If He Wakes

by If He Wakes (retail) (epub)

  ‘Rachel,’ he said my name again, low and elongating the vowels but I didn't stop. Lack of sleep was making me reckless.

  ‘Jessica!’ I shouted. ‘Come up here please.’

  He moved then, quickly going to the door and his action made me jump. It hurt my cast and I winced.

  ‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘Stay there, you don’t need to come up.’

  I opened my mouth to protest. I doubted she had even heard us, when he shut the door with a slam.

  ‘Why don't you want Jessica to know?’ I asked. ‘She can easily tell me if it's been her on Twitter, on my laptop. I'll know if she's lying. Let me ask so I can rule her out, because if it wasn't her, then perhaps it was you?’

  He didn't turn. He stayed facing the door, his back tense, his shoulders raised.

  ‘You won't give me a good reason for the map, or tell me where the parking ticket is from, or why you were washing your clothes in the middle of the night,’ I said to his back. ‘So let me ask Jessica. Let me at least put the Twitter messages to bed. If you've done nothing wrong then –’

  He turned and I stopped. The expression on his face silenced me. His eyes had gone dark, his face was tense, his jaw tight. It was so unlike Phil, I’d never seen him look like that before.

  ‘You just won't stop will you?’ he hissed out the question, his voice low and the quietness to it chilled me. He came toward me, walking slowly, ‘You won't leave it alone, I tell you to, but you won't.’

  I looked up at him, scared. I suddenly felt like I didn’t know him at all, this man I’d been so certain of, he was like a stranger. He seemed alien, his face dark, I felt like I had no idea who he was.

  ‘You really want to know, Rachel?’ He ran a hand over his face and I saw it was shaking. ‘Well, okay then. You're making me do this, remember that Rachel, it's you who's making me do it.’

  He raised his hand and reached above me. Pulling something out from the overbed unit. Something from under the spare towels and sheets that were inside the storage cupboard. He pulled out an envelope, brown, A4 in size, with the words ‘Please do not bend’ written in red along the side.

  ‘The police asked me to go into the station. They interviewed me, asked me where I was last night,’ he said slowly. ‘Where I was after midnight, if I left the house at all,’ he looked at me steadily. ‘I said I was here, with you. All night.’

  My breathing became fractured. I shook my head.

  ‘And if they ask you, you need to say the same,’ he thrust the envelope at me. ‘Open it,’ he said. ‘You want answers, Rachel? Well, here they are.’

  I stared at the envelope.

  ‘Phil,’ my voice was trembling. If I could have moved away from him, if I could've gone to the other side of the room, then I would. ‘Phil,’ I looked up at him. ‘You're scaring me.’

  He dropped the envelope on my lap and moved away to the end of the bed. I swallowed, my throat tight.

  ‘Phil?’

  He didn't answer, didn't move and I looked down at where the envelope had landed. The name on the front of it, written in small bold letters made me pick it up. I looked back at Phil, who gave a small nod, his face set. I opened it up, took out what it contained.

  It was a series of large photographs. Printed on glossy paper. I looked at the first one and couldn't focus on what I was seeing. It couldn't be, but it was.

  She was sat on a high stool, her skinny legs crossed and dressed in sheer stockings. The lace tops squeezing around her thighs. Her feet encased in ridiculously high heels. Sparkly, red things with blocks under them. The kind you see in strip clubs, the kind of shoe that is associated with late nights, alcohol, smoky dark atmospheres and sex.

  Her chest was bare. One of her arms was across her stomach, as if she wanted to raise it, to hide the swell of her breasts behind it, but hadn't. Her clavicle stood out, as did her ribs. I heard myself gasp. But, although she was half naked, it was her face that shocked me the most. Her heavily made-up face and backcombed hair, her eyes looking straight at the camera. Her eyes. And fear. There was fear in that face I knew so well. A frightened little girl playing dress-up. Lips red. Eyes dark. A streak of pink blush across each cheekbone. A small cry escaped me and I dropped it all, the envelope and the photographs.

  Phil took in a deep breath. He sank his head down, leaned forward over the edge of the bed as if he were being pressed on by a great weight; his hair fell forward, obscuring his face.

