by Susan Lewis
Emma hoped they wouldn’t – it was a gesture she associated with bereavement, and, thank God, they weren’t there yet.
They would never get there; she couldn’t allow it.
There wasn’t a single mention of the Osmonds, nor a message that might conceivably have been from them. Nor was there any word from Parker Jenkins. Did that mean anything? Maybe he’d sent an email instead.
‘Jackie Dennis is going to London this morning,’ Clive Andrews told her as they drove to the police station for her to give her DNA, with Berry in the back of the car. Harry and her mother had turned up at eight thirty, and were staying at the house while the police searched Lauren’s room for heaven only knew what, and took away whatever they needed. What kind of criminal activity did they think Lauren had been involved in? Emma couldn’t begin to imagine, and wouldn’t, because then she’d have to start facing the fact that her daughter wasn’t who she thought she was.
‘Jackie’s arranged to talk to both Osmonds,’ Andrews went on, ‘and the Jenkins boy, so maybe we’ll know more later.’
‘What about Donna?’ Emma asked. ‘Is she going to see her?’
‘I believe so. She’s definitely going to the school, and yours truly is going to have a chat with your friend’s daughter today, Melissa.’
Emma nodded and turned to look out of the window.
The session at the police station was over now, and Clive Andrews had just dropped Emma and Berry next to the hospital’s Accident Centre so they could walk through to the ICU.
‘I could wish this wasn’t quite such a gloomy place,’ Berry murmured as they went in through the North Entrance. A long, low-ceilinged corridor stretched out like endless arms either side of them, neon-lit and scuffed with age. Swing doors, some security-coded, some not, led to various wards and units; paintings and photographs lined the walls, and medical staff, porters, and administrators moved busily about their tasks.
‘It was used by the Americans during the war,’ Emma told her, standing aside as a mentally impaired young man loped awkwardly past them with a man who was probably a nurse.
‘Really? As some sort of barracks?’ Berry asked.
‘No, as a hospital.’ It seemed odd to be having this conversation, but it was OK too.
‘How do you know?’
‘I read it online during the night.’
‘Mm, I thought you were up. Did you manage to sleep at all?’
‘Yes, for a while.’
Berry said no more, simply linked Emma’s arm as they followed a couple of porters along the eternal walkway until they reached the waiting room outside Intensive Care.
‘I’ll just check to see if Will’s in here first,’ Emma said, pushing open the door.
To her surprise the room was crowded with strangers, some of them children – except she realised after a moment that they weren’t strangers, because the woman who was standing up awkwardly to greet her was Will’s wife, Jemima. The children must be Will’s other family.
‘Emma, I’m so sorry about what’s happened,’ Jemima said, seeming genuinely to mean it, which of course she would. She was even taller than Emma remembered, too tall, and as blonde as her Scandinavian origins could make her. Her sloe eyes looked tired, but no less arresting for that and even without make-up she could only be described as a beauty.
‘I didn’t know you were going to be here,’ Emma said, feeling uncomfortable and angry and wishing she was able to send them away.
Colouring slightly, Jemima said, ‘We came to ... Well, to see Lauren, obviously, and to lend Will some moral support. He’s taken this very hard. Of course, I’m sure you have too.’
Emma wondered what she was supposed to say to that. She knew what she’d like to say, but even if she had the nerve she never would in front of the children. They were watching her, all four of them with wide, worried eyes, apparently picking up on the tension and not knowing what to do. The little boy was breathtaking, and the little girl was so similar to Lauren at that age, with her golden curls and brilliant golden eyes, that it made Emma’s heart ache. She could imagine three-year-old Chloe having a big crush on her glamorous stepsister. The twelve-year-old-twins were the image of each other, and must resemble their father since they were dark-haired and sallow-skinned, quite unlike their mother. One of them said, ‘Hello, I’m Cecile.’
‘Hello,’ Emma replied, impressed by her good manners. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ It wasn’t, but it was hardly the child’s fault this was happening.
