Page 4 - Sample Flip Builder Project

‘Ta,’ he says. ‘You going skiing, too?’

‘No, my son is in hospital —’ I start to say but my eyes fill with tears, and from the
pained expression on the man’s face I know I’ve ruined the start to his holiday.

The plane to Invercargill is a turboprop with propellers. I sit up front, facing a stiff
breeze from the open door where they’re loading dog cages behind the cockpit. The

dogs are jittery but I don’t mind the howling. We flutter down the runway and soar into

the sky, and the snow-capped mountains and plunging ravines below make me forget
everything for just a little while.

Invercargill Airport is like a shoe-box, the luggage carousel an abandoned shed
in droopy grass. I’ve rugged up, but it’s much colder than I imagined and I can’t

remember where my gloves are. There are no shuttles into town and I share a taxi with

a businessman. I sit in the back and say nothing. It’s safer that way.
The roads are dark and quiet. The houses huddle together for warmth.

At the hospital, visiting hours are over but I’m expected in Intensive Care.
Outside glazed glass doors, I disinfect my hands then press the buzzer. A nurse arrives

and introduces himself.
Guy tells me he’s looking after Tristan. He seems positive and cheerful, and I

follow him in. I see my son immediately, although there’s so much to absorb — from the

tubes in his neck to the heavy bandaging to the electrodes on his chest to the growth on
his chin. ‘Hello, Mum,’ he murmurs, but he doesn’t smile.

Guy explains the squiggly lines moving across the monitors, and later I feed my
son yogurt. His refusal to swallow more than a few spoonfuls takes me back to

childhood fights over food. Later, I nod off alongside his bed and wake to find it’s ten-
thirty. The patient is asleep. I need not remain vigilant at his bedside. I lean over to kiss

him goodbye, and he opens his dark blue eyes and stares at me. ‘I was dreaming,’ he

objects. ‘I was dreaming a nice dream.’
And you woke up and found yourself in a nightmare, I think.

In the morning they isolate Tristan as a precaution, and a team of gloved and masked
interns is with him when I arrive. I collar one coming out of his room.

‘What is it? What’s this infection called?’

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