What My Best Friend Did Read Online Free
You promise me you’re all right, Al?”
The crying in the background becomes louder, with renewed vigor—it’s a lusty, determined demand for attention and I can’t help but feel a moment of respect for my tiny, no doubt scarlet-faced, nephew.
“How the hell can you be awake already?” Frances says in disbelief. “I only fed you fifteen minutes ago.” She lets out a heavy, desperate sigh.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Fran,” I insist, “I’m fine. I can deal with this. You go.”
“If you’re sure?” I can hear the relief in her voice. “What’s happened to Gretchen anyway?”
Freddie cranks up the volume to a level that could break glass.
“Nothing, nothing major. I’ll call you later if I need to.”
“Just try Mum, OK?” she says guiltily. “She’ll know what to do. They might be back by now. If you get her, tell her to call me when you’re done, all right?”
“OK,” I say dully, a fresh tear trickling down my cheek, and then she hangs up without even saying good-bye. I want to dial her back straightaway and say, “Actually, I do need you. I’m frightened, Fran!” Instead, I dial my parents and begin to walk slowly down to the main doors. But just as Frances said, it rings and rings before eventually going to answerphone.
So I dial my younger brother Phil’s number. If he’s at home, he can go downstairs and tell them to plug the phone back in, that I want to speak to them. I suddenly very urgently need to talk to Mum or Dad—have someone tell me this is going to be all right because—
“This is Phil. I can’t come to the phone right now, I’m probably busy. And by busy, I mean out. And by out I mean having a smoke. You can leave a message, but no promises, all riiittttteeee?”
For a moment I can see exactly how Phil can drive my dad into a rage in under five seconds flat. What kind of recorded message is that, given that prospective graduate employers might be calling him? He won’t even get an interview, never mind a job. I just hang up and drop my phone into my bag in defeat.
I glance desperately up at the black sky and try to calm myself down. There are no stars, and no navigation lights of planes visible either. I can hear one, distantly buried in the thick cloud above my head. I can’t see it, but I wish I were on it, going somewhere, anywhere, away from here.
I bring my head down and look at my watch. Has it been twenty minutes yet? Tom must be nearly here by now. Could he have parked and slipped in another door? Perhaps he’s up there already. I don’t want him walking into Gretchen’s room on his own.
I hurriedly clatter up the disabled ramp leading to the ER, arms tightly wrapped around myself. The persistent wind is managing to bite at my very bones, but before I can plunge back into the stifling warmth of the hospital, the mechanism of the automatic double doors yanks into action and a mother and daughter begin to slowly hobble through. I have to stand to one side to let them pass. The daughter supports the mother, who leans heavily on her and a crutch. She’s perspiring with the effort, even though it’s freezing, and is clutching furiously at her daughter’s hand. I glance at her heavily bandaged foot and notice two unattractive purple toes peeking out at the top, adorned with fat blobs of coral polish. “Well done, Mum,” the daughter says kindly. “Dad’s just bringing the car around. Nearly there.”
The mother glances up to thank me for waiting and her eyes widen briefly as she takes me in. I catch sight of my reflection in the glass and raise a hand self-consciously to my jaw, twisting my face slightly so I can get a better look. There is nothing obviously untoward, just my pale, makeup-smudged face; red eyes and nose attractively set off by my long, unstyled dark hair, but she’s right—I’m in a state. My baggy tracksuit bottoms and old hoodie top complete the look, but then, I thought I had a night in front of the TV
The crying in the background becomes louder, with renewed vigor—it’s a lusty, determined demand for attention and I can’t help but feel a moment of respect for my tiny, no doubt scarlet-faced, nephew.
“How the hell can you be awake already?” Frances says in disbelief. “I only fed you fifteen minutes ago.” She lets out a heavy, desperate sigh.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Fran,” I insist, “I’m fine. I can deal with this. You go.”
“If you’re sure?” I can hear the relief in her voice. “What’s happened to Gretchen anyway?”
Freddie cranks up the volume to a level that could break glass.
“Nothing, nothing major. I’ll call you later if I need to.”
“Just try Mum, OK?” she says guiltily. “She’ll know what to do. They might be back by now. If you get her, tell her to call me when you’re done, all right?”
“OK,” I say dully, a fresh tear trickling down my cheek, and then she hangs up without even saying good-bye. I want to dial her back straightaway and say, “Actually, I do need you. I’m frightened, Fran!” Instead, I dial my parents and begin to walk slowly down to the main doors. But just as Frances said, it rings and rings before eventually going to answerphone.
So I dial my younger brother Phil’s number. If he’s at home, he can go downstairs and tell them to plug the phone back in, that I want to speak to them. I suddenly very urgently need to talk to Mum or Dad—have someone tell me this is going to be all right because—
“This is Phil. I can’t come to the phone right now, I’m probably busy. And by busy, I mean out. And by out I mean having a smoke. You can leave a message, but no promises, all riiittttteeee?”
For a moment I can see exactly how Phil can drive my dad into a rage in under five seconds flat. What kind of recorded message is that, given that prospective graduate employers might be calling him? He won’t even get an interview, never mind a job. I just hang up and drop my phone into my bag in defeat.
I glance desperately up at the black sky and try to calm myself down. There are no stars, and no navigation lights of planes visible either. I can hear one, distantly buried in the thick cloud above my head. I can’t see it, but I wish I were on it, going somewhere, anywhere, away from here.
I bring my head down and look at my watch. Has it been twenty minutes yet? Tom must be nearly here by now. Could he have parked and slipped in another door? Perhaps he’s up there already. I don’t want him walking into Gretchen’s room on his own.
I hurriedly clatter up the disabled ramp leading to the ER, arms tightly wrapped around myself. The persistent wind is managing to bite at my very bones, but before I can plunge back into the stifling warmth of the hospital, the mechanism of the automatic double doors yanks into action and a mother and daughter begin to slowly hobble through. I have to stand to one side to let them pass. The daughter supports the mother, who leans heavily on her and a crutch. She’s perspiring with the effort, even though it’s freezing, and is clutching furiously at her daughter’s hand. I glance at her heavily bandaged foot and notice two unattractive purple toes peeking out at the top, adorned with fat blobs of coral polish. “Well done, Mum,” the daughter says kindly. “Dad’s just bringing the car around. Nearly there.”
The mother glances up to thank me for waiting and her eyes widen briefly as she takes me in. I catch sight of my reflection in the glass and raise a hand self-consciously to my jaw, twisting my face slightly so I can get a better look. There is nothing obviously untoward, just my pale, makeup-smudged face; red eyes and nose attractively set off by my long, unstyled dark hair, but she’s right—I’m in a state. My baggy tracksuit bottoms and old hoodie top complete the look, but then, I thought I had a night in front of the TV
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