What became of us

The last time they had been up to A and E was when Chris had caught his foot in an animal trap on a night hike with the Cubs. Barry had held the bloodied limb in position for the X-ray, talking bravely to his son all the while, but when it was over, he had promptly fainted on the hard lino floor of the radiography room. Afterwards he had blamed the weight of the lead waistcoat they made him wear, but she had witnessed the greyness of apprehension on his face.
    ‘We’ll be OK,’ he said, ‘really.’
    ‘No, of course I’m coming, darling,’ she said.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘are you having a nice time?’
    ‘Not really,’ she said, ‘it was only going to be a picnic with the children today. I can do that any time. Anyway I saw them yesterday, briefly, so I don’t suppose Roy would mind.’
    She realized she was babbling. Stop talking, she told herself. Do not incriminate yourself.
    ‘I’ll get the first train I can. I’m going back to my room and turning my mobile back on. I seem to have switched it off by mistake,’ she explained. ‘Call me when you get home.’
    ‘Money’s running out again,’ he said.
    ‘Big kiss,’ she said into the dead phone.
    It felt so normal talking to him that she had almost managed to block out the world of deception she had created for herself but it returned as soon as she replaced the receiver. She didn’t know how to behave with the porter. She told herself it did not matter. Right now, all that mattered was George. She thought of the alabaster roundness of his sleeping face and a great welling of love rose inside her.
    ‘One of my children is ill,’ she told the porter, which wiped the knowing smirk off his face.
    ‘I am sorry. Anything I can do to help?’
    Don’t tell anyone about the man in my room, she J wanted to say, but knew that it would only add fuel to his speculations. Don’t volunteer information: she reminded herself of the advice she gave her clients.
    The right of silence had been undermined recently, but it was still usually the best way of protecting yourself.
    ‘No, thank you. We’ll be leaving right away.’
    For all he knew she might be divorced, or separated. Loads of people were. She tossed her head casually, feeling herself going red. She had always been useless at dissembling.
    ‘Of course,’ the porter said, in his irritating, knowing way.
    Oh, for heaven’s sake, she told herself as she hurried back across the quad, it’s no good blaming the porter.
    In her haste, she had left her key inside her room.
    She knocked.
    ‘Go away!’ Liam growled.
    ‘It’s me, let me in,’ she said.
    After a moment or two, he came to the door.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking at her expectantly.
    ‘What?’ She glanced behind her to see what he was getting at.
    ‘When I saw you gone, I thought you might have nipped out for coffee and croissants. There’s a Raymond Blanc patisserie next to Brown’s…’
    ‘George has been in Casualty,’ she said, pushing past him and starting to gather up her belongings.
    ‘Which one is he?’ he said.
    ‘My youngest,’ she said, picking up her mobile phone and switching it on only to hear the sharp bleep that said the battery was about to run out. Swearing she threw it back into the bag.
    ‘Your son George? I thought you...’
    ‘You thought what?’ she asked impatiently.
    ‘I thought you meant the television programme,’ he laughed and tried to put his arms around her. She shrugged him off.
    ‘Why would I race out at — ’ she looked at her watch ‘— nine in the morning, to get the latest on a long-running soap?’ The words shot out aggressively.
    He held up his hands in his defence. She realized that it was the first time he had seen her behaving like an angry grown-up woman rather than a simpering adolescent.
    ‘Excuse me!’ He put sarcastic emphasis on the second word.
    ‘I’ve got to go back,’ she said.
    ‘Nothing infectious, is it?’ he asked, shifting away from her.
    She looked at him with undisguised contempt, then rifled through her handbag and produced a timetable.
    ‘You’re going back now?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes!’ she screamed at him. Why was he being so thick? He had not even asked what was wrong with George.
    ‘Is there anywhere I could shower?’ he asked.
    ‘No. There isn’t time.’ Her eyes tried to make sense of the blur of numbers in front of her. ‘It’s Sunday, isn’t it? There’s one in forty minutes.’
    ‘Let me drive you,’