know. Everyone loves her. When she’s around, she makes you forget all your sorrows. The day I met her was the luckiest day of my life.’ His eyes were dreamy, as if he was no longer in the drab hospital room but somewhere far away where there was no sorrow, only joy. ‘Would you like to see a photo of her?’
‘More than anything.’
‘I always keep one in my wallet. It’s on the table over there.’ Claire passed the wallet to her father. His hands were shaking, from nerves or maybe because he was unwell, and he dropped the wallet. The contents spilled out all over the floor, his bed and his lap. Claire helped him collect coins, bank notes, loyalty cards for shops and cafés, a lighter, a silver chain – and a family photograph of the three of them. Earmarked and yellow around the edges, it looked like it had been repeatedly unfolded, examined and re-folded. ‘This was taken on a holiday in Paris. You were 15.’
With reverence Claire held up the photograph to the light. Her 15-year-old self was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and her hair was a shade lighter, a touch longer and curlier. But it wasn’t herself she wanted to see. As she looked at her mother’s face, once again her eyes filled with tears. It was like looking at herself, only two decades older. Her mother had the same slim build, the same light hair pulled back into a bun. She radiated joy, while the Eiffel Tower was a misty silhouette behind her. Claire wondered if the joy was genuine. Didn’t everyone look happy when posing in front of the Parisian icon? Her father didn’t. He seemed gloomy, as if Champ de Mars in autumn was the last place he wanted to be.
‘Your mother loves her shopping, especially in Paris. And you love the museums. Every day it was a battle between the two of you, trying to decide where to go and what to do. I never took sides. No matter where we went, I’d get bored and complain. You called me a grumpy old man. You’d ask why I bothered to go away in the first place. I’d tell you it’s because I wanted to be with you. And you’d say, “but if you want to be with us, does it matter where we are? So quit your complaining and enjoy the three-hour shopping spree or the five-hour tour of the Louvre.”’
‘We look like a happy family.’ And they did. They looked like they wouldn’t be out of place on a Hallmark card.
‘We are. I’ve always made sure of it.’
Claire felt her heart soar. Yes, she didn’t remember the people in the photograph. She knew nothing about their relationship with one another, their life together, their hopes and dreams. But she had a family. She was a part of something bigger than herself. There was meaning to her life, even if she didn’t know what it was.
‘You can keep the photo if you like,’ said Tony.
‘Are you sure? What about you?’
‘I have it in here.’ He pointed at his heart.
Affectionately Claire squeezed Tony’s hands and stood up. ‘I wish I could stay longer.’ She realised how much she meant it. ‘But Paul needs to get back to work.’ She hugged him goodbye and added, ‘I know you’re putting your brave face on for me. You don’t want to upset me. But I need to know. How do you really feel?’
He was silent for a while. She couldn’t see his eyes. He was hiding them from her. When he finally looked up, she saw the truth. She saw sadness and pain as if something inside him was broken. Tony had a smile on his face but it wasn’t a happy smile. It broke Claire’s heart. ‘I feel like I’m living my worst nightmare. If only I could stay asleep forever,’ he murmured.
‘I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m sorry you feel this way.’
‘Don’t be. God has a plan for all of us. We all go through dark times. Every once in a while, we find ourselves standing over an abyss. The darkness is mesmerising. It pulls us in. Some people will want to jump. Others will find the strength to move away from the edge.’
‘Do you want to jump?’ she asked in a tiny voice.
‘Only time will tell.’ As she was about to walk through the door, he added, ‘Next time you visit, bring me something to read.’
‘Of course. I’ll see you later, Dad.’ I love you, she wanted to add but didn’t dare. It seemed to her that she had only met him for the first time today. And yet in her heart she felt like she had known him her whole life. If only she could remember. As she looked at him in silence, she felt so sad, but also warm inside. She was no longer a raft adrift in the ocean, a blank slate of a life with no past, no present and no future. She had her father. She was loved. She belonged.
* * *
Claire stepped outside her father’s room and into the waiting area, nauseous and dizzy, as if she was not on firm ground but on a ship swaying on stormy seas. When she looked up, she saw two police officers walking down the corridor towards her. A man and a woman, they looked like twins in their identical uniforms, both ginger and short, their faces tired and drawn, as if they had seen too much in the line of duty. Claire faintly remembered being questioned by them shortly after the accident. But she couldn’t recall what they had asked, nor what she had said to them. She couldn’t even remember their names. The first week at the hospital had been a blur.
They smiled at her in recognition and nodded in unison, then marched into her father’s hospital room without much ado or so much as a knock. Claire retraced her steps, stopping outside her father’s door, peeking through the gap.
The police had their backs to her but she could see her father’s face. What if he could see her too? Even though he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes on the police officers, his face stretched into an uneasy smile, Claire shifted her body slightly to the left, so that she was no longer by the door but leaning on the wall next to it. Nurses and doctors rushed past her, visitors and patients walked by at a more leisurely pace. None of them paid the slightest attention to a pale young woman with her hands clasped nervously and her eyes wide. She could no longer see her father or the police officers but she could hear them. The man introduced himself as PC Stanley. The woman said her name was PC Kamenski. Claire was surprised they had different surnames. They looked so alike, she expected them to be related.
‘Is this a good time? You seemed like you were sleeping,’ said the woman.
‘I was trying to. Couldn’t sleep last night,’ said Tony.
‘We can come back later if you want to rest.’
‘I’ve rested for two weeks. It’s been a regular holiday resort.’
The cops laughed uncomfortably. ‘Is it okay if we ask you a few questions?’
‘That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?’ Her father sounded exhausted, and suddenly Claire felt a wave of anger so strong, she almost gasped. Why couldn’t the cops see how ill he was? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? Didn’t they have real crime to solve and real criminals to catch?
‘Can I start with your full name, please?’
He told them.
His date of birth, address, occupation, marital status.
He told them.
And finally, ‘Where were you on the fifth of March at four o’clock in the afternoon?’
‘That was the day of the accident. I believe I was driving. But you already know that or you wouldn’t be here.’
‘Were you drinking that day? Taking drugs?’
‘Why don’t you ask my doctor? They would have done a blood test.’
‘Please answer the questions, sir,’ said PC Stanley in a voice that sounded tired rather than annoyed.
‘No, I wasn’t drinking. Or taking drugs.’
‘Who was in the car with you?’
Tony didn’t say anything at first and then coughed, clearing his throat and asking for a glass of water. Claire felt her body lean forward involuntarily, waiting for his answer. She held her breath.
‘There you are,’