Loud Like Love

Chapter Eighteen: This Picture

'Hang on,' said Matt, 'Dave's dad is your ex?'

'Yup.' Maria shrugged. 'He was . . . less like that before. Or perhaps not. Either way, good for her. I hope he's very happy in that big, empty house by himself. Here's to losing shitty husbands!' She raised her glass.

* * *

Zoë and Nick drove to Coventry the next morning, stopping at Aunt Karen's first. Karen greeted them with hugs and kisses and happy birthday wishes for Nick, and they had lunch together at her flat. She wanted to know about Nick, what he had been up to lately. Coventry wasn't even that far away, but they hadn't seen each other since the summer.

After they'd eaten, the three of them set off to the hospital; the mental institution. The loony bin, Nick thought to himself. The cuckoo's nest. He wasn't sure what to call it in his head, or what to expect, but what he found was a three-storey brick building. It didn't have a typical hospital look, on the outside or the inside. The corridors had cream white walls with several colourful prints and paintings.

'Is this really a hospital?' Nick asked Aunt Karen.

'This is a long term care facility, for people with mental illness and disability that makes them a danger to themselves or others. The ward where Angie lives is for the former. It's good. They're good here.'

They signed in at reception, and then a male nurse took them to what appeared to be a common room. Some people were watching television. Others were talking. Two older men were playing chess over in a corner. Everyone wore normal clothes. Everyone looked normal. Even the nurses were dressed casually, their keys and ID-badges the only thing setting them apart from the patients.

She was reading a book. Behind her was a large bookshelf, filled with what Nick assumed was hospital approved reading material. She sat in a comfortable looking chair, and wore a green, cable-knit jumper over loose jeans. She looked somewhat less thin and frail than she had when last Nick had seen her. She also wasn't in a hospital bed, wrists slit, getting a blood transfusion, which was a marked improvement as well.

'Angie?' the nurse said softly. 'Your family's here to see you.'

Nick's mother closed her book and looked up, eyes widening. Karen had told her they were coming to visit, but she still looked surprised to see them, as though she hadn't expected them to actually follow through. She had cut her brown hair short, and her grey eyes were bright. She looked surprisingly healthy. She stood up. 'Zoë,' she breathed, looking at her daughter. Then she turned her attention to her son. 'Nick . . . Belated happy birthday, love. Oh, it's so good to see you! We . . .' She looked around the room. 'Liam,' she said to the nurse. 'Is the music room occupied? Can we use it to talk?'

Liam the nurse nodded. 'It should be free. Come on, let's have a look.'

They all followed him, and he led them down a corridor to a closed door, which he unlocked and opened. Within was what looked like a sitting room, with two sofas and several bookshelves. There was also a piano, two guitars, and a very old looking violin which hung on the wall and looked more like it was for decoration than for actual use. There was a tall cupboard at the back of the room.

'Let me know when you're done so I can come lock up, okay?' Liam smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

'So, you have a music room,' said Nick, and he realised that they were the first words he had spoken to her since he had seen her in that hospital room, two years ago.

His mum nodded. 'Yeah. We, er, have music therapy in here. That cupboard is where they keep the ukuleles. I play now. It's fun. There's an art room too. I . . . paint sometimes, and sculpt clay.' She fell silent.