‘And I’m Robin,’ the boy told her.
Emma gave him a smile.
‘Are you Lauren’s mum?’ Cecile asked.
‘Yes, I am. I’ve come to see her. Is Will in with her?’ she asked Jemima.
‘Yes, he’s been going in and out all night. I think they’re saying that we’ll have to start keeping to regular visiting hours from now on.’
Flinching at the ‘we’, and hating being told by Jemima that the rules were soon to be imposed, Emma turned to Berry. ‘I should go in now,’ she said. ‘Will you be all right out here?’
‘Actually, I’ll go and give Harry and your mother a call, find out what time they expect to get here.’
Saying no more to Jemima, Emma followed Berry out of the room, and after exchanging a wordless but eloquent look, they parted company. As Emma went to buzz for entry into the ward Will came out, so catching the door she made to move past him.
‘Emma,’ he said, stopping her.
‘I want to see Lauren,’ she told him.
‘The doctors are with her.’
Emma let the door go and lifted her eyes to his; tears were stinging them even as her blood boiled. ‘You could have told me Jemima was going to be here,’ she said tightly.
‘I’m sorry. I guess ...’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit much for Lauren, having so many visitors during the night?’
‘The kids only went in once, and very quietly. Jem’s been in a couple of times, but just to say hello and tell her to get well. No one hassled her, or did anything to wear her out.’
Finding her throat too tight to say more, Emma put a hand to her mouth, pretending to stifle a cough. It was absurd, she knew, and she already hated herself for it, but for a brief moment she’d felt unable to bear the thought of Lauren coming round and seeing Jemima, and not her. All that mattered was that Lauren should wake up; it really didn’t matter who was there.
‘Apparently the orthopaedic surgeon’s doing his nut about not being able to operate on the leg yet,’ Will told her. ‘They’re going to pin it this morning.’
Emma tried to take it in. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘If they’re doing that, they must think ... They must have decided it’s worth doing.’ No matter the kind of straw, small, strong, weak or even broken, just please keep giving her something to cling to.
‘That’s what I told myself,’ Will agreed.
Emma stood aside as a nurse came out of the ward.
‘You need to clear the way,’ the nurse told them. ‘We’re about to bring a patient through.’
‘Sorry,’ they apologised in unison, and because there was nowhere else to go, Emma found herself following Will back into the waiting room.
‘Are you OK?’ Jemima asked softly as soon as she saw Will. Little Dirk was on her lap now, while Chloe snuggled up against her. The big bad lady, Lauren’s mummy, must have scared them, Emma thought, because it looked as though they’d been crying.
‘I’m fine, just tired,’ he sighed. ‘How are you two?’ he asked the twins.
‘We’re OK,’ Cecile answered. ‘How’s Lauren? Can we see her again?’
‘Not now. The doctors are with her.’
‘Are they going to make her better?’ Chloe asked.
‘They’re trying to.’
‘I want her to wake up,’ she said, her chin starting to wobble.
‘I know, sweetheart,’ Jemima soothed. ‘We all do, but we have to be patient.’
Unable to be a pa
rt of this ‘other family’ scene, Emma said to Will, ‘Don’t forget the police want a sample of your DNA,’ and without saying goodbye to Jemima or the children she left the room.
She found Berry a few minutes later, in an open concourse between two red-brick wards. Taking her arm, she said, ‘The doctors are with Lauren, so let’s go and find a cup of tea.’
‘Did she have a good night?’ Berry asked, as they followed signs to a WRVS coffee shop.
‘I don’t know, with all that coming and going.’
Berry clucked her disapproval. ‘It was a very poor show, inviting Jemima and the children here without telling you,’ she commented. ‘What was he thinking?’
‘About himself, as usual, and them, I guess. They consider Lauren family, which of course she is, so the children were bound to be worried. Who knows, maybe hearing them has helped her in some way.’
‘Well that would certainly be welcome. I know Lauren’s very fond of them.’
