It’s no one else’s damn business. Part of her had always cared too much about being ‘normal’ but she hadn’t let that stop her becoming a taxidermist, and she didn’t regret that decision. Just like taxidermy was part of who she was, so was Seb. She couldn’t imagine her life without him and she couldn’t just switch off her love, no matter how much she might want to.
Maybe she just needed to move her goalposts—accept that their relationship was built on a strong friendship and a love that transcended sex and all that stuff. Everyone knew that sexual chemistry faded after years of marriage and the divorce rates proved that when it did, many couples had nothing left in common. That wasn’t the case for her and Seb.
‘I’m so angry,’ she said. ‘I feel betrayed, and I feel like you’ve lied to me all these years. I wish you’d told me the truth from the start.’
He simply nodded.
‘But I’ll be honest,’ she went on. ‘I might have walked away back then and if I had we wouldn’t have Zoe and Toby. We wouldn’t have so many wonderful memories. Because of all that, part of me is glad you never told me. And that part of me wants to try and make this—us—work. We’ll create a new us.’
Hope flared in his eyes. ‘Are you … Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’
Her stomach churned at what she had to face ahead, but she nodded. ‘All the stuff in New York—with Emma, Neve and Jeremy, made me realise what’s important to me. And that’s you. I don’t want to lose you and so I’ll stand by you while you go through the transition, if that’s what you decide to do. But you’ve got to promise me, no more secrets, no more lies. We’re in this together.’
‘I do. Of course. Oh, Flick. I love you.’ He reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm as tears streamed down his cheeks. She leaned into him and smiled.
‘And there’s one other thing I want you to promise.’
‘Anything.’
‘You know how I asked you to wait before speaking to Zoe and Toby about your … cross-dressing?’
He nodded.
‘Well, the same goes for this. I need you to wait a few more months till starting the process or telling anyone else what you plan to do. This year is paramount for Toby. He’s worked for years towards getting the grades to do aviation, and his focus should be on study and exams. Not family drama. And Zoe’s about to have the most important day of her life. If you come out before then, everyone will be watching you, whispering behind their hands when the wedding should be about Zoe and Beau. Nothing else.’
He dropped his hand and his brows knitted together—she could tell he was deliberating. She thought back a few weeks when she’d asked him almost this same question and he hadn’t given her a straight answer.
‘This is a deal breaker, Seb. You’ve waited years to do this. If you can’t wait another few months, I’ll walk.’
Finally, he nodded. ‘Okay, I promise.’ And then his lips stretched into a smile and he got up onto his knees, leaned forward and kissed her.
She’d made the right decision. She knew she had.
Chapter Forty-one
Genevieve
The call came in the early hours of the morning. Neve startled at the sound, snapping her head up off her arms, which were stiff from where she’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table. It took her a few seconds to work out what the noise was and then she sprang upon her phone. No Caller ID.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she nervously answered, ‘Hello?’
‘Is that Genevieve Turner?’ asked a deep male voice she didn’t recognise.
‘Yes. Who is this?’
‘Senior Police Constable Baxter. I’m sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but your car has been involved in an accident.’
No! Her chest tightened but she didn’t give a damn about the car. ‘What about my son? Will? Is he okay?’
‘You knew your son was driving your car without a licence?’
Disapproval rang in his tone.
‘Yes. We had a disagreement. He stormed out angry and took my car.’ Oh God, why hadn’t she run after him? Why hadn’t she stopped him? ‘Please, is he okay?’
‘He was driving the vehicle when he failed to pause at a stop sign and clipped the tail end of another car. Luckily, the other car and its occupants were unharmed but William lost control of the vehicle he was driving; it rolled and collided with a tree.’
Neve gasped, her free hand rushing up to her chest. ‘Oh my God! Is he…?’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish her question.
‘He’s in a critical condition in hospital. Is there someone who can drive you there? Is your husband at home? Or would you like me to send a patrol car round to collect you?’
Neve couldn’t contemplate his offer; she was stuck on critical. How many times had she heard that awful word on news reports and felt momentary sympathy for the family before getting on with her day? She was chastised to admit she rarely gave another thought to such incidents but everyone knew critical wasn’t good. Critical was about as close to death as you got without actually dying.
‘Ms Turner, are you okay?’
What a stupid question! She was anything but okay. Her body felt as if it had filled with ice, her heart the only organ in her body not frozen. Instead, it was beating so hard she could hear it.
‘Ms Turner?’
‘Sorry,’ she said after a few moments. ‘This is a lot to take in.’
‘I understand. Do you need a lift to the hospital?’
She was about to say she could drive herself and then remembered that her car was no longer still sitting outside on the driveway. God only knew where they’d taken it after the accident.
Her mother would come, that’s if she didn’t have a heart attack when her phone rang in the middle of the night. Her next thought was to call Flick—Emma wasn’t allowed to drive after the seizure—but maybe a police car would be quicker.
‘Yes, please. I’d appreciate a lift.’
‘Right. I’ll have a patrol car to you in the next few minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ she managed. ‘I’ll be ready.’
