‘How is she now? Is she any better?’ she spoke rapidly, her voice frantic.
Simon hugged her, took her bag and guided her to where his car was parked. Keeping his arm around her, he explained as they walked.
‘She’s no worse, Julia. She’s still unconscious, but the doctor’s told us they’ve put her into a medically-induced coma for now, to give her time to heal. They’re still carrying out tests, so we don’t know the extent of the damage just yet.’
‘How could anyone attack my mum?’ she asked, her lips quivering. ‘She doesn’t deserve this... especially after all she’s been through.’
On the journey to the hospital, Simon, as gently as he could, went through the whole story. Julia, shocked at the detail, was trying, and failing, to hold back tears. ‘Oh... how could anyone do that to her...? How could they?’
‘I really don’t know, sweetheart. It’s beyond me.’
‘She’s not going to die, is she?’
Simon looked at her, sitting in the passenger seat like a little lost soul. She looked so much like her mother, the same blonde hair, same upturned nose. She was plainly dressed in a pair of blue jeans with a blue and white striped tee-shirt and white trainers, a far cry from her usual style. He was more used to seeing her in bright, gaudy outfits with lots of beads and scarves in her hair – like a new-age hippie. He supposed being an art student had some influence on her choice of clothes. Or maybe it was the other way round.
‘She’s seriously ill, Julia. If it’s confirmed that there’s bleeding on the brain, it could go either way. But the test results aren’t through yet, so we just have to hope for the best.’
Julia gave a strangled sob, then sat in silence, no doubt coming to terms with what she’s going to encounter at the hospital, Simon thought.
Simon rang ahead to say they were on their way, and Fiona met them at the main door of the hospital. Julia rushed to her and clung to her, sobbing. When the sobs had subsided somewhat, Fiona told her the doctors would allow them to see her mum for a few minutes. She took Julia’s arm and they all made their way to the IC Department. Simon could see the fear in Julia’s face, and wondered how she would cope with seeing her mother.
After disinfecting their hands and donning protective clothing, they were shown to the bed by a nurse.
‘Now, don’t be alarmed,’ the nurse warned. ‘There are lots of tubes and equipment, but it’s all to help her get better. She’s being kept in an induced coma, for now, so she won’t wake up. I’ll leave you with her for a minute, but please don’t touch her, not even her hand. I’ll just be over there,’ she indicated the nursing station on the other side of the room and walked away, leaving them by the bed.
When she looked towards the bed, Julia’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘That’s not her,’ she yelled. ‘That’s not my mother. Nurse...’ Julia’s voice rose in hysteria. ‘What have they done to her?’
Propped up on pillows, Carol’s face was discoloured, grotesquely swollen and looked misshapen. A ventilation tube was strapped to her face, her chest moving up and down as it noisily breathed for her. Her eyes were closed and most of her head was swathed in bandages, startlingly white against her bruised skin. Tubes and wires seemed to be everywhere.
Hearing the commotion, the nurse hurried back to the bed, where Fiona was trying to calm Julia. Between them, they led her away from the bed, to the other side of the room.
‘Is your mother Carol Barrington?’ the nurse quietly asked Julia. When she nodded, the nurse continued. ‘Then that is your mother. There’s a lot of swelling and bruising just now and that’s what makes it hard to recognise her. At the moment. It will go down in time.’ Her voice was soothing and Simon was relieved to see it was beginning to have a calming effect on Julia. Her hysteria turned to tears and she turned to Fiona and buried her face in her chest, sobbing loudly.
Simon thanked the nurse and ushered them both out of the room. ‘She’s in the best hands, Julia. Come on, we’ll leave her for now and see if we can speak to a doctor. Find out if there’s any more news.’
The doctor confirmed that Carol was stable, though still critical. Test results were still awaited. ‘We’re hoping to get some results in the morning,’ he told them.
