Second Chances

Chapter 52

If there was one thing in this life that I hated more than anything, it was my weekly food shop. All I wanted to do was to be in and out, get what I need and go. However, the public have other ideas and seem to know that I am on a mission and do all they can to prevent me from completing it. Regardless of what day or time I go shopping, everyone and their mother seemed to be out, but today, just to piss me off that little bit more, they'd all brought their bloody nans too.

All morning I'd been on edge. I'd woken up with a strong sense of foreboding that was just casually lingering in the pit of my stomach. I felt like my stomach was vehemently churning butter and I couldn't put my finger on what it could be, or why I felt this way, but it didn't help with my impatience as I shopped.

To help keep me cool and grounded, I had my headphones in and was playing some upbeat music. Miming the lyrics, I bobbed my head and tapped the fingers of my hand that wasn't holding the basket on the side of my leg; browsing the aisles in my hunt for the items that were on my list, whilst attempting to ignore the growing annoyance at the slow walkers, abrupt halters and people clogging up the aisles, all of which being fuel to my growing hate-fire.

After arriving at the fresh meat section, I welcomed the cool air that encompassed me as I opened the fridge door and picked up a packet of diced chicken. As I read the protein contents on the flip side of the container, the music that was blaring in my ears was abruptly cut off by the default ringtone of my phone. Slightly annoyed at the interruption, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and looked to see who the caller was, only to find "No Caller Id" to be displayed on the screen. I didn't usually take calls with No Caller Id, however the funny feeling in my stomach had turned, knotting into even more of a tangled mess than it already was, and thus I found myself answering the call.

"Hello?" I hadn't bought chicken from here before, but looking at the protein content, I may start having to.

"Hello. Am I speaking to Miss Brooks?" A soft, unfamiliar feminine voice drifted through the buds that were snuggled securely in my ears. I turned the packet of chicken over to check the best before end date. Only a few days left.

"You are. Who's this?" I quizzed bluntly as I dropped the chicken into my basket before moving on to the next section.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm calling from St. Francis Hospital. I have you down as the next of kin for Ffion Carter." Ffion. Hospital. Those two words were enough to make me be completely engaged and have my full attention on the purpose of this phone call. A red warning light came on in my brain, singing its alarm call as panic began to infiltrate my entire being and made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Ffion's in the hospital? Is she OK? Is the baby OK?" My questions were short and sharp, and with my voice raised in worry, I earned a few looks from nearby shoppers.

"Unfortunately, I can't give you the full details over the phone due to confidentiality, but she's been in a car accident this morning and is in a serious condition. If you could come down so we can discuss options moving forward..." A few people a short distance from me had stopped to observe me as I remained frozen on the spot, but my face was embossed with growing panic. Nosey bastards who clearly have nothing better to do than listen in on other peoples dramas and issues.

"I'll be there as soon as possible." I didn't want to hear talks about 'options moving forward'; it suggested that Ffion and the baby really weren't in a good condition, and it didn't bear thinking about. I hung up the call, my music exploding back into my ears, and abandoned my shopping basket before sprinting out of the supermarket, not missing my audience following me with their heads in my peripheral as I ran past them. How I didn't knock some poor old soul to the floor as I zig-zagged between the customers is beyond me.