The rest of the day came to me in snippets as I woke from troubled sleep. The pile of used tissues on my bedside table was growing without me remembering that I’d used them. The packet of painkillers was emptying just like the large bottle of water Dad must have placed by my bed. My duvets grew more and more damp.
And suddenly it was late afternoon. The last pink rays of the setting sun in the grey dusk behind my windows peeked through. Voices came in from the room next door.
“Dad?” I screeched. “Ruby?”
They came in at once, and there was a brief struggle in the door about who will get to enter first. It made me laugh a wheezy laugh straight from my heart.
My little girl jumped on the bed and put her hand on my forehead the way I would whenever she was poorly. “How do you feel Mummy?”
“A bit better actually,” I answered truthfully. Sleep has worked its magic and partly loosened the knot on my chest. My headache wasn’t as splintering anymore.
Ruby’s face gleamed. “So you’ll come fishing with us tomorrow?”
Dad’s birthday!
“We’ll see,” he said quickly. He swept away the dirty tissues from my bedside table and placed two boxes of Paracetamol in their place. “We went to the pharmacy. These were the last ones they had. I was actually surprised the lady behind the counter had sold me both of them.”
He was frowning at the pills as if it was their fault that people were starting to panic and stock up on useful things.
To stop him from worrying, or at least from talking about worrying, I asked Ruby about the trip they took. She was jumping on the bed, screaming at the top of her voice, and Dad and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was wonderful to see her so happy, so carefree and excited. How long will that last?
“At least you’re not coughing so much anymore,” Dad whispered to me later, so Ruby wouldn’t hear. Then he chased her away to bed, and before following her to read a bedtime story, he said: “Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
I fell asleep before I could think about his words.
I slowly woke up and stretched my arms and legs in delight. I must have slept for at least fourteen hours and I felt… good. I rolled the word on my tongue, testing it as if it was new, unused, almost foreign.
I sat up slowly and realised with surprise that I didn’t really need to cough, and my head was almost fine. Yesterday suddenly seemed like a distant memory. I still had chest pains and felt weak, but I was better.
What was that supposed to mean?
I didn’t really ask Mark for any details of the course of the illness, the idea of death was scary enough to add any precise details to it. Was some improvement normal? Or was it unusual?
And there it was… hope. What if I can fight the plague and get healthy…? What if the terrible state I was in yesterday had more to do with the cancer metastasizing to my lungs?
I didn’t have time to dwell on this dangerously uplifting thought, because Dad chose that moment to knock on my door and enter with a cup of hot tea. I smelled the herbs all the way from there.
He froze, smiling. “Are you feeling better?”
“Much better.” I nodded. “Great, actually!”
Great might have been an exaggeration, but compared to yesterday it was.
He sighed in relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. I was starting to worry that…”
The news must have really unsettled him. I didn’t doubt that he spent quite some time watching them again last night. What had they said? There must have been even more cases. When would the number get high enough for Dad to panic and not want to leave the house? What would he think about being stuck out of Australia?
“This is the best birthday present,” he smiled happily.
I got up and hugged him. “Happy birthday, Dad! I can’t wait for the trip today!”
He pulled away and looked at me quizzically. “Are you sure you’re well enough to come with us?”
I’d promised him a fishing trip for today, and mainly, that I would look after Ruby so he could enjoy the lake trip fully. I really did feel good enough to join them. “You bet.”
I was willing to break the safety procedures he was talking about the other day if it meant making Dad happy. Also, today we were meant to move out of this B&B and into a slightly different accommodation, and it was essential that I got the two of them there. The Collective had arranged a farm where they were supposed to wait out the pandemic. As far as I knew, the farm had been offering tourist accommodation for some time, providing an opportunity to experience life in the middle of New Zealand nature and life on a real farm. I would have liked the sound of that even in better circumstances, and now it seemed perfect. The photos reminded me of the old farm of my grandparents, who I used to go visit with Dad until only a few years ago. He didn’t mind the move, and I think his mind went down the memory lane too. He didn’t seem to notice the tall, sturdy-looking fence running around the majority of the estate, or the robust gate.
We headed into the port to meet Dad’s guide. A tall bearded guy greeted us and showed us the boat, along with all his fishing equipment. Dad loved it and then Ruby and I were affectionately kicked out so that they could set off.
We watched them until the boat became a tiny dot next to Mokoia Island. I couldn’t remember the last time Ruby and I had spent the day together alone. Dad was very much a part of her life, and even when I would have a whole weekday
