we can be a family again.
Livvy
I come to in the car park, sitting on the ground, feeling very confused. I remember the car, the kid, and an incredibly painful bang on the head, and lots of people flapping around me, but nothing else. But that must have been hours ago. It’s dark now, and I am alone and I can’t quite remember why I am still here. Did they leave me behind? Why didn’t they take me to hospital? That’s weird. I feel in my pockets for my mobile. I must ring Adam, my husband. He and our son Joe will be so worried. That reminds me, I’m cross with Adam for some reason, but I can’t think why. I can’t find my phone. I must have dropped it when the car hit me.
The. Car. Hit. Me.
I stop for a moment and try and absorb the logic of this. If the car hit me, why am I not hurt? And why am I still here? And why is it dark? – Oh no …
Adam
When I hear my wife is critically ill in hospital I’m standing out at the front of our office having a surreptitious conversation with Emily – I don’t want everyone at work knowing what’s gone on. It doesn’t make me proud to know how secretive I’ve become in the last few months.
‘How did she find out?’ asks Emily in a tense whisper.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘That’s not really the point any more.’
‘This changes everything,’ says Emily.
I sigh. ‘I know. Still, it had to come out some time, but I wish I’d been the one to tell her.’ I don’t know. I’ve wanted to, so many times in the last few months, as my home life has been deteriorating to beyond even what I could possibly have imagined. During that time Emily had become the one beacon of light in my life. But would I have ever found the courage? And then there’s our son Joe of course. What on earth is this going to do to Joe? Guilt and misery lodge uncomfortably in my stomach. We’ve had some rotten Christmases in the past, but this one could be shaping up to be a humdinger.
‘Adam, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ It’s my PA, Marigold. She looks really upset. The words come tumbling out of her so fast I can’t quite take them in. ‘I’m so sorry, Adam, but you have to go to the hospital. There’s been an accident. Livvy’s been badly hurt.’
‘What?’ I’m not sure I’ve heard correctly. ‘Emily, I’ve got to go, Livvy crisis.’
‘You have to go,’ Marigold says frantically. ‘Now. She’s in the hospital.’
I’m ashamed to say that my first thought is that Livvy’s pulling a stunt – her way of getting back at me. But when I finally speak to someone at the hospital, it seems she really has had a bad accident. ‘I’m sorry to tell you she’s in a critical condition, Mr Carmichael,’ says the doctor. ‘I suggest you come immediately.’
I dither about whether to pick Joe up or not. How will he react? But if things are as bad as they say, will Joe forgive me for leaving him behind? So, in the end, I grab him from his sixth-form college, and we get to the hospital to discover that Livvy is in Resus. We’re shown into a family room, which feels ominous. My heart is pounding and I feel really sick. Nobody will tell us anything, but everyone speaks in hushed tones, and I am beginning to fear the worst.
Livvy
I start to remember. It was two weeks until Christmas Day and I was on my way to Lidl to get some Christmas shopping, still staggering from the news I’d just heard. Adam, my lovely husband Adam, had been unfaithful to me. I mean, I knew we had our problems, and I’d felt for a while that he’d been quite distant, but Adam, having an affair? I was reeling with shock, and mad as hell. There I’d been, sorting out a lovely Christmas for us, and he’d been playing away.
As I got out of the car, a part of my brain was still calmly planning our Christmas dinner, while the other part was concentrating on angrily texting Adam: You bastard, how could you? Talk about multitasking. I knew how and why he could of course – I’d given him enough cause over the years.
I was so angry I wasn’t paying attention, so I foolishly stepped into the road in front of a car driven by a 17-year-old learner driver whose dad had taken him to Lidl’s car park to practise safely. The poor lad panicked when he saw me, and accelerated instead of braking. I could see his terrified face staring frantically from the dashboard, as to my horror I realized the car was speeding towards me, and I could do nothing to stop it.
I didn’t feel any pain on impact, but the car hit me side on, spun out of control and crashed into the recycling bins. I flew through the air and landed head first into the trolley man who was collecting stray trolleys abandoned by lazy shoppers. I’d have got away with a few breaks and nothing more if it hadn’t been for the damned trolleys. Unfortunately for me, I received a glancing blow to the head, which resulted in a haematoma.
Just my luck.
I felt a moment of excruciating pain, and then people gathered excitedly around me, and the boy driving the car was wailing loudly, ‘What have I done?’
I could just make out the sounds of sirens in the background before everything faded to darkness. The last sound I heard was the music blaring from the store: ‘Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time’. Just peachy.
The next thing I knew I was lying on a stretcher and the lights were hurting my eyes. I seemed to be in a vehicle of some kind and we were going at a hell of a lick. I heard a voice saying, ‘Livvy, stay with me,’ before everything faded again.
When I came to I felt as though I was floating in a dreamlike state. I couldn’t quite work out where I was, until I looked down and saw lots of people dressed in blue overalls, wearing face masks and looking grave. They were standing over a body. I was beyond spooked: what the hell was going on?
‘And clear!’ someone said, and a charge went through the body, but nothing happened.
The man holding the defibrillator shook his head and someone said, ‘Time of death: two fifteen p.m.’
Gradually they moved away from the body, unclipping monitors and drips, and suddenly I realized I was looking down at myself.
What just happened? I was thinking. I can’t be … can I? I must be having some kind of strange dream. In a moment Adam and Joe are going to be by my side and I will wake up and everything will be OK.
Adam
Telling Joe I’m off to fetch us a hot drink I go out to the A & E reception desk to ask if there’s any news, but no one can tell me anything. When I’m coming back with a weak hot chocolate for Joe and a tepid coffee for me, I overhear one of the nurses say something about how long they’ve been working on her, and my alarm rises. Oh God, what is happening? One moment I’d been thinking the worst of my problems was facing up to leaving Livvy and now – I seem to be caught in a terrible, unbelievable nightmare. However unhappy we’ve been together, I don’t want anything to happen to Livvy. I feel I am standing on the edge of a swirling abyss, unsure where my future lies.
Guilt, remorse and an overpowering sorrow threaten to overwhelm me but I am trying to hold it together for Joe’s sake. Yet, when he eventually asks, ‘Mum is going to be all right isn’t she?’ I have nothing to offer.
‘I don’t know, Joe,’ I say, sipping my insipid coffee