Fiona insisted that the overwrought Julia go home with her for a few precious hours sleep, and Simon volunteered to stay at the hospital, where they had a visitor bed near the intensive care unit. He promised to ring if there was any change during the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sometimes I could feel people washing me, which was irritating. It was too intimate. Through a fog, I could hear someone talking. I became aware of someone holding my hand. Nothing made sense. I wanted to open my eyes, but couldn’t. With a fleeting feeling of panic I realised I couldn’t move.
The first time I briefly woke, with an anguished blink, I made a feeble attempt to pull a tube out of my mouth. It was hurting my throat. The tube was replaced and I could hear soothing words before drifting back to darkness.
Then, I was more awake, feeling woozy, with severe pain in my head. I began to panic, again trying to pull the tube out of my throat. The nurses calmed me and told me they were giving me morphine for the pain. After that, time seemed to come and go. Chunks of time when I was awake, then disjointed times, with different people around the bed. One time, I thought I was in a hotel room in London, with my friend, Pauline, but Julia was there.
‘Why are you here?’ I asked Julia. ‘You should be at Uni.’
‘I flew here to be with you, mum, as soon as I heard.’
‘Don’t be silly. You always drive to London. Why would you fly?’
They told me afterwards, some of the other funny things I was saying in my morphine-induced delirium. The pattern on the curtains in the room kept taking different shapes. One minute there were dogs playing on the beach, the next horses jumping over fences. The morphine took away all the pain, and all the anxiety about the tube, which at some stage was removed.
The nurses told me the morphine was being slowly withdrawn, and during a very woozy journey back to reality, I began to feel pain and discomfort. My throat was raw, where the tube had been. I couldn’t move my head without the most excruciating pain, and realised that my head was bandaged. I began to tentatively feel around my face and head and then became aware of dressings on my breasts, shoulders and arms.
Everything seemed disjointed. At one stage I remember waking up in the most terrible panic. Nightmares crowded in on me. I dreamed I was being suffocated and was fighting for my life. The nurses told me later that I was thrashing around so violently they had to hold me down to prevent me from hurting myself.
There seemed to be an endless stream of people, coming and going. Fiona, Julia, Simon, Josie, and nurses and doctors assuring me I was safe now. Sounds and smells of hospital, hands gently washing me and Julia, and Fiona holding my hands. One nurse, who told me her name was Wanda, was particularly kind to me. Born and bred in Barbados, she had a lovely, engaging personality, as so many of the locals had.
Waking up, one morning, I became aware of someone singing quietly, on the other side of my room.
‘Oh, Carol, I am but a fool...’
‘No,’ I shouted, alarmed. ‘No. Stop.’
‘Oh, you’re back with us Carol?’ the nurse asked brightly. It was Wanda. ‘Don’t you like my voice then?‘
‘The song...don’t sing that song.’ My heart was racing and I felt panic building up. Wanda, detecting the distress in my voice, came over to the bed and took my wrist in her hand, feeling my rapid pulse.
‘It’s me, Wanda. What is it, Carol? What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know...the song... don’t sing that song.’ my breath was coming in big gulps.
‘I won’t sing it any more if it bothers you, honey,’ she said gently, again patting my hand in reassurance. ‘Calm down now. Take some deep breaths... that’s better.’
The panic receded. ‘My
head hurts, Wanda. Everything’s so strange. Do you know why I’m here?’
‘Don’t worry, honey. The doctor will prescribe something for your head. He’s on his rounds now, so he’ll be here soon. After that, if he agrees you’re up to it, the police need to speak with you. I’m sure they’ll tell you what’s happened to you.’
‘The police?’
‘Yes, they’ve been on duty outside since you were brought in. I’ll let them know you’re awake,’ she turned to leave. ‘But they won’t be able to see you until Doctor Gibson gives the go-ahead.’
‘Wanda?’ she turned back. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘You were brought in with serious head injuries, six days ago.’
‘Six days?’ I closed my eyes, wearily. It was too much to take in.