Ready consisted of grabbing her handbag and slipping on the first pair of shoes she could find. Though she never usually left the house without a full face of make-up and perfectly styled hair, Neve hurried out to wait by the road without even a glance in the hallway mirror. No doubt she looked terrible but her appearance had suddenly dropped way down on her priority list. Nothing mattered except getting to Will as fast as possible.
It felt like forever but finally a police car appeared. It had barely slid to a stop at the end of her driveway before she yanked open the back door and climbed inside. Two cops turned around to look at her and the female one behind the wheel said, ‘I guess you must be Genevieve Turner?’
She nodded, unable to speak for the fear that had balled up in the back of her throat.
They introduced themselves but she didn’t register their names.
‘Right then, let’s get you to the hospital.’ Without another word, the female officer turned back to the wheel and started down the street. Neve feared they might ask her about what her son was doing driving her car late at night without a licence, but they must have sensed she couldn’t deal with such a conversation right now.
The journey was a blur and the police officers escorted her into the hospital and all the way to intensive care. They seemed to know where they were going and she guessed this wasn’t the first time they’d been in this situation. But everything was new to her. Will hadn’t even had so much as a broken bone before now.
‘ICU?’ she whispered to no one in particular. She thought he’d still be in A&E and the fact that he wasn’t sent the terror in her heart up another few levels.
The policewoman placed a supportive hand on Neve’s arm and gave her a sympathetic smile as the other officer opened a door into the waiting room. There was one other couple in there but she barely glanced at them. ‘Where’s Will?’
‘Wait here,�
�� the policeman instructed as he stepped away and made a phone call on his mobile. Neve heard him tell someone they were there and then a few moments later, a more senior looking officer appeared.
He sighed deeply and offered his hand. ‘Ms Turner? We spoke on the phone. Senior Constable Baxter.’
Without thought she shook his hand. ‘Can I see my son?’
‘Soon. The doctors are just finishing doing their stuff.’
Neve raised an eyebrow. What the hell does ‘doing their stuff’ mean?
‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ interrupted the policewoman.
She didn’t usually drink caffeine after eight o’clock at night—it affected her sleep—but these were extenuating circumstances and sleep wasn’t on the agenda anymore. ‘Thank you. I’ll have a coffee.’
While the woman walked across to an ancient-looking coffee machine on the wall, Baxter led Neve to a row of plastic chairs and insisted she sit.
‘Once you’ve seen Will, I’ll need to get a statement from you regarding your stolen car.’
She glared at him. ‘It wasn’t stolen!’
‘You’re telling me you allowed an unlicensed driver to take your vehicle?’ he asked, his tone stern.
‘No … I …’ She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. ‘Can we please talk about this later? I just want to see my boy.’
Baxter frowned but sat back in his seat. The policewoman delivered Neve’s coffee and her partner tapped his feet against the linoleum floor as if he had better places to be. Neve’s fingers curled around the polystyrene cup and she lifted it to her lips, then absently took a sip. Words were exchanged between the three officers but Neve couldn’t take her eyes off the door that led into ICU. What were they doing to Will in there? If someone didn’t let her see him soon, she’d barge in without an invitation.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the door did open and a tall, grey-haired man in scrubs, and wearing a stethoscope around his neck, approached. He had a kind smile as he introduced himself.
‘Evening, Mrs Turner,’ he said, his tone soothing yet professional. Neve didn’t know what time it was but she guessed it was past midnight. ‘I’m Doctor Mortein—that’s right, like the fly spray—and I’ve been looking after your son since he arrived.’
She simply nodded, terrified of what he might be about to tell her.
‘Is he going to … to make it?’ It was almost impossible to speak past the lump in her throat.
‘It’s too early to give a long-term prognosis; the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical. Your son suffered serious injuries in the accident—he has a number of broken bones but it’s the internal bleeding and possible swelling on the brain that concerns us most.’
Internal bleeding? Brain swelling? Neve almost dropped her cup as the seriousness of Will’s condition slammed into her like a physical blow. Dr Mortein reached out to steady her hand.
‘We’ve put William into an induced coma—’
Neve gasped at this news, her fingers loosening again, but this time as the cup slipped from her grasp, Dr Mortein caught it. He passed it to Baxter and continued.
‘I know the word coma sounds terrifying but we’ve done this so we can monitor his intracranial pressure and keep his body temperature cool. I promise you we are doing everything we can to get him through this. Now, I’m going to take you in to see him and then if you have any further questions, we can talk some more.’
Neve shot to a stand. She didn’t need to be asked twice. She wanted to see Will more than she wanted her next breath. Somehow, despite her trembling limbs, she managed to follow Dr Mortein into the ICU, stopping only to disinfect her hands with the pump at the door. Her stomach twisted at the sight of rows of beds, high-tech machinery and the lights, which were dimmed due to the late hour and gave the place an almost eerie feel. Nurses buzzed around like busy worker bees. It was surreal, a little like she’d stepped into some television medical drama, until her eyes found Will.
