She was beautiful and she was alive. They had to cut her hair very short and it framed her bruised face, soft and silky on the white pillow. She had a line in her hand but no more tubes in her nostrils, no more oxygen mask. She lay in her hospital bed, the pillows raised a bit, her head leaning on one side. Rhona was sitting beside her. I walked in and she smiled, a little smile that was weak but very joyful, all at the same time. I sat down, unable to speak. I didn’t dare to touch her – I felt I might break her. ‘Jamie.’ Her voice was thin and soft. She was still smiling. ‘Eilidh …’ I wanted to say, ‘my love,’ but I couldn’t because Rhona was there and because I didn’t know how she’d react, I didn’t want to upset her. ‘I’m awake now.’ I smiled. ‘Yes, you are.’ ‘I thought I was dead.’ ‘No, no, thank God, no …’ I went to hold her hand and then I stopped in mid-air and just touched her wrist lightly, awkwardly, for a moment. She raised her hand and clasped mine.