‘The police will explain everything, when Doctor Gibson thinks you’re well enough to see them. Try not to worry.’ She gave me one of her beaming smiles, dimples forming in her plump cheeks.
I must have dozed off again, because I woke with a start when the doctor strode into the room.
‘Good Morning, Carol. Sorry to startle you. I’m Dr Gibson. It’s good to see you properly awake. How’re you feeling today?’ Raising his rather bushy eyebrows, he looked at me over his reading glasses.
‘Hello, doctor. I’m... fuzzy... my head hurts.’
He bent over me and examined my head, gently easing the dressing aside, just above my left ear, then felt around the wound with his fingertips. I winced.
‘Sorry. Being as gentle as I can. It’s healing well. Scarring should be minimal and in any case, it’ll be largely covered by your hair.’ He smiled, a reassuring smile that lit up his face displaying a small gap between his two front teeth. ‘When you were first brought in, with blunt force trauma injury to your head, we feared there may have been some bleeding around the brain. We’ve carried out tests and have been monitoring you carefully. Thankfully, the tests have shown there’s no bleeding and the initial swelling is reducing. Your skull is fractured in two places, and you’ve had concussion. We kept you sedated for a while, to rest your brain and help it to heal. However, we’re confident now that you’ll make a full recovery. You’ve been very lucky, in a sense. It could have been so much worse after suffering such a blow. Now,’ he said, raising his eyebrows again, ‘Wanda’s told me you have some memory loss?’
‘I... I can’t remember anything. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I remember... I was with Fiona... saw her off in a taxi... went back down the steps... I … I can’t remember anything after that. Next thing was… being in here with tubes and drips.’
He took the chair beside my bed and leaned towards me, his hands folded in his lap. I caught a faint trace of something spicy, perhaps cologne. ‘The police will explain everything to you about what has happened.’ he said gently. ‘You suffered a massive blow to your head. You needed time to allow your brain to heal. There’s almost always some confusion when you first wake up properly from an induced medical coma. Don’t get upset about it, just try to relax and get better. Easier said than done, I know. From a medical point of view we’re very pleased with your progress; but of course we understand you will feel confused. You will need to come to terms with what has happened, in due course,’ he sat back in the chair.
‘Your memory should come back, in time, probably gradually. There’s no guarantee, but try not to worry about it for now. Best to just concentrate on getting better. I’ll get Wanda to give you some tablets for your headache.’ He turned to Wanda, and gave her some instructions. I hadn’t noticed her come into the room. ‘Now,’ he said, turning back to face me, the police are waiting to speak with you. They’ll explain everything. But, only if you feel up to talking to them?’
‘Yes... I need to know... I don’t want to wait any longer to find out what on earth has happened to me.’
They both left, and Wanda returned a minute later. ‘Take these now,’ she said, with a sympathetic smile, handing me two yellow tablets and a small beaker. ‘They’ll deal with the headache. They’ll also make you drowsy, so I’ll tell the police not to stay too long.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I looked up as a very tall, Bajan man came through the door, wearing an open-neck white shirt and grey chinos. His face could only be described as beautiful. Long sooty lashes framed mesmerising brown eyes.
‘Hello, Mrs Barrington.’ he said, in a very deep voice. ‘I’m DCI Louis Brown with the Barbados police and this is my colleague DC Lynn Sands,’ he indicated a petite woman who had followed him into the room. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties, with straight, glossy black hair and gentle brown eyes that studied me from beneath her fringe. She nodded to me in acknowledgement.
‘The doctor thinks you may be up to answering a few questions, Mrs. Barrington. Will that be alright? We won’t keep you long.’ His voice was deep brown velvet.
He took the chair by the bed and his colleague collected another from the corridor. I suddenly felt scared at the thought of what I might hear.
‘Now, Carol,’ he began, stroking his chin with his right hand. ‘Is it alright to call you Carol?’ I nodded and he continued. ‘Please call me Louis. And this is Lynn. Can you tell me what you remember about the night you were attacked?’ he studied my face as he spoke.
