‘We are in no-man’s-land as we wait for news of Evie’

OUR lives are just a series of moments. From the small, mundane occasions that we let pass us by without notice, to the big showstoppers that make us pause and take note. Then, when you least expect it, a moment so powerful and defining happens that changes everything in a split second.

The thing about change is, it’s not always good.

Today was a day of insignificant moments, until Jamie’s scream bounced off the walls in our house and time slowed down. Relief at seeing him in one piece was fleeting as I followed his eyes and saw what he saw. Evie, my 13-year-old daughter, lying unmoving, vomit splattered on her face and chest, dripping into a noxious puddle on the dark floorboards.

Time then sped up as we made our frantic dash to the hospital. And now we are in no-man’s-land as we wait for more news on Evie.

A kind nurse has just left our cramped hospital waiting room and the musky, woody scent of her fragrance lingers in the air. Vanilla, apples, sandalwood. It’s Burberry perfume, I’d recognise it anywhere.

I look to my right and am unsurprised that the smell has sent Pops right back to 1981 too.

A time when it was the norm in the Guinness house to spray that scent into the air every morning, in an effort to bring someone back. Until one day the bottle was empty and Pops said, ‘that’s enough now lad.’ I watch him as his grey eyes water up and he turns to hold my gaze, nodding.

A silent acknowledgement of mutual pain triggered by the scent of a nurse’s perfume. For maybe the one-millionth time in my life, and I daresay in my father’s, I yearn for my mother.