Page 63 of The App Trap

“He’s all right, isn't he?” I asked Mum.

There still wasn't a flicker of life. Just that same death rattle over and over again.

“I’m gonna go now, Mum. I’ll see you in the morning, but… you know…”

I kissed her forehead and rubbed her hands, noticing her nails that were once so red and vibrant now looked like nothing more than wood shavings.

I went downstairs and found Harry thumbing through a terrible soap opera magazine.

“Just so you know, that was the best of a bad bunch,” he said, tossing the mag on the table.

We climbed into the car and embarked on the journey back. It was raining hard. We’d just turned into Tooting Broadway when my phone started ringing.

Shit. It was an unknown number. My stupid online dating brain first thought it was a straggler from my past wanting to get in touch, but this was a landline. What self-respecting online dater would use a landline in this day and age?

I pulled over to answer the call.

“Hello, is that Danny? Danny Pecorelli?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Hi, Danny. I’m Sarah Tomlin from the Royal Marsden Hospital. I’m phoning about your Mum….”

She let out an elongated, sympathetic sigh.

As the rain beat down on the windscreen, Harry squeezed my hand, and somehow I felt that everything was as it was meant to be. Although a huge part of my life was now gone, I knew things were going to be all right.

And I knew that somehow, wherever she was, Mum knew it too.