‘Attacked?’ I repeated, my mouth falling open in surprise. ‘I thought I’d had some kind of accident... I didn’t know I’d been attacked?’
‘I’m sorry. I thought you’d been told. Didn’t the staff tell you? Or your family?’
‘No... they said the police would.’ It was hard to take in.
‘I see. Well, I’m afraid that you were assaulted. Six nights ago. Can you tell me what you remember about that night?’
‘I can’t remember anything... Who would attack me?.. Why?’ I spoke slowly, trying to make sense of the disturbing news.
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ he leant towards me, speaking softly. ‘We know from your doctor that some memory loss is quite normal after a blow to the head. Let’s see what you do remember. Do you recall seeing Fiona into her taxi?’
‘Yes…’ I could picture Fiona waving from the taxi. ‘Her dress was trailing on the ground.’
‘You can remember her dress trailing? That’s good.’ interjected Lynn. ‘Can you see it in your mind?’
‘Yes...’
‘That’s good. So, you clearly remember her leaving in a taxi. Right. Now, take your time, can you remember what you did next?’
‘I... went back down the steps… It was dark... I had to be careful.’
‘Careful?’
‘Not to fall.’
‘Can you remember what happened when you reached the bottom of the steps?’ Lynn asked gently.
‘No...nothing... I don’t remember getting to the bottom... just waking up in here.’
‘Do you recall if you saw anyone else when you were seeing Fiona off, or on your way down the steps?’ asked Louis.
‘No… no, I don’t remember seeing anyone at all.’
‘And you didn’t invite anyone in? A friend, perhaps?’
‘No... there was no-one there…’ I was puzzled at the question. ‘Why..?’
‘It’s just that sometimes people are attacked by someone who knows them,’ he explained. ‘When you went back into your apartment, did you lock the doors?’
‘I will have done… I always lock up before I go to bed.’
‘What about when you left to walk Fiona up to street level, did you lock the doors behind you then?’
I hesitated. ‘Well... no… I don’t think so... I didn’t think… I was only going to be a few minutes...’
‘It’s possible that someone could have entered the apartment then. There was no sign of a forced entry and the doors were found unlocked the next day.’
‘So, you think I could have... locked myself in with the person who attacked me?’ It was dawning on me that so
meone must have already been inside when I locked up. A chilling thought. My head was throbbing and I felt a bit sick.
‘Look, I can see you’re very tired, now. We’ll have more questions to ask you, but they can wait until tomorrow,’ he rubbed his chin. ‘Your doctor warned us not to stay too long, so we’ll leave you to rest for now. You’ve done very well.’ He got to his feet.
‘No. Please. Before you go... I want to know what happened? All I know is I’m hurting all over. I’ve got a fractured skull... I’ve got bruises and sores over my body... What exactly has happened to me?’
‘I think we should leave the details ‘til you’re a bit stronger, Carol,’ Lynn said.
‘No,’ I shouted, feeling frantic. ‘I need to know now. Please. Have you any idea what it’s like, lying here, like this, and not have a clue about what’s happened?’
They exchanged glances, and Louis nodded to Lynn, almost imperceptibly. They were both on their feet, ready to leave, but Lynn now took the chair Louis had vacated and pulled it closer to the bed.
‘Alright. I’ll tell you what we know so far,’ she said, clasping her hands together. ‘We got a call from Simon to say someone had been hurt.’
‘Simon?’
‘Yes. Apparently, when you failed to turn up for lunch at Fiona and Simon’s house, they got worried.’ Lynn went on to explain about Simon finding me. ‘There was a lot of blood. He thought you were dead until he found a faint pulse. He made a 211 call and we responded within five minutes. The paramedics brought you immediately to this hospital. You were hit over the head with a stone turtle – we found it on the floor beside the bed.’
‘Was... was I raped?’ I had to know.
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