I took a call from Bridget late that morning. The hospital had called her to tell her that Sarah was exhausted, having had daily physio for the past few days, and that she’d also been having a series of drug infusions, which had been really knocking her for six. As a consequence they’d all agreed that perhaps it would be counter-productive for Abby to go and visit her while she was so far from her best. ‘Given how distressing it was for them both last time,’ Bridget finished. ‘Sarah will call Abby tonight at some point, obviously. But we wondered if you could take her in on Sunday instead. Give Sarah a day to recover. If that’s not going to inconvenience you too much?’ ‘Not at all,’ I reassured her, thinking how, actually, it was just as well Jackson’s party had been cancelled, as fitting in both would have been something of a struggle. At the same time, my heart was plummeting towards my boots. Poor Abby. The one thing I knew was keeping her going was the knowledge that she would be seeing her mum again this afternoon.
