“I don’t suppose she’s going to be very happy when she wakes up, is she?” Rochelle mused out loud, her voice quiet yet calm. “She’s already looking thinner. When she finds out she’s such a skinny thing, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Rochelle was sitting on the edge of Mollie’s bed, absently brushing at the errant strands of hair that had escaped from Mollie’s fringe to splay across her forehead. She gently pushed them back into place as she spoke. She received only mild responses from those around her; not for lack of interest, but from simple tiredness.
It was nearing midnight at this point, and while they had stretched the limit on visitors’ hours to the point where they weren’t even adhering to them anymore, they were aware that they had to leave eventually. Rochelle was the only one truly awake anymore, with Vanessa slumping down in her chair as she tapped wearily at her phone. She was trapped in that position by Una’s head, as the Irishwoman was curled up in the chair beside her and her temple rested on Vanessa’s shoulder. The stress had been tough on her, yet she could still retreat to sleep whenever she needed to.
And Frankie was slumped over on one of the neighbouring hospital cots, where her friends had carried her the moment she’d started dozing in the chair. She’d been having so much trouble sleeping that they took every opportunity to force rest upon her.
Mollie’s condition had been steadily improving, the doctors said, and so they still popped in every night to check on her over the last week. The Saturdays girls had been called upon to soothe the fans concern in whatever way they could, and all except Frankie had been doing their part in heading out for the occasional meeting with a reporter so they could keep the public in the loop. They didn’t reveal personal information; only enough so that people knew Mollie was okay and that she was pulling through.
Rochelle, realising that it was the right time for them to leave, did the rounds to collect the rest of the girls, gently shaking Una’s hand to wake her and doing the same for Frankie. Una instantly turned and latched onto Vanessa in sleepy dependence, and Vanessa curled an arm around her waist to help her to her feet. Frankie woke with far more alarm, shooting up with a panicked look on her face and muttering Mollie’s name.
“It’s alright,” Rochelle soothed her gently, curling her fingers around the younger girl’s shoulder to hold her steady. She had never lived up to the title of ‘the sensible one’ more than she had over the last six days, and all the women present in that room were grateful for it. “It’s time to go back home now, alright? Come on.”
For once, Frankie was too distracted to protest as Rochelle guided her feet back onto the floor and pointed her in the direction of the door. She grabbed Frankie’s coat off of the bed on the way past and hung it loosely around the shorter girl’s shoulders, keeping a supporting hand on her back so she wouldn’t list to the side. Frankie’s head hung down like she could barely keep it on her neck.
“Sweet dreams, Molls,” Frankie mumbled under her breath as she passed her comatose friend, trailing her fingers lightly over Mollie’s leg before letting her hand fall heavily back to her side. Rochelle smiled at the affectionate gesture and sent a silent goodbye toward the older girl as well before continuing.
She was nearly at the door when she heard it. It was just a tiny irregularity in the sound of the heart monitor, but it was enough to give her pause. Rochelle glanced back at the girl in the bed.