ve already had a bit of a rest in the hospital,’ she said.

‘After I get back from Mum’s, it wouldn’t hurt to—’

‘Four weeks,’ insisted Hugo. ‘You might as well – it will be on full pay.’

‘It’s not just the money,’ said Alice. But it was, wasn’t it? That was why she did this job, that was why they all did it.

No. For her, it was more. The momentum kept her going, pushing her through her days. If she stopped, she’d be left alone with her thoughts.

Thoughts she didn’t want to think.

But she couldn’t say that to Hugo. She could barely say it to herself. She felt stress building inside her, a gentle humming sound invading her brain.

She glanced at the monitor. It had climbed to ninety. She took a breath, then coughed. Hugo took her hand, accidentally pulling on the cannula leading out of her vein. She winced, but he didn’t notice. ‘I love you too much to see you fall apart,’ he told her.

‘I’m hardly falling apart,’ replied Alice, feeling a little insulted. She removed her hand and adjusted the cannula. Then she took in Hugo’s hurt expression. She’d ignored the first part of what he’d said. The bit that mattered.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I love you too.’