Literary Indulgence

Chapter 3

Madeleine’s snore caught in the back of her throat, and I heard the springs groan as she sat up suddenly.

“Are you awake, Dee?”

“Yes.”

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

My eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Mads, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” Her voice sounded guarded.

“That we’ve made a big mistake.”

There was silence from below. An expert now at contorting in small spaces, I leaned down, inverting my head towards her. “Mads?”

“Why, Dee? Because the sea’s a bit rough?”

“A bit rough! No, it’s not that, it’s just… the whole thing is… crazy. Why are we here?”

“No, it’s not crazy. We’re meant to come.”

“Really. Please don’t tell me: ‘It’s our destiny.’”

“But it is.”

I leaned further over the bunk’s rail, “Oh Mads, come off it. Based on what? A letter we don’t understand. A small piece of marble that could be a chip off a headstone – a warning!”

Silence again, then the creaking springs as she got out of bed. She staggered to the bathroom trying to maintain her balance as the boat lurched sideways. As she shut the door, I was left in the darkness. I flipped on my back, feeling guilty that I was all but blaming my sister. After all, I was the one who had organised this trip.

* * *

Outside the bookshop, I had paused to consider my next move and stepped aside to allow a mother with a baby in a pram to pass me on the narrow footpath. Tucking the Lonely Planet guide under one arm, I walked behind them, trying to prevent my thoughts from taking their familiar diversion into bleakness. Instead, the bright fluorescent lights of a travel agency drew me in and a friendly glance invited me to the counter. A young woman whose name tag read Karen finished tapping at the keyboard and swivelled to give me her attention.

“I’m thinking of going to Greece,” I said.

“Return?”

And then, surprising myself again, I answered: “One way.”

* * *

When I told Madeleine what I had done, her reaction caught me by surprise.

“You’re leaving next Friday!” she said, unable to disguise the disappointment in her voice. She had been my constant companion in the preceding months, almost my carer.

“But you’re the one who suggested I go,” I reminded her.

“Yes…” Madeleine studied her fingernails.

“Oh, and by the way…” I tapped the table and spoke to her hands. “If you can arrange the time, there’s a ticket on hold for you, too.”

“Are you kidding?”

I smiled at the memory of that moment.

“No, I’m not kidding,” I said and touched her fingers. “I just want to thank you. You’ve been really great, Mads, and I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“You’re my sister.” Her eyes looked dangerously moist.

“So that’s a yes?” I said, as I went into the kitchen. I took a deep breath as I filled the kettle.

“Mm, let me think…” Madeleine called across the kettle’s hum. “If you insist.”

“I do.” I smiled into the two cups in my hand. “Your passport’s still valid?”

Her head appeared around the kitchen doorway. “Yes… I’ve got to go.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Home… to pack!”

* * *

In the bathroom cubicle, I could hear Madeleine cursing the paltry toilet flush. When she opened the door, the light was like the flash of a camera capturing my misery on the top bunk of a dying ferry.

She rummaged through her suitcase without speaking and returned to the bathroom, shutting off the light again in a clear statement of irritation. Blindly, I reached to the panels above my nose and gave them an equally irritated shove. My thoughts returned to the days before our departure. Although I had been putting it off, finally I made the telephone call I had been dreading.

“Dana… how are you?”

My eyes smarted at the sound of Ruth’s voice. As chief of staff, she’d had a tough time during my court case. She’d never wavered in her support of me, despite the media’s attempts to blacken the hospital’s reputation. I had to compress my lips before replying.

“I’m well,” I replied then came quickly to the point. “Ruth, I need time…”

Before I could finish, her soothing voice slid between us.

“Of course… I agree. How long would you like?”

I hesitated, the generosity and the security of what she was offering was tempting.

“I need to resign.”

There was a sharp intake of air at the other end. “Dana, please reconsider. You could have six months… Take a year if you need it.”

I paused, tempted. “I think it’s the best thing, for me and for the hospital.”

“I know what’s best for this hospital, and you’re a significant part of that.”

“Thank you, Ruth. It means a lot to hear you say that. I’ll never forget what you said in my defence.”

“I’ve worked with you for 10 years. I meant every word of it.”

“I’ve… lost the energy for it, Ruth, and the confidence, no doubt.”

“That’s to be expected, Dana. Give yourself some time.”

“I am,” I said with false conviction. “I don’t know how long it will take, so it’s best this way.”

She was silent for a moment. “I’ll accept your resignation, if you insist,” she finally conceded. Her voice, always calm, was gentler still. “But there will be a place for you, if you change your mind. I’m just so sorry this ever happened to you. God bless, Dana.”

As I said my goodbye, I wondered if I had acted too hastily and felt shaky with uncertainty. I was leaving my work, I was leaving my home, and I didn’t really know why. I rang my parents. They were surprised to know that both their daughters would be away for an undetermined length of time.

“It’ll be good for you, darling,” my father said, and I felt the soothing balm of his love. He didn’t question my decision to leave the hospital and I was grateful. My mother was less impressed.

“At least you’ll be together.”

I should have known that she would bring me little comfort.