  ‘It can’t be,’ I breathed as my brain struggled to comprehend the images of my daughter. ‘This is her?’ I looked at him, ‘This is our daughter?’

  ‘It's her,’ Phil confirmed and my skin prickled with horror. ‘It’s Katie.’

  20

  Suzie

  Suzie looked over at the vending machine. She was hungry. She hadn't eaten much of anything all day but she didn’t like the look of the fatty chocolate bars or crisps inside the machine with their luminous packaging. They were bound to be chock full of chemicals and although hungry, the thought of eating them made her feel nauseous. She was feverish and jittery. The feeling had started when she took the call from the council about Adam’s car and it hadn’t left her since.

  Adam was in Chester, had left his car at the retail park of all places and Suzie had ended the call with the council and immediately called the police. She’d answered numerous questions and waited whilst the information had been put into the police computer. Then, after a long wait, when she was told that Adam Staple had been admitted to hospital following an accident, and she’d gone into a kind of shock. That was the only explanation for it.

  The police had told her to stay on the line, that someone needed to talk with her, but Suzie had dropped her phone on the hard tiles of the conservatory floor shattering the screen at the news. Adam was in hospital. He’d been at the drive-through, probably getting some food before coming home to her and had been in an accident. He was at hospital. He wasn’t missing, he hadn’t left her. He was in hospital!

  She was suddenly ashamed of all the doubts she’d had about him, how she’d questioned him. Suzie had turned to Della, told her to dress the house however she liked. Told her to do what she could and Suzie had left, got in the empty van and driven away from an open-mouthed Della straight to the hospital, and to Adam. She longed to speak to him, to hold his hand, to cry tears of relief and have him explain everything to her.

  ‘Ms McFadden?’ It was the nurse who had shown her into the family suite at the hospital, ‘I'm sorry but no one is available to talk to you about Mr Staple's condition at the moment.’ She came toward Suzie and perched beside her on the padded chair, whilst handing her a plastic cup filled with dark brown tea. ‘There will be someone in tomorrow morning, or perhaps later, but I couldn't give you a time I'm afraid. There may be someone around in about an hour or two,’ she smiled apologetically.

  ‘I’d like to see him,’ Suzie said. ‘I am his fiancée. They said close family at the desk, well, we're due to get married next June.’ Suzie got up and flexed her legs. She wasn't sure why she'd been brought into this room and told to wait. She just needed to see Adam. ‘He must have been asking for me,’ she said and the nurse frowned. ‘It’s possible he’s forgotten my mobile number. He’s useless with remembering things like that and if he’s lost his, or it’s out of charge, he wouldn’t know my number off the top of his head. The police said he was admitted earlier in the week?’

  Suzie waited expectantly. No one had actually told her what had happened to Adam or why he was in hospital. Dropping her phone had meant that the call to the police had been cut short, she wasn’t even sure if the damaged phone was working, but by then she knew where Adam was. He’d been alone all this time, wondering why she hadn’t visited him earlier. She'd got there as soon as she could and now she wanted to see him, to hold his hand, stroke his head, be with him. All this nonsense about having to wait, about speaking with a consultant or whatever before she saw him was absurd.

  The nurse went over to
Suzie and took her hand. She guided her back to the padded chairs and, in a gentle voice she delicately began to explain what the Critical Care Unit was for. She told Suzie about the high dependency beds and intensive care, the ongoing rehabilitation and as she spoke, a slow sense of horror rose up in Suzie. In her mind, Adam's accident had been serious, but not life threatening. A broken leg, a trapped nerve, possible appendicitis, something severe enough to prevent him from making contact, but not critical.

  She looked at the nurse, felt her stomach contract and shook her head, she was unable to connect this description of Adam's accident with her own imagined version.

  ‘Bleeding?’ Suzie asked. ‘Bleeding on the brain?’

  The nurse nodded, both of her hands now across Suzie's.

  ‘But he's doing really well,’ the nurse said. ‘We do expect him to gain consciousness soon. I'm so sorry to have to tell you like this, if we'd known Mr Staple was engaged, we'd have got you here this morning. To see the neurologist with the rest of his family.’