Emma’s insides ached as she almost smiled. ‘She is of everyone,’ she reminded Berry, ‘but you’re right, they matter a lot to her. Will says they’re setting her leg this morning. And it seems we’re going to be told at some point that we have to start keeping to visiting hours.’
‘Which are?’
‘I don’t know yet. We’ll find out. What did Mum and Harry have to say?’
‘Apparently the police have taken Lauren’s computer, as we expected.’
Wishing she’d thought to go through it herself first, Emma asked, ‘Did they take anything else?’
‘Not that Harry mentioned. They were just leaving when I spoke to them, so they should be here in about an hour.’ Pushing open the coffee-shop door, Berry said, ‘Am I allowed to ask what happened between you and Mum last night?’
Feeling a pang of guilt flare up from her conscience, Emma replied, ‘I was probably a bit shorter with her than I should have been.’
‘About?’
‘She said she wouldn’t mind if I’d rather have you or Harry stay with me than her. In other words, the last thing either of us wants is to be left on our own together, especially at such an emotional time.’
Joining the end of a short queue, Berry said, ‘I think you misread her at times, you know.’
Emma couldn’t stop herself bristling. ‘I think I read her far more clearly than she’d like, which is half the problem. Anyway, let’s please not talk about her. The day is off to a bad enough start as it is, thanks to Will, and the police, and having to be in this place. I haven’t even seen Lauren yet, which is making me feel awful.’
‘I know, but look at it this way, there could be some good news waiting for us when we get back to the ward.’
Emma caught the thread of optimism, dared to hold it for a moment, and smiled. ‘What will you have?’ she offered as they approached the counter.
A few minutes later, with a stainless-steel teapot and two white china mugs between them, they sat staring at the biscuits they’d chosen, seeming to have run out of words.
In the end, Emma said, ‘Am I imagining things, or did you say before we left the house that there’s something you want to tell me?’
Berry waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh that, it’s nothing,’ she answered, picking up her mug.
‘Come on, what is it?’ Emma coaxed.
‘No, really, it’s not relevant any more.’ She glanced out of the window and as her face seemed to fall, Emma turned to find out what was wrong.
‘Oh God,’ she murmured, her insides churning with all kinds of emotions as she saw Will walking by carrying his handsome little son with one arm, and the other arm around Jemima who was holding cute little Chloe. The twins were straggling on behind, and when the girl caught Emma’s eye she blushed to the roots of her hair. She must have called out to her mother, because the next instant Will and Jemima were turning round. Spotting Emma and Berry, Will said something to his wife and came into the cafe, still carrying his son.
‘Hello Berry,’ he said, when he reached the table.
‘Hello Will,’ she replied.
‘How are you?’
‘Oh, you know. How are you?’
‘I guess the same.’ To Emma he said, ‘I’m going back to London today.’
‘Of course,’ she replied bitterly. ‘You have other priorities, I understand that.’
He flushed. ‘I’m going to get more clothes. Jem forgot to bring them last night.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘When I come back,’ he went on, carefully removing his son’s little hand from his mouth, ‘we should talk. There are things ...’
‘Exactly when are you coming back?’ she interrupted.
‘Tomorrow, probably. I’ve been up most of the night, so I ought not to do a drive up and back in one day. If there’s any change, will you let me know?’
‘Of course.’ Her eyes went down as she picked up her mug.
‘Are you sure?’
Surprised, she looked up at him. ‘I wouldn’t keep it from you. I understand you’re her father.’
An awkward silence followed as Berry gazed down at her tea and Emma turned to look at his little family outside.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he told her.
Her eyebrows rose as she turned back. ‘Really?’
‘You’re thinking that having Dirk and Chloe makes this easier for me.’
‘You have Jemima too, let’s not forget her.’
‘Lauren means every bit as much to me as she does to you.’
‘I don’t think that’s possible, because to me she’s everything.’
‘It’s not a contest,’ Berry came in gently. ‘This isn’t easy for either of you, and the best way you can help each other, and Lauren, is to try to put your differences aside during this difficult time.’
