yawned as discreetly as she could and looked across at the mystery girl, surrounded by staff on all sides, unconscious and totally unaware of what was happening to her. And, with no ID, there was no way of knowing who they should call. Not even anyone to sign the consent forms. She’d want her mum at her side if it was her lying there. And her dad, obviously. But mostly her mum. There’s nothing so scary as facing stuff alone. And nothing like a mum to make it right. God, imagine having all that going on inside your own body and not knowing a thing about it. Laura shuddered and pushed the thoughts away. It’s a job, she reminded herself. Just a job. Don’t let yourself get too involved. But, how awful if the girl should die, anonymous and alone.
Death. In the middle of a normal Saturday, with the traffic going about its business outside the window, someone coughing into a bowl behind a curtain, the radio in the nurses’ kitchen spilling out sports news and tinny pop music and the weather, a vase of droopy flowers and a clutch of Thank You cards propped up along the windowsill. Death, coming out of nowhere, when it’s least expected. That was the part of her job she most dreaded, especially when the patient was so young. She knew the next few hours would be critical. Tests, monitors, ventilators, maybe an operation to relieve the pressure on her brain, everyone waiting to see whether the girl woke up or slipped away. Life and death. Such a thin line between the two, and so frighteningly easy to cross.
Quarter of an hour now since she’d been brought in, and they’d come to wheel her away already. One of the other nurses went with her. Her expression remained grim. She looked across at Laura as they entered the lift, and shook her head. There was still no change.
Ruby
The rain has stopped, but I can’t go out to play. I’m not feeling very well. Mrs Castle has put me to bed with a hot water bottle and my favourite doll. She’s called Betsy, and I think she’s wearing her best yellow dress, but someone has closed the curtains and the room is so dark that I can’t tell for sure. Her small plastic hand feels cold against mine. The room is quiet, but I can hear some of the others talking outside. They sound so far away, almost as if they’re whispering, but I know they’re not. Nobody here ever whispers.
My head hurts and I feel really hot, but I’m shivering with cold. That doesn’t make any sense at all, but I do as I’m told and stay tucked up under the blankets, only reaching my arm out when I want to take a sip from the big beaker of water by my bed. My legs ache as if I’ve been running for miles, but I don’t think I have. Mrs Castle says what I have might be catching, so the others can’t come and see me. I feel very alone in here, but I know Mrs Castle doesn’t mean to be unkind. She’s trying to help me get better, and she usually knows what’s best. She’s not as nice as a real mum, but she’s the next best thing, and I do trust her. I hope I don’t spill the water in the dark and make her cross.
I must have gone to sleep for a while. One of those deep dark sleeps, with no dreams in it. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but when I wake up, something feels different. No, everything feels different.
I can’t move my legs. I try hard but nothing happens. I can tell that Betsy has gone. I can’t feel her hand any more. In the darkness, I try to find her, but I can’t move my arms either. Or my eyes. I can’t open my eyes. Why can’t I open my eyes?
I try to think, try to remember, try to recapture the colour of the yellow in my head. Betsy’s yellow, the brightest happiest yellow ever, but everything’s just black. Black and dark and empty. And I know she’s not here. Betsy.
Is it Betsy I’m searching for? No, not Betsy. Not Betsy at all. Betsy was a long time ago. It’s Lily. Lily was this morning. Where is Lily? I try to call for her, try to speak, but nothing happens. My mouth doesn’t open. My voice doesn’t come.
Where’s Lily? And where am I?
Geraldine opened the front door and dropped her bag on the hall table. It was a warm afternoon, despite the drizzle, and she was glad to shrug off her coat and slip out of her damp shoes. The feel of the soft wool carpet between her toes always cheered her up and made her feel instantly glad to be home.
‘Anyone for tea?’ she said as Michael and Patricia slammed the car boot shut and lugged their cases up the drive behind her. ‘Only, I can’t stop long. I’ll have to go back to the shop, if only to help Kerry cash up the takings and lock up properly. Heaven knows what she will have got up to while I’ve been gone.’ She glanced over her shoulder as they reached the step. ‘Shoes, please …’
She saw Michael raise his eyes to the sky and shake his head. Once inside the old familiar house, their shoes left at the door, he guided Patricia into the living room and plonked her down in a chair, then followed his mother along the narrow hallway to the kitchen.
‘You still haven’t asked me,’ he said, lowering his voice to a whisper and opening the fridge door to grab the milk.
Geraldine busied herself at the sink, filling the kettle and pulling cups out of the cupboard. ‘Asked you what, love?’
‘Mum, you know what! Oh, you can be infuriating sometimes.’
She turned to look at him. It hadn’t been that long since she’d last seen him but she could have sworn he’d grown. Older, taller, wider, more like his father than ever. And so suntanned, she hardly recognised him any more. Not for the first time she felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite put a name to. A feeling that she was losing him, as his life headed off in new directions, slowly but surely, bit by inevitable bit. ‘Michael, you know I don’t like to pry. Yes, you said on the phone that you had something to tell me, but I was waiting for you to do just that.’ Oh, she really shouldn’t snap at him quite so abruptly. No wonder he came back home so rarely. Not that he probably saw this house, or Brighton, as his home any more. He’d long since put it all behind him. ‘I was waiting for you to tell me, when you were ready, that’s all. I didn’t realise I was expected to ask …’
‘Well, come into the front room then, and Patsy and I can tell you together. Leave the tea for a minute. No one’s going to die of thirst for having to wait a bit longer.’
Geraldine sighed. She’d have to be blind or stupid not to have spotted the ring on Patricia’s finger the moment she’d set eyes on her at the airport, but it wasn’t her place to comment, was it? And now she’d have to pretend to be surprised. And pleased.
Michael had that look in his eyes. The same one he would come home from school with when he’d come top in maths or scored a goal at football. He was almost bouncing with the urge to tell her, and she knew she must play her part.
So, with the sound of the kettle starting to bubble and let off steam behind her, she let her son lead her along the hall, hand in hand, glad of those last few precious seconds to part her lips and practise her best ‘welcome to the family’ smile behind his back.
*
Agnes was worried about Smudge. She looked at the clock on her kitchen wall and gazed out at the small back yard, the rain still bouncing hard against the window. Five o’clock, and it was already starting to get dusky, the shadows fading to big shapeless chunks of grey on the concrete below. Poor old cat. He was quite a big chunk of shapeless grey himself these days. She smiled to herself. He was fifteen years old now, getting stiffer, lazier, just like her, and he didn’t usually stay out this long when the weather was bad, although he still liked a prowl around, and still came back with a cut ear or a new battle scar from time to time.
She leaned out over the sink and struggled with the rickety window catch, pushing the window open just enough to feel the rush of chilly air and the splash of rain on her arm.
‘Smudge. Smudgey Boy, come