  ‘The rest of his family?’ Suzie blinked rapidly, she was repeating the nurse’s last words as a question but she couldn't stop. It was ridiculous. It didn't make sense. ‘Adam doesn't have any family.’

  ‘The young lady?’ the nurse prompted. ‘I'm sorry, I'm not sure of the relation now, but there was a young lady here this morning. The neurologist spoke with her. I presumed that she'd been in touch, when you came to the desk and asked for Mr Staple, and explained that you were family, well, I assumed that you knew about his condition. That it was her who'd told you of Mr Staple's prognosis. I didn't realise that you weren't aware. You mentioned the police…?’

  ‘I phoned about a missing person,’ Suzie said and the nurse, registering how Suzie had come to be sitting in the family suite and hearing for the first time about her fiancé's state, closed her eyes in compassion.

  ‘The council phoned me, his car was reported abandoned,’ Suzie went on. ‘And then I knew something had happened, so I phoned to make a missing person’s report. I assumed he’d…’

  She stopped. The nurse still had her eyes closed and was squeezing her hand a little too tightly. Suzie looked at her and thought about going to the door to call someone else, someone in a white coat and not a blue shirt. The nurse opened her eyes and they were wet, Suzie pulled back her hands. She didn’t like the look of pity. She didn’t like the way this nurse was tilting her head and giving her a small smile of sympathy.

  ‘I’d really like to see Adam now,’ Suzie said, standing up and giving her thighs a quick rub. ‘I’d really like to talk with him about this.’

  The nurse took a deep breath and slowly brought Suzie back to the chair. She explained it all again.

  Critical Care Unit. High dependency. Rehabilitation. Unconscious. Coma. Bleeding on the brain.

  The words were highlighted and underlined. Suzie found she was repeating them to herself silently. She tried to tell the nurse that it was impossible, that Adam couldn't have bleeding on the brain as they were getting married in a few months and they had a business to run.

  The nurse nodded and carried on describing Adam's state, and every time Suzie objected, the nurse calmly explained it again. Somewhere along the way, tissues were brought out. The nurse went through it all, several times until she was sure that Suzie understood the severity of Adam's condition.

  ‘So he won't be talking?’ Suzie asked, ‘or moving?’

  The nurse shook her head. ‘He's in a coma, which means he's unresponsive. He's also highly medicated as we're taking care of him. So there'll be a lot of equipment in that room whilst we monitor him.’

  Suzie had stared at her tea, now cold, and repeated the nurse’s answers to herself in her head. Adam wasn't responsive. The nurse went on to break down how Adam looked, what Suzie should expect to see in his room and, after a while, when the nurse thought she was ready, she took her along the ward to his bed at the end.

  It was a shock. Even after all she'd been told, there was still a small part of her that thought he'd be propped up, reading his boxing magazine or one of those thick paperbacks he liked with the threatening images on the front. She wasn't prepared for the machines around him, for the tubes, for his swollen bruised face that made him look like someone else completely.

  For a brief moment, she was certain it wasn't him. That there'd been a misunderstanding and this wasn't her Adam at all, but then she saw his hand with its square fingers and chipped nails. The hand that she'd kissed, that she'd held, and she took in a shocked gasp of air.

  Once she'd recognised his hand, other bits of him fell into place. The traces of his curls peeking out from under the dressing, the mole at his collarbone like a lazy triangle and all of a sudden it was her Adam lying in this bed before her. Bruised and battered and barely alive.

  She put her hands to her mouth as the nurse held her in a comforting way with one arm around her shoulders and the other at her elbow. Tissues were given and soothing noises made.

  Someone came to the door and the nurse said in a soft voice. ‘Not yet. I'll be there in a minute, I can't leave just now,’ and Suzie found she was clinging to the nurse slightly and wasn't sure if the nurse meant she couldn't leave Adam just now, or her. Or both of them.

