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Natalie

Time seems to stop for Natalie as the doctor steps out of the room, his face strained and sober.

There is no longer the screaming of the alarm coming from Erin’s room, and surely, surely that can only be a good thing?

Pete steps forward, but Natalie knows he is as terrified as she is, not just by the way his hand snakes out and grips hers tightly – so tightly she can feel her wedding ring cutting into her fingers.

She wants her pills, she thinks, suddenly longing for their chalky, bitter taste, her free hand going to her pocket as if she might magically find them there.

Two of those little white pills would make her strong enough to hear whatever Erin’s doctor has to say.

Forcing her feet to cross the short distance between the chair and the door of Erin’s room, Natalie feels as if she’s walkingthe green mile, knowing that whatever the doctor tells them in thenext few minutes will change their lives forever.

She can’t be gone . The thought flickers through her mind.

I would know. I would know if Erin wasn’t here any more.

Pete looks at the doctor, his hand still gripping Natalie tightly.

‘Is she …?’ He trails off, as if he can’t bear to say it out loud.

‘Erin’s going to be OK,’ The doctor says, glancing from Natalie to Pete.

‘She’s had some breathing issues, and we are concerned about pneumonia.

We’ve started her on an IV of antibiotics, and fluids as she’s dehydrated, but Erin is going to make a full recovery.

’

‘Thank God.’ Natalie closes her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

It’s as though something drops away, a load that Natalie wasn’t sure she could carry any longer.

She’s OK. She’s going to be OK.

Pete stumbles back, landing on the plastic seat of the hospital chair, and he leans forwards.

His elbows are on his knees as his hands cover his face and he cries in a way she’s never heard him cry before.

His shoulders heave and the sobs ripping from his throat are raw and guttural, a wave of pent-up emotion.

For a moment, Natalie can’t move, and then she kneels beside him, pulling him into her arms and murmuring in his ear until finally the sobs subside.

Pete pulls back, his eyes red, his cheeks flushed, and she has the weirdest sense of déjà vu – a flashback to the day Erin was born, and how they’d waited for her scream that didn’t come for the longest time.

That was the last time she saw Pete cry, she thinks.

When Erin’s yell had finally filled the room and they had ridden a wave of relief together, both of them giddy with happiness.

‘She’s going to be OK, Pete,’ Natalie whispers, tears darkening the denim of Pete’s jeans as sweet relief floods her veins.

‘She’s going to be OK. ’