Knowing Berry was right, and annoyed with herself all over again for becoming angry and bitter with Will, Emma said, ‘I’ll try to remember to look out those books for you.’
Will seemed baffled.
‘The children’s books you wanted to read to Lauren.’
‘Oh yes, thanks. I’d appreciate it.’
After he’d gone, Emma said, ‘I know he loves her, I’d never doubt it for a minute, but I can’t help asking myself, how can he bring himself to leave before the doctor’s finished his rounds?’
‘Maybe he has finished,’ Berry replied.
Emma’s eyes went to hers. ‘And already spoken to Will who said nothing to me?’
Looking dismayed, Berry said, ‘Why don’t we go and find out?’
‘The orthopaedic surgeon will come to talk to you when he’s finished,’ Nigel Farraday was telling them at the nurses’ station ten minutes later, ‘but essentially I’ve agreed that he can operate if there’s no change in Lauren’s condition by the end of the week.’
Emma’s eyes were watching him hungrily, trying to find any tiny morsel of hope he might be offering. ‘Will that be good, if there’s no change?’ she asked.
Farraday’s smile was faint. ‘That very much depends on the nature of the change. If it means she’s woken up, then of course it would be good.’
‘But if she hasn’t?’
His eyes were solemn. ‘Let’s just say we’d prefer it if she did.’
‘Do you think she will?’
He glanced briefly to Berry before he said, ‘Mrs Scott, I don’t believe I’ve misled you about the severity of your daughter’s injuries ...’
‘No, no, I understand that they’re serious, but there is a chance she’ll wake up, isn’t there? I mean, when you stop sedating her.’ Her nails were biting into her hands; blood was pulsing through her ears.
Farraday’s eyes went down for a moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought someone had told you, she’s no longer being sedated.’
Emma’s heart jarred. ‘So she’s ... she’s in an actual coma?’ she whispered.
‘It would appear so,’ he replied sombrely.
‘Oh God,’ Emma choked, takin
g a step back as though to avoid the words.
Farraday’s registrar put a steadying arm on her shoulder, while Berry, beaten by the news, stared at the nurses’ station as though she’d lost a sense of where she was.
No more than ten yards away Lauren lay inert on her bed, still attached to her tubes, surrounded by monitors and showing no voluntary signs of life as two doctors and a nurse worked on her leg.
To Farraday, Emma said shakily, ‘Isn’t there anything you can do to bring her round? There must be something, surely.’
‘If there were, believe me we’d ...’ He turned as an alarm sounded.
Emma’s heart leapt to her throat.
Nurses and intensivists started running.
Emma turned to run too, but Farraday’s registrar caught her.
‘It’s OK,’ he said gently.
Emma didn’t understand, how could it be OK when an alarm was sounding? Then she realised he was telling her that it wasn’t Lauren, and she almost collapsed with relief. It wasn’t that she was wishing harm to anyone else but she had no idea if Lauren could survive another crisis.
Ushering her and Berry out of the unit, Farraday and his team came into the waiting room with them.
After exchanging a few words with the registrar, who was looking at his watch, Farraday turned to Emma, taking a moment to bring himself back to Lauren’s case. ‘Unless there are any unexpected occurrences,’ he said, ‘we should start weaning her off the ventilator tomorrow or Thursday.’
Emma could only stare at him, confused, trying to piece it together. Repairing the leg, taking her off the ventilator ... ‘What ... what does that mean exactly?’ she finally managed.
‘It means we’ll find out if she’s capable of breathing on her own.’
‘And if ... if she isn’t?’
He smiled reassuringly. ‘If she isn’t we’ll perform a tracheotomy, but let’s try to remain positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already late for theatre.’
After the door closed behind him Emma turned her bewildered eyes to Berry. As she started to speak her mobile rang, and seeing it was Will she clicked on.
‘Is Farraday still with her?’ he asked.