  She was led over to the chair at his bedside and she had to concentrate to uncurl her fingers away from the nurse’s hand. The nurse patted her and told her she could stay as long as she needed to. She read off Adam's charts in an optimistic way and repeatedly said the same clichés about ‘doing well’ and ‘lucky escape’ but Suzie barely heard any of it. The nurse left her sat by his bed, clutching his hand whilst she tried to locate the specialist again, or anyone who could shed some light on how her fiancé had come to be in such a state.

  She looked at the version of Adam that was in front of her as the truth of the situation started to penetrate. It was getting late, her head hurt, but Suzie didn't take her eyes off him. She sat and soaked it in as she held onto his hand. The rhythm of the hospital ward encompassed her, as did the otherworldliness of her situation.

  The ward seemed to have a motion about it that was close to soothing. The whisper of the machines, the constant whir and flash of them. The movement of staff, of other visitors, all calm, all softly spoken and all with heads lowered and bodies sagging with the weight of their circumstances.

  Here was a place at the brink of death, God's waiting room. People who had barely escaped were clinging onto life whilst the living watched and as Suzie sat waiting for information, she sensed their hopelessness and started to fully grasp her own.

  ‘I'm so sorry,’ the nurse said as she came back into the room. ‘But there's been an emergency and it's taken most of the staff I'm afraid.’

  Suzie saw she held another plastic cup of the dark brown tea and she took it and sat back down in her chair at Adam's bedside.

  ‘There will be someone,’ the nurse said, checking over Adam and the things attached to him, ‘but it might not be until the early hours. You're welcome to wait, or you could come back tomorrow?’

  ‘He's a photographer,’ Suzie said and the nurse stopped to listen. ‘He can take anything, anything at all and make it beautiful. That's how we met. He caught me taking photographs and showed me how to do it properly. And under all that bandaging, he's got really thick lovely hair and his nose is usually straight and his eyes, they're bright blue.’

  Suzie felt the nurse put her hand on her shoulder, a comforting squeeze.

  ‘We're going to Thailand for our honeymoon, it’s a surprise. He took out a loan for it,’ Suzie said stroking Adam’s hand. ‘He went and took out a stupid loan to surprise me with a wonderful honeymoon.’

  The nurse made a noise, muttered something about putting plans on hold, and Suzie turned sharply.

  ‘You don't understand,’ she said. ‘He is my life. My life. And it's not changing, any of it. So yes, I'll be waiting. I'm going to wait right by his bedside until you bring me a consultant or a specialist or someone who
can come along and fix him because he is not staying like this? Do you hear me? He's not staying like this.’

  ‘I understand,’ the nurse said and Suzie swallowed. ‘But I must ask you to keep your voice down and to stay calm. I realise it's a terrible shock but we do have other patients.’

  Her nose had started to run and she nodded. ‘It's just so unfair,’ she said. ‘We have so much to do. We’ve only been together a short while and we're meant to be going to the comedy club on Friday night.’ She took his hand again. ‘The one with all the fairy lights on the top floor so they look like stars. He was booking tickets. And he was taking me for cocktails at that secret bar. The one by the church on Watergate Street, where you have to go up the stairs and knock on the door to be let in? Adam told me it was quirky, that they'd put rose petals in my wine. I'd even decided what to wear.’

  The nurse got the box of tissues from the side and handed one to Suzie. She waited as Suzie wiped her eyes and nose and then took it from her like a child and threw it in the waste basket.

  ‘As soon as anyone is available I'll bring them straight to you.’

  ‘It's just so cruel,’ Suzie said, ‘and I won't have it. This isn't how our story goes. Y'know? This isn't what me and Adam are doing, we’re getting married and buying a house and starting a family.’

  The nurse took a moment. She looked at Suzie and then at Adam. Suzie sensed she was going to hug her or say something about his condition but instead she asked, ‘Shall I get you another cup of tea?’ and Suzie nodded.

  Staring at his battered face, she could feel the life they had together being pulled away from her. It was being snatched. Stolen. She wanted to scream at how wrong that was. All their wedding plans, the expansion of the business and the new home that Adam had talked of buying, the home with an extra bedroom, the promise that they might start a family, it was being robbed from her. She could feel it dissolving as she sat in his hospital room and it was something she couldn't let happen.