And then suddenly everything felt very, very real.
He was lying on a gurney, his body motionless, his face pale and all sorts of tubes and wires attached to him. A medical-type person stood beside him doing something with one of the wires.
‘My baby,’ Neve whispered as she took a step towards him. She looked to the woman beside him. ‘Can I touch him?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but just be careful of the tubes. You’re his mother?’
‘Yes.’ Neve stopped beside Will’s bed, touched her hand to his and stared down at her beautiful boy. A tear trickled down her cheek.
This was all her fault.
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ she said, as she brushed her thumb gently across his hand. ‘I love you and I’m so, so sorry.’
Sorry didn’t cut it but she uttered these words over and over again.
As she sat there through the hours, watching the monitors near Will’s bed and anxiously trying to read the expression on the nurse’s face as she attended him, thoughts whirled inside Neve’s head, but she couldn’t seem to focus on any one of them.
She should phone her parents.
Baxter was probably still out there waiting to grill her about the ‘stolen’ car.
She should call Flick and Emma.
Would she have to give a statement?
Her parents would want to know even if it was the middle of the night.
Maybe there was a way she could somehow take the blame rather than Will? It wouldn’t be good to have this on his record for future employers and the like to see.
She would have to call James. He was going to kill her.
And then, the most terrifying thought of all:
None of this would matter if Will didn’t make it through.
Chapter Forty-two
Emma
‘I’m fine,’ Emma said to Flick when she opened the door to her on Sunday morning. She felt better than fine actually—after Patrick had kissed her goodnight, she’d drifted into the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time and had woken with only a smidgeon of a headache. ‘You really didn’t have to come and check up on me, but come on in, I’ll make you a coffee.’
Flick shook her head. ‘Can’t. We have to go to the hospital.’ Then, before Emma could get her head around this statement, she added, ‘Will was in a car accident last night. He’s critical.’
‘Oh my God.’ Emma’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. ‘What happened?’
‘I’ll fill you in on the way.’ Flick glanced down at the flannelette pyjamas Emma had pulled on after her shower the night before. ‘Go get changed. We’ll wait in the car.’
Toby was in the back of Flick’s car when Emma climbed in a few minutes later and Seb was in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel. They both said hello and Seb glanced around and offered a solemn smile. Flick sat in the passenger seat beside him. If it weren’t for their matching expressions of worry, they’d have looked as normal as they always did together. You’d never guess the demons that were tormenting their marriage. Then again, Emma would never have guessed that Seb thought himself a woman either.
Her cheeks flushed at this thought and she was glad he was in front and couldn’t see her. Knowing what she did, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at him the same way again.
It wasn’t that she had anything against transgender people per se, just that she’d never had anything to do with anyone like that personally. She’d read about them in glossy magazines and watched TV documentaries with a bemused fascination, but they were almost in the same realm as unicorns to her. But times were a-changing. The girls had come home from school only a couple of months ago and informed her about a discussion they’d had in Health and PD on the whole trans issue. If she recalled rightly, they’d slipped the comment in between announcing dire hunger and then asking her why they had nothing good in the fridge. The casual way they’d spoken, you’d have almost thought they were talking about a new rock band.
Was
that why Seb had always been so lovely, so helpful to her? And to Neve? Not as the husband of their friend but because he viewed himself as one of them? Now that she thought of it, he always complimented them on their outfits and never failed to notice if one of them had been for a haircut.
Bringing Emma’s thoughts back to the most pressing issue, Flick turned around and explained what had happened to Will.
‘So I guess Neve told him?’ Emma said once Flick had finished telling her how they’d argued and he’d taken Neve’s car and zoomed off into the night.
‘Told Will what?’ Toby asked and Emma realised Flick hadn’t actually mentioned what the argument had been about. ‘What’s going on?’
Flick shook her head dismissively. ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter right now.’
Toby crossed his arms and turned towards the window and once again Emma felt grateful her kids were out of the country, away from all this drama. Flick switched on the radio and none of them said anything else as Seb navigated the city streets towards the hospital.
Emma dug around in her handbag looking for one of her new extra-strength painkillers. News of Will’s accident combined with being a back-seat passenger had turned the dull pain in her head into another shocking headache. With a bonus bout of nausea to go with it. She popped two pills and then sighed in relief as they arrived.
As they climbed out of the car, Emma said wearily to Flick, ‘How many hospital visits is this in a week?’
Seb shot them a sympathetic glance and Toby looked questioningly at her. ‘What do you mean?’
Flick gave Emma a look of reprove and she closed her eyes a moment, cursing her lack of forethought. She’d made Flick and Neve swear they wouldn’t tell the boys about her tumour until she’d had the chance to work out how to break it to her family. But dammit, there were so many secrets it was getting hard to keep track of who knew what.
Thinking quickly, she touched a finger to her forehead and drew back her fringe, which had been hiding the evidence of her fall. ‘I tripped and split my forehead in New York. Your mum and Neve insisted I go to the hospital to check it out.’
The Art of Keeping Secrets Page 31